Elsie
Chapter Twenty-Four
It was official.
Somewhere along the night at the café with Will, I’d written the transition from Ellie and Hugh’s rivalry into a solid and real friendship.
Curse those café twinkle lights casting a sentimental glow over my heart.
But, of course, I kept the heart of their relationship intact—a constant exchange of witty banter coupled with a generous supply of dry one-liners, usually from Hugh.
Because that was the most exciting part to read about anyway, whether they were fighting or just engaging in some healthy bickering.
I didn’t know where the story was going anymore, but that was half the fun of it.
By the time I finished my morning writing sprint, my hands were covered with pen ink and my stomach was grumbling loud enough to shake the precarious foundation of the house.
“Food,” I muttered, scrounging through the bare cupboards. “I need real food. Not crackers. Or instant noodles.”
Admitting defeat, I wrapped a scarf around my neck and slipped my jacket on, preparing for an extremely overdue visit to the grocery store.
Pulling my hair free and throwing it over my jacket, I frowned at the kitchen door, wondering if the noise I was hearing was real or imagined.
I stilled, listening intently. I wasn’t scared of town murderers anymore, but there was no saying what other type of laborers Will would have coming to the house at any given time.
I heard it again. A sort of scratching, like someone—or something—was trying to get in.
“Hello?” I pulled the door open tentatively, staring down at the furry guest.
The orange tabby offered a meow, and I crouched to its level, offering it a scratch on the head.
“You again,” I greeted, remembering him from when I first moved in.
It rubbed up against my leg, desperate for more.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, thinking it rude to not offer something for my guest.
I opened the cabinet again, pulling out a can of tuna that had been there since before I moved in. Double checking for an expiration date, I peeled open the can and placed it on the ground in front of the cat.
He sniffed it, took a lick, and turned, rejecting my offering with quiet disdain.
“Geez,” I muttered. “Kind of a snobby cat.”
It stuck its tail up proudly before sauntering off into another room.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “I’ll get you cat food while I’m out.”
I grabbed my purse, wondering at the likelihood of the cat peeing in the house while I was gone.
“Even though fish is cat food.” I left the door cracked behind me, hoping it had the sense to do its business elsewhere other than on my carpet.
“Unless every cartoon I’ve ever watched lied to me,” I added as a final musing before setting off.
I felt like I was being watched.
It sounded a little narcissistic because, I mean, why would anyone be watching me grocery shop?
I wasn’t a movie star. I wasn’t a celebrity. I wasn’t even a published author yet.
But still, I had that uncanny feeling that there were eyes on me.
I reached forward for the butter, spinning at the last possible moment to look over my shoulder, just as two older women snapped their heads in the opposite direction at breakneck speed.
Yeah, I was definitely being watched.
The question was: why?
I looked down at myself, because I had been known occasionally to run out in pajama pants and slippers.
Not today, though. I was relieved to see that I was dressed in a perfectly acceptable pair of jeans and an earthy green sweater that an old man had once told me brought out my eyes—a compliment that might’ve made the item a staple in my wardrobe ever since.
However, I highly doubt everyone in the grocery store was that captivated by my green eyes to warrant the stares and whispers, so I could only assume it was something else.
“Um, hi!” I waved when I caught the next person watching me from behind the bread display.
You would’ve thought I was a zoo exhibit they hadn’t imagined had the capacity for language, what with the way they gaped at me.
Either that, or they expected me to go along pretending I didn’t notice that nearly everyone in the store was watching me.
But then, I had always been one to challenge the expectations people set for me.
When no one responded, and instead busied themselves with pretending to finish their shopping, I made my way to the checkout.
Setting the basket down, I pulled out the few measly food items I procured, the bag of cat food and all the necessary litter items and box a cat might need to relieve themselves, in case my guest happened to be a frequent visitor.
I hoped I wasn’t on track to becoming a cat lady, but I had to admit, it got lonely at the house. I wouldn’t mind someone to come home to every night.
As long as he didn’t have fleas, I scrunched up my nose at the thought, hoping that he wasn’t already laying on my bed with whatever outdoor germs he likely carried.
“So, you’re the new girl, huh?” The cashier blew a bubble.
Otherwise bored with her task of ringing up my items, she looked mildly interested in giving me the once over.
