Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Olivia POV
O f all the places a delinquent freshman could go while skipping class, I'm pretty sure the local senior center was . . . nowhere on that list. And yet here I was, ringing the little desk bell. No idea whether Dotty would even see me, much less give me an interview, but, I was out of options. Sort of. At least, I don't know. Maybe I should just suck it up and go back to?—
“She says you can come on back,” the not-Coop desk clerk said. He was young and a little gangly. Maybe an intern from the local high school? I smiled at him and actually had the experience of a normal person opening the door for a visitor.
I huffed under my breath as I moved though the hallway and found Dotty’s unit.
She let me in with only a small smile. “I’m not prepared to be interviewed today.”
I held in a groan. Game face time. “That’s ok. I wasn’t here for the interview. I’d kinda hoped for, you know, a little advice.”
“Not sure I'm in the know these days, dear. You young people's lives are so different. But happy for some company for tea.”
“I’d love some, thank you.” I spilled into a chair and made like I was settling in. She raised an eyebrow, but set about filling her electric kettle with water.
“Most people your age are usually in class about this time of day.” She flipped the switch on the kettle. It made a sputtering sound.
“Most are.”
“So, you're skipping today?” A small frown formed between her eyebrows. I wasn't sure why. It wasn't her money.
“Sort of, yeah,” I said with a shrug.
“You’ll just have to make it up later.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
Dotty muttered something that sounded like “smartass”, and turned away. She pulled down a couple of matching floral mugs. Saucers and spoons joined them on the counter. The kettle gurgled and sputtered in the quiet. How do I approach her? What do I want her to tell me?
I sighed and pulled at the fringed edges of her tablecloth. Mrs. P had made it clear that while she did appreciate the help in keeping the newspaper's integrity intact in the face of Rivers's irresponsible ambulance chasing—my words, not hers—she was also less than amused that I didn't have a decent draft of my Founders’ Day article. She'd had that look on her face, again. I didn't dare bring up the Schorr article. “Not that I want to write about him right now, anyway.”
A wispy whistling sound rung out. Dotty switched off the kettle and opened the small carton of tea on the counter. Plunked tea bags into the two cups. Her hands shook just the tiniest bit, and it occurred to me that maybe I should've?—
“You gonna come out and say what the issue is you’ve made up so you'd have some excuse to visit, or you gonna make me guess?” She poured water into the mugs.
There’s the real Dotty. “Maybe guessing would be more fun?”
“Not that difficult. No doubt has something to do with that tall hunk of baseball player working the front desk some nights.”
“Sort of.”
She scowled. “Oh my foot.”
“You have a problem with your foot?” I glanced under the table at her black clogs with the JuicyRox crown embroidered in silver thread as she shuffled to the table. JuicyRox? The trendy teen brand? “I have some ibutab?—”
“You're definitely not Texan.” She squinted at me. “It’s a saying.” She slid the teacup and saucer across the table. “Here, tea. Next time, you bring me something thoughtful. It's the neighborly thing to do.”
I nodded slowly. Blew at the steam hovering over the cup. Waited while she took a sip. Settled my teacup into the saucer, again. “Someone stole tests.”
“What’s that?”
“It was a whole weird thing involving a computer hacker, and they tried to make it look like Coop did it.”
Her cup clattered against the saucer. “He did no such thing.”
“I know . And me and my friend, well, we proved it. To the faculty, and the newspaper.”
“That you write for.”
“It wasn't my story. But with Cat's help, we scooped the cyber beat guy. I'm sure I'll pay for it at some point, later. Probably.” I sighed. “But one of the baseball players was involved—and a trainer. But Schorr, uh, well . . .” I stared at my hands. Laced them together one way, then loosened and knitted my fingers back again.
“I can't trust you. Not now, not ever.” Coach shouted in my brain.
Somehow, I could hear him like he was still in the room. Or, like I was there. God, how'd this get so messed up?
“That pain in the tuckus?” Dotty made a raspberry sound with her tongue and chuckled. “What’s Sourpuss Henry got to do with any of this?”
“His players? They were involved.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, there's that. Henry knows baseball talent. Doesn’t always know good eggs from bad ones. Bit him more than once over the years.”
“He was supposed to help me work on my skills as a scout. But to prove Coop’s innocence, I kinda had to access his computer. In a less than authorized way.”
