The Rest of the Story(39)

“You and Bailey were out pretty late,” she replied, picking up the bread from the counter.

“Jack came and took the boat,” I explained. “We had to walk back.”

“In my shoes?”

“I took them off first.” I nodded at the steps, where I had left them neatly lined up. “My feet were filthy.”

“Ugh. I bet.” She loaded the toaster and pushed down the lever. Then she leaned against the counter, her belly poking out in front of her. “So how was it?”

I shrugged. “Fine. We just hung out until Jack showed up and wanted the boat. The guys were nice.”

She scoffed at this, blowing her hair out of her face. “Let me guess. They’re both rich and in college.”

“Don’t know about rich,” I replied, although I didn’t doubt it. “But yeah, they’re roommates at East U.”

Another snort, although this time she saved me the commentary. A moment later—BING!—the toast popped up. After she quickly moved the slices to a plate, cursing at the heat on them, she said, “You want to work this morning?”

“Sure,” I replied.

She went to the fridge, collecting the butter, then came to the table to grab a knife. “We’ll start at nine sharp. Meet you over there?”

“Sounds good.”

She shuffled off, toast and butter balanced on the plate. I pulled over the paper Oxford had left behind and flipped to the obits. Just as I was about to start reading about Hazel Walker, aged 85, who had passed away surrounded by her loved ones, my phone beeped again. Blake.

At the docks today. You should come by.

So he’d gotten my number. Which meant that despite my nerves, I’d clearly made a good impression. Plus, he wasn’t bad to look at, and the kiss (my first!) had been nice while it lasted. Maybe I just needed to give this a chance.

Have to work. Will try, I wrote back. A beat later, he sent me a smiley face. A redhead. Cute.

“Morning.”

I jumped, startled to find myself there in my seat at the table, the obit for Hazel Walker still unread in front of me and Jack crossing the kitchen to the toaster.

“Hey,” I said in return.

He loaded up some bread before coming over to sit. “Obituaries, huh?” he asked. “Kind of a morbid way to start the day, isn’t it?”

“Death is no joke,” I pointed out.

He smiled, a bit ruefully. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Among other things.”

A sigh, and then he ran a hand over his hair. “Well, it’s the truth. I was in the right, whether she sees it that way or not.”

To this I said nothing, focusing again on Hazel as I took another bite of my toast.

“Okay, fine.” He sighed. “I was in the right but might have handled it a bit more diplomatically.”

“A bit?” I asked.

“How pissed was she, really?”

I looked up at him. “On a scale of one to ten? Twelve.”

BING! went the toaster. He got up, plucking out the slices and dropping them onto a plate, then went to the fridge. “Where’s the butter?”

“Trinity took it.” I pointed. “The porch.”

He glanced down the hallway, then came back to the table. Picking up a piece of toast, he said, “What about you?”

I swallowed. “What about me?”

“How pissed are you?” he replied. “At me.”

Surprised he’d care either way, I was nonetheless truthful. “Not at all. It was a nice walk.”

“Except for Bailey being at a twelve.”

“Well, there was that,” I agreed. “She cooled down after a mile or so, though.”

He sighed again. Then, nodding at the paper, he said, “One more question and I’ll leave you to your death notices.”

“Shoot.”

“How much is she really into this yacht club guy?”

I thought of Bailey’s face the night before, streaked with tears, as we made our way down the middle of the empty road that led home.

“I think it was pretty obvious,” I said finally. “Don’t you?”

Jack bit his lip, and for a second I could see just what he must have looked like as a little kid, getting caught for something and instantly sorry. Just as quickly, though, he was getting to his feet, taking his breakfast to go. “Tell her the boat needs gas,” he said over his shoulder as he dropped his glass in the sink. “Not sure she realizes.”

I nodded, and then he was gone, down the hallway to the door. As he went to push it open, I saw him pause, glancing at the entryway to the living room and porch beyond where Bailey was still sleeping. I thought he might go to her or say something. No. He did, however, ease the door shut slowly behind him, so for once it didn’t slam.





Ten


I was working in room three that morning, while Trinity tackled four, her vacuum banging against the wall separating us. I’d just started changing the sheets when Roo passed by, carrying a ladder.

The walkie-talkie was stuck in his back pocket again, and he was whistling cheerfully, as he passed room four, then five, before finally stopping in front of six to set up the ladder. I watched, silent, until he started to climb it. Then I couldn’t help myself.