“Uh, yeah. I am.” I tried to smile.
“I take it you’re liking it pretty well?” She smiled knowingly, though I wasn’t in on whatever secret she acted like existed between us.
“It’s fine,” I said. “I haven’t met too many people. I’ve been housebound mostly, working on—” I wanted to say my writing, but thought it sounded pretentious.
I mean, what would I even say if they asked any follow-up questions?
What do you write? A novel based on the tragic misfortunes of my life.
Written anything I’ve heard of? No.
Have you published anything at all? Not yet.
Gosh, I needed to get it together. I could not leave this town without finishing what I’d set out to do. This would not be yet another project I left half finished.
Out of everything in my life, this was the one thing in my control, and damn it, I had to see it through, even if it never lead to anything greater.
But the cashier didn’t mind my half complete sentence because she was already continuing the conversation.
“Huh, not the way I heard it.” She shrugged, as if maybe she’d gotten it wrong.
“What way did you hear it?”
“I hear you’ve been seeing Will Hughes.”
“Seeing him?” I asked, eyes widening. “As in…seeing him, seeing him?”
Her face scrunched up in confusion. “I think so?”
“Ha!” I let out a boisterous laugh. “Absolutely not. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. He hates me! Well, not anymore. But he did for a while. Now, we’re just reluctant allies of sorts.”
“Reluctant allies?” Her confusion reached new heights. “What, like you play D&D together or something?”
“No!” I hurried to clarify, but she cut me off.
“I mean, I guess that would be a better explanation for why you guys spent the night together at the café. Everyone thought you two were seeing each other, but I said to them, why would they sleep in the café instead of Will’s house?
I mean, clearly Will’s no Romeo, but the café is hardly the place a man would take a woman for a romantic night out—”
“Wait, what!” I nearly yelled in her face. “Everyone knows about that?”
“Pretty much everyone.” She nodded her agreement, “$36.43, by the way, whenever you’re ready.”
I fumbled for my debit card, brain numbed completely by the turn of events occurring in real time.
“Is that why everyone’s staring at me?” I asked her, dumbfounded.
“Probably.” She shrugged. “Will hasn’t had a girlfriend in years. I guess everyone’s curious about what made you finally turn his head.”
“What, is he, like, some big eligible bachelor of the town?” I snorted, finding the whole situation more absurd than I could imagine even Colbridge capable of.
“I only meant that he’s had plenty of girls interested, and it never seemed to matter before now.”
I turned behind me, checking to make sure I wasn’t holding up any lines, but to my surprise, everyone was acutely tuned into the conversation I was having with—I squinted at the nametag—Hazel with the pink and black hair.
“Well, Hazel,” I said before turning in all directions around the store, cupping my hands around my mouth, “and everyone else listening! Will Hughes and I are not seeing each other. So, if you’d be so kind as to let all the many women lined up for him know that I haven’t snatched him away from them, I’d be ever so grateful. ”
“Ask her why she was driving in his car, then!” an old lady whispered in the loudest of volumes to Hazel, despite the fact that I could hear her perfectly well.
“He was giving me a ride home from babysitting last night!” I told the woman.
She frowned as if she hadn’t expected me to answer her directly.
“Not last night,” another woman added. “It was that morning that Will didn’t come into the café. The two of you were gone all morning and the better half of the afternoon.”
A chorus of agreement alerted me to the fact that not only was this something they’d all been aware of, but had apparently discussed. At great length, if I had to guess.
“I’m extremely unsettled that you’ve all been keeping such close track of my whereabouts,” I muttered. “But, once again, he was giving me a ride.”
“Awful friendly of him, don’t you think?” The old lady turned to her friend with a gleam in her wrinkled eyes.
“Oh, God,” I groaned, taking my bags and shoving my debit card back into my jeans pocket.
“Well, this has been fun, but maybe next time you guys can do a better job of pretending you aren’t stalking me, and I’ll do a better job of pretending I don’t notice, and we can save us all from this incredibly awkward encounter. Okay? Okay, great.”
Before I could hear any more rumors about myself circulating in a town I’d only just arrived in, I ran for the exit.
Here I thought I’d be deemed the town weirdo, not the town hussy who stole away Will Hughes from under them.
Why the hell did everything in this town have something to do with that man?