“His metal paperweight you mean. And my guess is he didn’t appreciate it.”
“No.”
“So he kicked you out.”
I stared into my teacup. The amber liquid steamed, but held no answers. “More or less.”
“For helping the guy you’re?—”
“For doing the right thing.” I smacked the flat of my hand on the table.
“Mmmm. Of course.” She nodded.
I huffed and grabbed my teacup. I took a sip.
“Hypothetical question for you.” Sharp, hazel-golden eyes met my gaze.
I blew out a breath as I felt a weird, unsettling pang in my stomach. “I thought I was interviewing you?”
“Not yet. I haven’t decided whether I’ll let you. I hear you trying to impress me with your integrity as a journalist. Championing the right thing, no matter the personal cost.”
I frowned and tilted my head.
“Does the right outcome have intrinsic value?”
“What?” That unsettled feeling gripped my stomach and squeezed.
“Does catching the bad guys have its own value? So, the method and the reason, none of that matters as long as the ‘right outcome’ is achieved?”
“Really? Philosophy before caffeine seems inhuman.” I sighed. “In some respects, I’d say yes. But I suppose our government would disagree.”
“It does. You were wrong to access that man’s computer without his permission, regardless of whether you had the best or worst of intentions.”
“Yes ma’am. I know, but I really was trying to do something good for his team. I was afraid he wouldn't understand. Wouldn't trust me. All of the above.”
“Well, I happen to know for a fact that Henry’s had hundreds of kids tripping and stumbling over themselves on their way to adulthood—making all kinds of boneheaded mistakes over the years. The key is to admit you were wrong. You can do that, can’t you?”
“I don’t feel like I was completely in the wrong. But, I could’ve made some better choices.”
“You have a blind spot where that Copper guy’s concerned.”
“Cooper. And I have no idea what you're talking about.” I waved a hand and looked away. The bookshelf along the far wall was super interesting. Maybe I could read titles from here.
“Yes, yes, I know you claim you two don’t like each other.”
“He definitely doesn’t like me.”
She coughed. I glanced her way and saw her place a hand on her chest. “Sure, fine, if you insist, dear.”
“You ok?”
She gave me a weird grin. “Just went down the wrong pipe. You want another cup?”
“Oh, sure. If you're having some.” I nodded and sat back in my chair.
“Maybe some crackers to snack on this time,” she said as she rose from her chair. I handed her my empty teacup.
I eyed my phone in the pocket of my bag as it vibrated and lit up. I glanced over my shoulder at Dotty shuffling around her kitchen. I assumed she'd consider it rude, but she's busy. No harm in looking. I grabbed the device and unlocked it, then covered my mouth as I snickered. Antonio had thieved Hilda's phone and taken a selfie of them together at the off-campus coffeeshop.
“Why do you say he hates you, dear?”
I shoved the phone back in my bag. “Who? Oh, right, Coop. He hates all reporters.” I shook my head. “There was a guy?—”
“Yes, I know all about that nonsense. Seems pretty justified to me.” Dotty ran water from the water cooler into her electric kettle.
“What, that he called me a snake when all I've done is try to help him? I saved his sorry butt from being expelled.” My blood ran hot as it rushed through my veins.
“Then if that were the only reason? Shouldn't be a problem, now, right?”
My stomach flipped over, then sank. “What do you mean?”
“I mean if he just doesn't trust reporters. And you helped him out, problem's solved.”
I blinked. Was that possible?
A loud knock rapped against the door. She glanced at me, then at the door.
“Are you expecting someone?” I stood up. Maybe it was some regular routine something or other? Or an appointment? I didn't know how senior facilities worked.
“Not in the slightest. Be a dear and answer it will you?”
I moved to the door, opened it, and stared. There, in the hallway stood a bleary-eyed Coop holding a small bouquet of pink and white flowers. “What the hell? Why are you here?”
I sighed. “And problem not solved.”
He paced. Like a caged, really tall animal, he paced Dotty's small apartment. “You look like you could use a cup of tea. Really strong tea.” She told the giant-sized pest.
“The trick is not to invite them in.” I offered.
“Not to invite who, dear?”
“The six-foot pest invading your apartment.” I looked at my teacup. “When was the last time you had this place sprayed for bugs?”
