7. Lottie
Lottie
I sling my bag over my shoulder and poke my head around G's office doorway. “I’m going to get lunch with Noah and Nellie. Do you want me to bring something back for you?”
She barely glances at me. “No, don't worry about me. You go have fun with them.”
I say a quick goodbye and then head to the garage to get in my car. The drive over to the diner is quick, and as usual, when I park my car, a smile quirks up the side of my mouth.
After I graduated college, I started working at the diner again to supplement my income while I got my podcast off the ground. It was both a sad and a happy day when I had to quit because I was making enough money to become a full-time podcaster.
There are times I miss the frantic energy of the restaurant. Mabel will call me randomly when she needs an extra set of hands. It doesn't happen very often, so I usually say yes when it does.
Noah and Nellie aren't here yet, so I grab a table and order a soda. Behind me, the gossip crew, led by Cheryl Laskey, is in full swing. With my back to them, I can sit and listen while I wait for Noah and Nellie to arrive.
“Did you hear little Timmy Keets was back in the hospital again?”
“Yes, poor kid. I hope they figure out what’s going on with him.”
“It’s probably living next to the Housemans that’s making him sick.”
“What do the Housemans have to do with it?”
“They let those chickens roam around free! They make an awful racket, I tell you what.”
“I’m not sure that would make a child get sick. Besides, I thought Timmy just had strep throat again, and they were looking to get his tonsils out.”
I start to laugh and have to bite my cheek to keep from making a noise. If I laughed at them, they would be pissed at me, and I refuse to be on the gossip crew’s bad side.
Noah and Nellie walk into the diner a few minutes later with matching smiles.
“Sorry, we're a little late. We got distracted,” Nellie says, her bright blue eyes sparkling. She’s turned into a beautiful and brilliant teenager.
I stand to give them both a big squeeze before sitting back in the booth.
Noah and Nellie sit across from me, telling me about how they were running an experiment this morning and lost all track of time.
After getting bullied in school for being autistic, they started homeschooling Nellie.
Now, she’s grades above her age level and has started taking a few classes at the community college in Westlake.
Their other daughter, Mirabelle, is six and in kindergarten.
Where Nellie struggled to be in a classroom, Mirabelle thrives there. She’s a spitfire, just like her mom.
“How's everything with you?” Noah asks after our waitress takes our order.
“Fine. I still haven’t landed on my next case for the podcast. It’s been months, and I haven’t found one that’s piqued my interest.”
“Want me to do some research?” Nellie offers.
“Nah, I’ll find one eventually. Thank you for offering.”
“It’s good for you to take some time off. You’ve been running nonstop for a while.”
I shrug. “I like my job.”
“So do I, but I also need a break now and then.” Noah gives me the dad look he’s perfected over the last seven years.
When he found out he was Nellie’s dad, he jumped in with both feet and didn’t look back.
It suits him. “Speaking of taking a vacation, would you be up for pet sitting for us? Lilly and I were talking about taking the girls to New York City for a long weekend.”
“I’d be happy to.” They have the cutest cats I’ve ever seen. It’s not a hardship to hang out at their beautiful farmhouse and cuddle the fur babies. “Text me the details when you have them.”
Our food arrives while we’re talking about the classes Nellie’s taking and the subjects she is interested in right now. It changes regularly, but science seems to be her overarching favorite.
Noah and Nellie are explaining their plans for when Nellie graduates when words from the gossip crew begin to filter into my brain.
“Jackie told me someone moved into Old Man Kavanagh's house.”
“Really? Do we know who?”
“Don't have a clue. It seems like the man's a recluse, which is fitting since he moved into the recluse's house.”
“Just because he hasn't come into town doesn't mean he's a recluse.”
Cheryl scoffs. “Of course, it does. Who doesn't want to come into town to socialize? ”
They get off on a tangent, arguing about what constitutes socializing and why it is or isn’t okay to socialize with people in town.
If the blood from my face hadn't been draining and I wasn't freaking out about the fact that somebody was in Old Man Kavanagh's house, I would laugh at their bickering.
I do my best to tune back in to Noah and Nellie’s conversation, but all the while my brain is spinning over who could have moved into his house.
If it had been sold to somebody new, I feel like that would’ve been big news in town. Then again, I do my best to stay out of town gossip. Half of it is speculation, and only a fraction is actually true.
It's been four years since I've heard from Teddy. At this point, I'm too scared to find out what happened to him. I can't imagine the mission he told me about has lasted this long, but I don’t know how any of it works, so maybe it has.
The optimistic part of me says he's too busy to email me back, but the more logical part of me knows it’s more likely he isn’t alive anymore to respond.
I haven't let myself dwell on that thought for very long. I have to shove it out of my mind altogether. Otherwise, I’ll end up heartbroken over something I’m not sure is true.
It's silly to be sad about the idea of losing somebody I barely even knew, but after emailing with him for so long, I feel like I did.
It took me three years to stop emailing him. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I couldn't stand checking my email multiple times a day only to find no response from him.
The fact that I let it go on for that long is pathetic.
“I think we might have lost her, Baby Bee.”
My eyes jerk back up to Noah, and I shrug sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I got lost in my head there for a minute.”
“That's okay,” Nellie pipes up. “I do that a lot. Mom and Dad are always trying to get my attention, and I'm just too busy thinking about things.”
I force myself to focus on our lunch. I love them both to bits, and I’m grateful Lilly brought Nellie into our lives. Spending time with them makes me happy.
Once we've paid and are walking out of the diner, my thoughts stray back to who could have moved into Old Man Kavanagh's house.
Would it be completely insane to drive out there and find out? If only to squash this tiny spark of hope that maybe it's Teddy. The likelihood of that happening is minimal, but I won’t know until I ask.
Maybe if I can prove that Teddy's never coming back, I’ll stand a chance of moving on. I've been hung up on him for so long that the idea of trying to date somebody else is hard to fathom.
But I'm twenty-six. I don't have a whole lot of prospects. Add in the fact that I live in a small town, and my pond shrinks even more.
Cue the Charlotte Lucas monologue from the 2005 Pride and Prejudice.
It boils down to this: My choices are limited. If I don't start looking now, my dream of having a family like the one I grew up in will only get further away. If that’s what’s meant to be, then fine. But sabotaging my chances because of a ghost is stupid.
I give Noah and Nellie a big hug and jump in my car. But I can’t make myself drive home.
“This is crazy, Lottie,” I murmur out loud. “If you get murdered, your dad is going to bring you back to life and kill you.” With that tiny pep talk, I put my car in drive and make my way toward Old Man Kavanagh’s house.
It's out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by normally gorgeous foliage, but winter is slowly turning into spring, so the trees are still bare, creating an almost spooky vibe as I drive up the pathway. The small house is in desperate need of repairs, and sitting out front is an old truck.
Somebody is obviously home.
God, I think this is the stupidest thing I've ever done, which is saying something, seeing as how I interview people involved in crimes.
I get out of the car and make my way to the front door. I tap my knuckles against the beat-up screen door, hoping I don't have to open it and try the front door. Silence greets my knock, and I wonder if somebody actually is home.
I'm about to turn around and leave when the front door opens, and a gasp leaves my mouth.