28. Brooke
28
brOOKE
When I worked on the set design at the theater last night, putting some final touches in, Brenda didn’t even speak to me. I don’t blame her.
Somehow, everything Lucas and I do ends up making things worse for her and Officer Hernandez. And to make a bad situation even more terrible, now her brother isn’t speaking to either of them. He’s back in town for a week, he’d been planning on seeing her in the play, and now he refuses to even look at her.
Lucas went to meet up with Dorian today, to yet again try to convince him that he’s fired and needs to leave town immediately, so I’m wandering the downtown area with nothing much to do.
It’s Sunday, and Brenda is working the day shift at Velma’s. I don’t want to go in there, because she might swap the sugar in my coffee for cyanide.
Well, she’s Brenda, so she wouldn’t do that. The truth is, I can’t face her because I feel guilty about ruining her life.
Glumly, I pull my sketchbook out of my purse, sit down on a bench, and start sketching the shops across the street .
Maybe when we get back home—if we get back home—I can convince Lucas to let me leave early a couple of times a week so I have more energy for sketching, or even a day to volunteer at the theater where Tara works as artistic director. He seems like he’s got a more accommodating attitude towards my schedule these days.
Across the street, in front of Velma’s, I hear angry, raised voices. I look up from my sketchpad. Carmel is standing outside of the restaurant on the sidewalk, holding one of her baskets, and Theodore is yelling and gesturing at her.
She turns and stomps off. He stalks into the restaurant and slams the door behind him.
“Carmel,” I call out. “Over here!”
She looks around, spots me, and makes her way over to me, a piece of paper clutched in one hand and the basket in the other.
“Can you believe this?” she demands.
She’s usually so cheerful.
“What is it?” I look at the piece of paper. It’s a restraining order.
“What the heck is that for?” I say in astonishment.
“Theodore just served this to me so I can’t set foot in his restaurant again. I was leaving free muffins in there.” She huffs an indignant breath.
“That rat bastard.” I glare at the closed door.
“Everyone loves my muffins.” Her eyes are glinting like she might cry.
“Of course they do,” I say soothingly. “He’s just jealous. If he had half a brain, he’d sell your muffins for five dollars a pop, and you’d both make a fortune.”
“Well, thank you. I can still just walk around town and hand them out, I guess.” She’s got a pouty look on her face.
“Carmel, with all the time you spend baking those muffins, when do you have time to run Jasper’s business? ”
Carmel shrugs. “Oh, that practically runs itself. He’s got everything set up very efficiently.”
“Well, that works for this universe,” I murmur. The readers don’t need to see the inner workings of the business, because that’s not the important part of the story. Therefore, it doesn’t require much work to keep it going.
Carmel’s brow wrinkles in puzzlement. “Say what now?”
“Oh, nothing.” I lean back on the bench. “Okay, you and Dorian work together. I have a question about him.”
“Well, we’re not really speaking much these days. He seems pretty pre-occupied. We’ve set up separate offices, and he only checks in with me occasionally. But go ahead; I’ll try to help.”
“Jasper is trying to fire Dorian. He’s repeatedly told Dorian he’s fired. Why isn’t Dorian listening?”
Carmel frowns. “I don't know. He seems very dedicated to seeing this downtown reconstruction project through to the end.”
I shake my head in confusion. “Why, though? It’s not his project; it’s Jasper’s. What difference would it make to Dorian? If Jasper ditches this project, Dorian would just go work on something else. But now he’s got Jasper so riled up that he wants to fire Dorian.”
“I don’t know. Dorian just keeps talking about the investors.”
I narrow my eyes. “That sounds like a problem. The investors aren’t his concern. His only loyalty should be to his boss.”
“I know that, but talking to Dorian is like talking to a brick wall.” She makes a face. “An oily, gross brick wall that smirks at you. Well, okay, that’s nothing like a brick wall. I hate talking to him, okay?”
I knew I liked Carmel.
Well, once I got over the shock of her being Lucas’s assistant in this universe, I liked her .
Speaking of characters in this universe . . .
“By the way, has anyone seen Pri-Annelise lately?” I ask.
“Not that I know of. Since the bust-up at the cemetery, I think she’s been lying low.” The cemetery. Damn it, I still don’t know who Lucas was talking to there, and it’s driving me crazy. I can’t understand why he wouldn’t just tell me.
“So she’s just hanging out at the house that she’s renting, I guess? I’m sure we’d hear about it if she’d left town.”
“I guess.” Carmel wrinkles up her nose. “Why do you care about her? I try to stay out of Jasper’s personal life, but I always thought she was nuts.”
“Do you think she was telling the truth about being engaged to him?”
Carmel shrugs. “Honestly, he wouldn’t necessarily have told me right up until it was time to run a wedding announcement. We didn’t have any kind of friendship outside of work. He’s saying that he didn’t ask her to marry him, though, right?”
“Yes, he is. Have you ever known him to be a liar?”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “Jasper Whitfield may be rude, blunt, pushy, demanding, unappreciative, and stubborn... but he’s not a liar.”
I stifle a laugh. “That sounds so familiar.”
“Wow, you know somebody else like that? Poor you.” Her face softens. “Although Jasper has changed considerably since he met you. For the better. He’s even starting to wonder if he should go through with this downtown project at all.”
Well, of course he’s changed. Otherwise there wouldn’t be any plot development.
