Chapter 12
MALCOM RARELY REMEMBERED HIS DREAMS, but he woke up in the middle of sprinting after his brother. Bronson had been running through the trees that bordered the condo complex. He awoke, feeling bothered that his brother had outrun him, even if it was only a dream. Bronson golfed, yes, and hiked, but Malcom knew that if there were ever a race between them, he’d win, hands down.
He gazed up at the ceiling. The sun wasn’t even up yet, but he could tell by the pale gray of the room that dawn was on its way. His mind traced back over everything from the past couple of days—the revelation from Brandy, his short conversation with Bronson, his time spent with Lori, the kitten . . .
He reached for his phone, and sure enough, there was a text from Lori. She’d sent a list of pet items about twenty minutes ago. Seemed like she hadn’t slept much.
Did you sleep? he texted back.
Some, she replied. Tiger got the zoomies around 3:00 a.m. and I’ve been awake since.
He could only guess what that meant. If you need a cat-sitter for a couple of hours, I can come grab him. It’s still early enough for you to go back asleep. His phone confirmed it was close to six a.m.
Thanks for the offer, but I’m already in the shop, getting things ready .
Malcom stared at her words. Maybe he could take the morning off? He switched over to his calendar to check on the supply delivery schedule. There would be three deliveries this morning alone. He had to oversee them.
I could grab you breakfast when I’m getting the cat supplies. Let me know what sounds good.
Anything sounds good.
He smiled at that, then wrote, See you soon. Or whenever the grocery store opened. A quick Google search told him the grocery store opened at six a.m., so that was good news. He climbed out of bed and took a quick shower. He’d run another day. Right now, Lori needed him.
As he drove out of the parking lot in his truck, he wondered how he’d become so invested in the woman across the street. They were friends—new friends—yet he hadn’t ever delivered breakfast to a woman at the crack of dawn. Or bought cat food and cat litter.
Once he reached the grocery store, he stood for several long moments in the pet food aisle. Who knew there were so many choices of cat food and cat litter? How picky was Lori? He texted her photos of the options, hoping she’d be able to reply soon. A couple of minutes later, she told him what to buy, then he loaded everything into the cart and stopped at the deli. He’d bought breakfast here a few times.
He grabbed a couple of burritos that were filled with scrambled eggs, veggies, and bacon, then he picked up a small orange juice too. He didn’t know exactly what she liked, but she’d eaten what he’d brought out on a plate at that barbecue, so she didn’t seem too picky.
When he parked in front of her shop, the sun was up, and the clouds looked light and innocent in the sky. Maybe the rain would hold off for the day.
He knocked on the shop’s door, not sure if it was open. Moments later, Lori appeared. She opened the door and smiled at him. “You’re here.”
Malcom smiled back. Lori wasn’t wearing any Halloween earrings—too early still? She wore a black sweatshirt with orange lettering that said Boo! and black leggings. Her dark hair was braided and hanging over one shoulder.
“I’m here. Hungry?”
“Starving,” she said, motioning for him to come inside.
He handed her the sack instead. “I’ll grab the cat stuff from my truck. Do you want it upstairs?”
“Sure,” she said without hesitation.
He hurried to the truck and hefted the bags, then followed her through the store and up a set of stairs.
“I don’t think he’s litter trained,” Lori said as she opened the door. “He used the newspaper only once, and the rest of the time, he found a different place.”
“Is it hard to litter train?” Malcom asked.
“Not usually.”
He stepped into an apartment that he could have guessed was hers even if he hadn’t been told. He tried not to stare, but that was nearly impossible.
On the opposite wall, three bookshelves stood side by side, crammed with books and decorative items. A small couch—more of a love seat—was draped with an orange-and-black afghan. The other half of the room was a kitchen, and a decorative witch’s hat posed as the table’s centerpiece.
Beyond the front room, a hallway likely led to the bedroom.
“You can put everything on the table,” Lori said.
As he did so, she called out, “Tiger. Malcom’s here.”
And just like that, as if the kitten had already been trained, it came trotting down the hall.
Malcom crouched and snapped his fingers a couple times. The kitten walked right up to him.
“He remembers you,” Lori said, sounding impressed.
