Chapter Nineteen
I spent the rest of the afternoon driving around, wondering how I was going to get out of this NOI-related mess. A side trip to the Krispy Kreme with the drive-through helped. Hot doughnuts served through your car window and meant to be eaten immediately. Pure magic and one of the best things about this town. The weather, Gram, and these doughnuts formed the perfect Winston-Salem trifecta.
Celia was the only one in the kitchen when I walked in. The bulk of the baking appeared to be done. I picked that up from the flour all over the floor and the stacked, mostly empty mixing bowls with just enough homemade whipped cream left inside the top one for a taste. They cleaned as they baked but food carnage happened. Very tasty food carnage.
Celia held out the spoon covered with exactly one lick left on it. “For you.”
I sat down at the breakfast bar and dug in. “Was there a flour war while I was gone?”
“I dropped the bag.”
Celia didn’t take a break from wiping down the counters and cabinet fronts. “Where have you been all day? You tend to hide from people you went to high school with, so I doubt you were out with old friends.”
“I’m happy to say I continued my avoid-the-former-mean-girls streak.”
I refused to be lured in by social media’s promise of “finding old friends” online because no, thank you. If these people really were my friends I’d still be in touch with them.
“I studied your organization suggestion in more depth over lunch.”
Celia nodded, clearly satisfied with her cleanup job. “You’ve really been hiding your business skills.”
More like I tripped over a stray skill by accident. “We can set it up if you want. Maybe work out the bugs.”
“Will you be in town long enough for that?”
By tomorrow at this time I’d likely be fired, so yeah. “I can stay at least another week.”
“You should have made her do the cleanup. Builds character.”
Gram made that announcement as she slipped in the back door, carrying a tray of muffins.
She put them on the counter in front of me. The move destroyed what little concentration I had left. I knew a banana chocolate chip muffin when I saw one.
I reached for the plump one on the right side as Gram started talking. “Were you at Graylyn today?”
I tried not to smash the muffin into crumbs, but I couldn’t make my fingers unclench. I also forgot how to breathe. “Why, were you?”
Gram snorted. “No. I worked all day.”
What kind of trick was this? Instead of rushing in and bumbling around—my automatic response—I waded in nice and slow. “I’m not sure—”
“Charlotte was there and saw you.”
I had no idea who Charlotte was. Gram frequently threw out names, expecting I could follow along with some story about some person she talked about one time ten years ago. Elma moved into the condo her son bought her. Shyla finished chemo. Larette ran over her husband with a car. Those were just examples from last week. Okay, maybe not the Larette one but that was the kind of hometown news I wanted to hear. More of that.
I’d gotten the lowdown on Paula, Annabelle, Maxine, and Cheryl before I arrived in town. Gram had a never-ending list of people, some friends and some not, who had things or did things she thought I should know about because you were in choir with her goddaughter in sixth grade or some other such thing.
Who were these people?
Whatever was happening, Gram had Celia’s attention now. “I thought Charlotte went to Maine.”
Maine sounded like a nice diversion from whatever Charlotte usually did. I’d love to be there right now.
“No. It’s too early. She goes in summer, but that might be off,”
Gram said.
Gram and Celia both made sad humming sounds.
Poor Charlotte.
“I think she’s afraid to leave that husband of hers alone.”
Gram delivered another snort. “You know what happened last time.”
They did. Charlotte did. I didn’t but I wanted to. For now, I was content to sit there with my muffin crumbs and listen to the details.
“That man.”
Celia shook her head but didn’t add anything else. Her tone made her feelings clear on Charlotte’s husband. Not a fan.
Without warning, Gram and Celia both turned to me.
My stomach did an Olympic tumble. “If you’re asking me, I think Charlotte can do better. I don’t even know her, and I think she could do better.”
Gram frowned. “She’s the one who helped me plant tulips last year.”
That information did not help my memory one bit. Gram looked so cute, standing there holding an oven mitt, that I pretended. “Oh, right.”
“Were you really at Graylyn?”
Celia asked.
I’d hoped we’d moved on and found another topic but apparently not. They would not let this go. If Celia decided to back Gram up on the interrogation I would fold before I could shove this destroyed muffin, liner included, in my mouth.
It was too risky to deny being at Graylyn. For all I knew this Charlotte person took a photo of me sitting there, trying to ignore Micah. But I had to hit the conversation sweet spot because an avalanche of details only invited more questions.
“Are your movements a secret?”
Celia froze. “Oh . . . I didn’t . . . Was it a date?”
That came out of nowhere. “Who would I be dating here?”
Gram and Celia glanced at each other but didn’t make a noise.
“Hey. That’s enough of those looks and all the silent communication.”
I pointed at both of them. “You’ve been doing that secret mind meld thing for years and I still can’t decipher it.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Gram’s smile suggested she did.
Celia unwrapped another fully intact muffin and put it on a plate in front of me. “If not a date then why were you there?”
Plying me with food. Smart. But did they know? It felt like they knew, but how could they?
Now would be the perfect time to come clean. Admit that I’d messed up at work and dragged them along with me. Be mature. Apologize and stem the bleeding. Get this handled and done in an adult way then start looking for a new job.
I didn’t do any of that.
“It’d been a while since I’d been at Graylyn. I decided to have coffee and take a walk on the grounds.”
Gram frowned. The take a walk part might have tipped her off to the lie. “You got coffee at noon by yourself?”
I could handle this. Coffee and food sat solidly in my conversation wheelhouse. But Gram referenced the time I left Graylyn. Very specific. She could know other stuff. She was a sneaky one.
Step carefully. “I picked up the habit at work. I now drink coffee all day.”
“Honey, no.”
Celia winced. “That’s not good.”
“Sweet tea would be a better choice,”
Gram insisted.
Not the way she made it. “I wonder if there’s science to support that claim.”
Gram moved on from her usual snort. This time she went with her famous pfft sound.
“We have a big day tomorrow. We have to prepare for a charity brunch.”
Celia sighed. “It needs to be perfect because a lot of potential customers will be there.”
They bought the coffee thing. At least they pretended to. “We could get takeout tonight so no one, and by that I mean you two, have to worry about cooking dinner.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
Gram believed food should come from her stove, not a bag.
Her comment touched off a whole nothing compares to homemade cooking discussion. With that, the energy surging through me eased. Balance restored. I could handle food prep chatter.
The main problem was that this reprieve wouldn’t last forever. Brock wanted a showdown. I feared he was going to get it.