“I think he’s finally coming to his senses. I really believe he may just cancel it entirely.”
“That would be so much better for this town. I’ve really come to like it here. People have really come around over the last few weeks.” She smiles.
I nod. “You know one thing this town is lacking? ”
“What’s that?”
“A muffin shop. S-h-o-p-p-e.”
“Say what now?” she says, eyes widening. “Why, it had never occurred to me.”
“How could it possibly not have—never mind. There’s one empty storefront on Main Street. Maybe it’s just waiting for the right occupant. You’d absolutely kill it as a muffin pusher—I mean, as a bakery that sells muffins—and you actually love doing that. You should follow your passion.” I tuck my sketching supplies in my purse. “I’m going to go to Pri-Annelise's house to see if she’s okay.”
Carmel squints at me skeptically. “Again, why would you care?”
I sigh. “I know she’s annoying, and melodramatic, and crazy, and trying to sabotage things between Jasper and me, but... wait, where was I going with this?”
“Anywhere but Pri-Annelise’s house?”
“Nah. I have to go. I just... she’s hurting. She thinks she’s in love with him. If a person is hurting, and I might be able to help them, I have a moral obligation to try, no matter how insanely annoying they are.”
“If you say so,” she says doubtfully.
I head out of the park and make my way to the house that Pri-Annelise is renting, which is a large bungalow-style building near the downtown area. She’s sitting on the front porch, wearing a pink dress and looking beautifully sad.
I walk up the steps and sit in a white-painted wicker chair, facing her.
“I guess you’ve come to make fun of me,” she says glumly. She’s got a drink clutched in her hand, and she gestures at the glass pitcher on the small table next to the swing. “Screwdriver? It’s never too early.”
“Well, it’s ten a.m., so it’s a little too early. Anyway, I haven’t come to make fun of you. ”
“I thought he was the love of my life. Can you believe he cheated on both of us?” She takes a delicate sip from her glass.
“He didn’t.” I stare her straight in the eye.
Her gaze drops. “I’m sure he was talking to another woman.”
“I doubt that very much. But if you think that he’s such a cheater, why are you still here?”
She shrugs, and her gaze slides off to the left, and I realize she’s looking at the old Victorian house that Dorian Lawrence rented, where he and Carmel are running “Jasper’s” business empire. It’s only a block from this house.
“How much did Dorian pay you to come here, by the way?” I say casually.
“Oh, not that much, only ten grand. I mean, honestly, I’d have come for free...” She trails off and her face instantly flames red with embarrassment.
“Go on,” I say.
“I didn’t come for the money; that was just an extra bonus!” she splutters. “It was a chance for me to get back together with Jasper and show him what a mistake he’d—”
Her eyes widen in horror as she realizes what she just said. “I didn’t mean any of that!” she wails. “It’s the booze talking!”
“Did Dorian buy you the ring, too?” I ask, my tone sympathetic.
She hesitates, squaring her shoulders indignantly, and then her shoulders slump as all the fight leaks out of her. She takes a long gulp of her drink. “No. It’s fake. I bought it myself. It looked like the ring I hoped he’d buy me.”
She gulps down the rest of her screwdriver. “I don’t suppose I could offer you a hundred grand to ditch Jasper and leave town?”
“Sorry, no.”
“I guess it’s all over for me, then. He and I will never be together.” Her plump lower lip pokes out in a pout .
“Pri, I’m not trying to be mean here, but you weren’t going to be together anyway. He never led you on. You tried to make more out of it than there ever was.”
“Maybe.” She sniffles hard.
“Definitely. So what are you going to do now?”
“Go home, I guess,” she says glumly. “You must hate me.”
I shake my head. “I don’t hate you. I feel bad for you. I’ve been through breakups and I know it hurts, but Pri-Annelise, life goes on. Especially when you’re young and gorgeous and live in Manhattan, where the whole world is at your feet. You’ve got to know when to walk away.”
“That’s a problem for me.” Tears well in her eyes. “I always chase after guys who don’t love me back. I offer them everything, and they use me and then toss me out like trash.” She refills her drink. “I want to fall in love with someone who loves me back. Someone who wants to marry me and father my babies.”
“That’s a healthy goal.” I nod sympathetically. “You know what would help with that?”
She brightens. “Sexier lingerie?”
“No!”
“A boob job?”
“For God’s sake, you’ve got a perfect rack. What you need—”
“Lip injections?” she says hopefully.
“Therapy! Therapy would help you work through your relationship issues. Find a good therapist that you really vibe with and try to figure out why a smokin’ hot ten-out-of-ten babe like you is having man trouble.”
“Ohhh...” She nods. “I wonder if it has something to do with my dad leaving my mom and only visiting us occasionally, and my mom blaming me for it.”
“See what great progress you’re making already?” I stand up. “Promise me you will call a therapist as soon as you get back to Manhattan. And don’t get involved with anyone until you’ve been seeing that therapist for a few months.”
She stands up too. “I swear I will. Thank you so much, Susie McGillicuddy! I’ll never forget you.” She grabs me and pulls me into another of her bone-crushing hugs, and I briefly wonder if she’s planning to squish me to death and then try to comfort Jasper for his loss, but she releases me and I step back, gasping for breath.
“Bye!” she says merrily. “I’m already feeling better. Jasper wasn’t even that great. I’m too good for him, aren’t I?”
“Definitely,” I agree, and then I scamper off the porch before she can try to hug me again.