While Malcom pet the creature, she dug through the stuff he’d bought. In moments, she had the litter box set up. She scooped up Tiger and set him in the center of the sand. “This is where you go potty,” she told him.
The kitten batted around the sand for a moment, then hopped out, shaking off its paws.
“Round one lost?” Malcom asked.
Lori smiled. “I’ll win in the end.” She washed off her hands, then turned to the sack of food. “Oh, these look good. Stay and eat with me if you want.”
“I don’t think I have a choice,” Malcom said. “Tiger isn’t letting me go.” The kitten was hanging on to his pant leg and biting at the seam. He tried to pick the cat off, but only got a nip in return. “Ow. Your teeth are sharp.”
Lori laughed. “They’re just baby teeth, and those are love bites.” She pulled out a chair. “Here, sit.”
He moved to the table, the kitten still attached to his pant leg. After he sat down, Tiger climbed the rest of the way until he was nestled in Malcom’s lap. He looked down at the thing. “He’s asleep already? It’s like switching off a light.”
“Yeah.” Lori handed him one of the burritos with a couple of napkins that had been inside the sack. “Cats sleep a lot. Especially kittens.”
“Do you really think it was abandoned?”
Lori shrugged. “Only time will tell. I posted a photo on a lost-pets website this morning.”
“They have those?” Malcom asked. “Makes sense.”
They both started eating, and finally Lori said, “I’d apologize for the messy state of my apartment, but it’s actually the normal state.”
He looked about. There were definitely things in every corner and nook and cranny, but he wouldn’t call it messy exactly. “It’s cozy.”
A smile lifted her lips. “That’s one way to look at it.”
He chuckled. “Really. My mom is a collector of several things. Calendars, old books, all kinds of things.”
“What kinds of books?” she asked, her eyes lighting up.
“I don’t know exactly—sorry,” he said. “I can ask her next time we talk.”
“Oh, you don’t need to do that, unless you really want to.” Lori took a sip of her juice. “I’m just curious if maybe she’s collecting classics, or poetry, or just a favorite author.”
Malcom blinked. “I never thought to ask, and I haven’t checked them out.” His gaze strayed to the bookshelves in the other room with their mixture of books and other items. “Do you collect any of those?”
“Not specifically,” she said. “I love a used book that’s inscribed to someone. You know, like a ‘happy birthday’ or ‘get well’ message. It feels like a little memory that lasts forever. Even though they aren’t signed to me, it feels like I’m sharing in that memory.”
“Huh, I never thought of it that way,” Malcom said. “I assumed those books would be hard to sell when someone passes on.” The more he got to know Lori, the more interesting she became.
“Not to me.” She’d finished the breakfast burrito, and stood to clean things up.
“I can help,” he said.
“You have a cat on your lap,” she countered.
He chuckled. “True.” He couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so relaxed. Or was it peaceful? The morning sun warmed the small kitchen, and he sat in a cozy space, his stomach satisfied, and a purring kitten on his lap. Its fur gleamed gold in the morning light. “Did you give the cat a bath?”
“Yes,” Lori said with a huff. “He did not like it, but he smells so good now.”
Malcom wasn’t about to smell the cat, but he was appreciating the soft, clean fur.
His phone rang, jolting him out of the peaceful morning. Pulling it out of his pocket, he checked the caller. “Sorry, I need to head out.”
Lori waved a hand and smiled. “No problem.” She moved around the table and scooped up the kitten. “How much do I owe you for the cat supplies?”
“It’s on me,” he said.
She tilted her head, her eyes soft. “Thanks for everything.”
He nodded, wishing he could stay a little longer. If only he didn’t have to deal with his brother tonight, he could come back and help her with the event. Or just take care of the kitten.
The rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Malcom was plenty busy. Every time he looked across the street at the shop, he’d see people coming and going. A few booths had been set up on the sidewalk, and once he thought he saw Lori. But it was too hard to tell.
By the late afternoon, Malcom felt jittery, and by the time he headed to his brother’s house, he wondered if he was overreacting. Maybe there was a perfectly good explanation for all of this.
On his drive, Penny called. Twice. Malcom let both calls go to voicemail, but instead of leaving a message, she texted him. He glanced at his phone to see that she was trying to meet up with him tonight. Something about a Halloween party. He didn’t bother to open the texts.