“They come quarterly, dear.” She huffed then sneezed. “They really need to come and change the AC filters more often, though. I used to have my late husband Jasper change them every month. You'd be surprised at the amount of sand those things pick up.” She sneezed again. It was this dainty high-pitched “choo” sound. She grabbed a kleenex from a cross-stitched, decorative box—like my own Grandmother possessed. Must be an old people thing.
“Won't you sit down, Mr. Cooper?”
He glanced at me. Our eyes met for a brief instant. Those deep blue irises framed with . . . I looked away.
“Will you at least tell me the occasion? The alstroemeria are lovely, but?—”
“Just thank you.” Came the grumbled reply. Dotty raised an eyebrow and pressed her lips together. She turned on the kettle, and it was like the two of them stepped out of the world I was in, and into their own.
“I've told you before,” she said.
“It's not that simple.”
“You're unbelievably pigheaded. And I promised myself I wouldn't ask for details, but when you show up like this.” She motioned at him.
He stopped pacing.
“Sit down, you overgrown . . . giraffe. You make the ceilings look too low in this place.”
He spun my direction, and it was like I had the whole of his attention. “Why are you here, Milline?” His voice came out in some raspy-growly tone that I found far too appealing for my own good.
“She came to interview me. I told her not today, but she stayed for tea.”
“She does that.”
“What? What does that mean?” I scowled at him. “I do what, Coop?”
“You're not good at taking no for an answer.”
“And where would I be if I was?”
He shrugged and leaned back against Dotty's countertop. He grabbed an apple from her fruit bowl and took a bite. “You tell me.”
I huffed, sputtered, tried to find words. “Where would I be? Some trophy thing for my father to hand out. I wouldn't be here, that's for sure. Scrapping for any kind of shot at—” I snapped my mouth shut as my brain caught up with my ramblings. Uh, nope, was not going to tell Coop about my scouting ambitions. “None of your—No comment.” My heart pounded in my ears. I'd learned the hard way, my family's business wasn't a W for my dating win column. Especially when it came to hopeful baseball players wanting attention from scouts.
“Besides, you of all people should be glad I don't. Where would you be if I did?”
“Suing the school.” He studied his apple. “No doubt I'd win.”
I rolled my eyes. “You'd be expelled.”
“That, too.” He met my gaze and cocked one eyebrow.
I glared. “Since you're handing out 'thank yous' this morning . . .”
“Not on your?—”
Choo! Dotty sneezed just as the kettle whistle blared. “Cooper, would you be a dear and go fetch a replacement filter from the front maintenance closet?”
He rose to his full height and dutifully headed toward the door.
“Take my keys. The filters are on the third shelf from the top. The tea will wait for you.” She lifted the mug and gave him the old lady version of a winning smile.
He grunted, grabbed a keyring from a hook on the wall, and headed out the door.
“You should probably get back to class.” Dotty turned a no-nonsense look toward me. I held in a sigh, but I didn't feel much like dealing with Coop, anyway. My stomach lumped, turned and lumped again. I'd helped him. And it'd cost me. But I was still 'the enemy' or some shit. I was done. Jerkface. Pain in the tuckus.
“You even listening, blondie?”
“Huh?”
“I said, you should take notes from that Cooper. He's nice to this old lady, bringing me flowers. Just an exceptional young man.”
I stared as a flash of heat tore through my abdomen. “Be more like him? Are you—” I clenched my teeth to keep the rest of the words inside my mouth. I still needed an interview from this lady, but that was a low blow.
” . . . walks me to my room, brings me my dinner. Helped me up when I fell. Picked me up like I weighed nothing at all.”
“So glad to hear.” I yanked my bag over my shoulder, set my jaw and tried to calmly, normally, walk to the door. When I wanted to stomp and snarl.
“I don't mind having guests, of course. I just appreciate how thoughtful he is that I'm not waiting on him when he comes by.” A tight-lipped smile formed beneath a piercing gaze.
“I'll buy you some Royal Tips when you grant me that interview.” I tossed over my shoulder as I pulled open the door. “A whole box.”
“Don't forget to say bye to your hunky baseball crush.”
I turned and flipped off her closed door. Hunky baseball crush? Seriously? Hunky? I trudged off in the direction of the front desk. At this rate, interviewing one of the deceased members of the Vachon family seemed less difficult.