When he arrived at Bronson’s, his brother was just getting out of his car. Talk about perfect timing.
Malcom parked and helped him unload his golf clubs. “How was the tournament?” he asked, even though he didn’t want to engage in small talk.
“Came in seventh,” Bronson said. “Bunch of cheaters.”
Malcom didn’t know if his brother was being serious, or if he was just mad about not winning. “I guess it’s all for charity in the end, right?”
Bronson shrugged. “Penny’s group did well in the women’s bracket. They got second place.”
“Bronson, you’re back?” Kari’s voice called out when they walked in through the connecting door from the garage. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Malcom’s here,” Bronson said just as she appeared.
Her eyes widened for a moment, then she smiled. “Oh nice. What brings you over?”
Malcom hid a frown. “Just need to go over some business stuff with Bronson.”
His brother chuckled. “Couldn’t wait until tomorrow, I guess. Huh, bro?”
“No, it can’t,” Malcom answered, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. Was Kari involved in any of this or would she be just as shocked?
“I’d really like a shower first,” Bronson said, “but it’s probably been a long day for you too?”
“Yeah,” Malcom said. “You can shower if you want first. I’m not going anywhere.”
In fact, it was probably better. He needed a focused Bronson. Who knew where their conversation would go.
Thirty minutes later, they sat in his home office, which consisted of top-of-the-line computer equipment and deep leather chairs. Kari had brought them drinks and said she’d ordered some dinner for everyone.
Malcom didn’t think dinner with him would be happening—at least not on friendly terms.
“What’s up?” Bronson asked, leaning back in his office chair, one tanned ankle propped on his knee.
“Let’s pull up the accounts receivable spreadsheets on the computer.”
Bronson’s brow furrowed as he did so.
Malcom spent the next fifteen minutes walking him through everything he had discovered.
Bronson’s jaw was tight, but he didn’t say much.
“Well?” Malcom asked. “What’s going on? Where’s the money going?”
“I don’t know—it’s nothing I did,” he said, but his voice was strange-sounding.
“You’re the only one besides me with full access to the accounts. Unless Kari knows your passwords? Or Penny?”
It was a low blow to make the accusations, but Malcom needed answers, and Bronson’s reaction shouldn’t be so passive.
“You’re accusing my wife of embezzling?” he asked, his voice rising.
“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Malcom shot back. “I’m asking questions. And if you don’t have the answers, then we need to open an investigation.”
Bronson’s face reddened. “You’re just trying to get more money out of this.”
“Out of what?” Malcom asked, confused.
“Penny told me you’re talking about leaving the company.”
Malcom frowned. He’d never said that to Penny. So how could she know anything? He rubbed at his forehead. He hadn’t said a thing to anyone—except for Lori. He’d emailed a few contacts over the past couple of months asking for some recommendations. The only way Penny could know any of that would be if she hacked into his email . . . which she could possibly do with his company account.
He stifled a groan. If Penny was hacking into his email, what else was she doing? Gripping his fingers together, he said, “I’ve been exploring the idea because eventually working twelve-hour days is going to take its toll on me. I don’t even remember the last time I took a vacation. Or even a full day off.”
Bronson’s forehead creased. “If this is about your work hours, we can hire someone to help you with the load.”
Malcom jabbed a finger at the spreadsheets. “It’s about taxes being misreported and money missing. And now I find out that Penny has been sharing information from my emails—so I don’t know what’s going on here. But I guess it’s time to tell you that I’m leaving the company. I’ll stay on as a freelance construction manager for the condo project because I want that job done well, and efficiently. Otherwise, I’ll have my lawyer draw up the contract cancellation, and you can figure out the rest of the stuff. Because I’m not going to be liable for what’s going on behind my back in the company.”
Malcom didn’t know he’d made all of these decisions until they came out of his mouth. He pushed to his feet and opened the office door.
Bronson shot to his feet as well. “You’re being ridiculous. You can’t just make accusations like this, then walk out on me. We built this company together.”
Malcom was already halfway down the hallway, heading toward the front door, when he heard, “Bronson, what’s going on?” from Kari.
As he opened the door, he heard Bronson tell her in a hushed voice, “Don’t say anything more until he’s gone. He already knows too much.”
Malcom’s ears burned, but he continued outside and hurried to his truck. He had some phone calls to make.