Chapter 33
Harper texted Mimi to say what a great show it had been, how amazing she’d looked, and what a terrific job she’d done. Maybe that would be enough, and they wouldn’t need to do a Zoom call, but Mimi needed a lot of reassurance.
It was all right if she wanted to talk further. It was billable hours and Harper had nothing else going on anyway.
She turned off the television but stayed seated on the couch. It was weird to have Archie gone. He rarely made noise, but the house still felt oddly quiet. It was like she could feel he wasn’t there.
Maybe she should take a shower. She got up, intending to do just that, when a small tumbleweed of Archie fur drifted across the floor. The house could use a little tidying up. Might as well do that before she showered, because cleaning was going to make her sweaty.
Not that she intended to do a big clean. She was just going to sweep the floors and wipe down counters. That would be enough for a few days.
She found a broom, a steam mop, a vacuum, and some other cleaning supplies in a closet on the first floor. She brought the broom and a dustpan upstairs. The steam mop was intriguing, but she’d never used one and wasn’t about to research how to use it now.
She started in the bedroom, sweeping her way out. The living room and kitchen came after that. She had a pretty good pile going by then. She did the office, too, because why not? She used the broom to get all the dog hair and other debris into the dustpan, then dumped it in the trash.
The place already looked better.
Counters were next. They weren’t bad. Neither she nor Frankie were messy people. Archie’s eating area needed a little touch up. He wasn’t quite as neat and tidy. He tended to get water all over the floor when he drank.
At home, she had a rubber mat that went under his food and water bowls to help contain the mess. She could have used one of those here. She’d have to get one if she—
She straightened. Had she really been about to think that she might stay? How odd. Did some part of her believe that was possible? Because it wasn’t. She had no work out here. No way to make money.
Clients weren’t going to be happy with Zoom calls on a permanent basis. At some point, she’d have to go back to California.
A thought that, for some reason, didn’t fill her with any substantial anticipation. Did she subconsciously not want to go back? Was she avoiding Ford? She didn’t think that was it. He was out of her life and while she might run into him again someday, if she didn’t want to see him, she wouldn’t have to.
So what was it?
Sure, this place was amazing. It was so much better than where she lived now that it would have been pointless to compare. Incredible view, amazing backyard, a pool, a golf cart, tons of space, more amenities, better furnished, nicer…everything. And Hideaway Bay was pretty sweet, too.
But it all came down to where she earned her living. And how, she supposed. No one here needed a professional confidante. Even if they did have buckets of money. They just weren’t those kinds of people.
With a sigh, she finished up her cleaning, put the broom and dustpan away, then went to the bedroom and turned the water on in the shower. She’d been right about sweating. Her back was damp from the work.
The shower was quick. She didn’t think Frankie and Archie would be gone much longer and she wanted to hear all about Lucas.
She slipped into a fresh pair of leggings, a clean tank top, then took her laundry to the laundry room and started a load of colors. With the house cleaned up, and a load of laundry started, she felt pretty accomplished.
On a roll, she took shrimp out of the freezer and put it in the refrigerator to defrost. She wasn’t sure what she’d do with it yet for dinner, but she’d come up with something. Maybe just sauté it in some butter, garlic, and white wine, then serve it over angel hair pasta.
That sounded pretty good, actually.
Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten anything yet. She was hungry, too. So much for all she’d eaten last night.
She decided on something quick. Maybe another of Joyce’s muffins? But then she thought toast with almond butter and a drizzle of honey felt like just the thing with another cup of coffee. She got out the bread and the almond butter, then realized she hadn’t bought honey. Well, there went that idea. Would it be all right to run next door and ask Joyce for some?
Or was that just an excuse to see Mitch again? Not that she needed or wanted to see him. But it had been all right talking to him yesterday. And he’d been nice this morning. She felt for the guy now, something she hadn’t expected. But grief had that effect on her. It brought out her inner empath.
It was so very hard to get through the mourning process. Some never did. Losing Arlington had felt like losing her father all over again.
One of her clients had nearly dropped out of acting after his wife had been killed in a freak snowboarding accident.
Harper’s heart had broken for him on a daily basis, seeing how difficult it had been for him. That kind of despair could destroy a person. She’d done a whole lot more listening than talking in that case. She’d learned pretty early on that people who were grieving didn’t expect anyone to fix them or make things better. They just wanted someone to listen to them. And often, they just didn’t want to be alone.
Not always an easy thing to do to just be there. You had to be comfortable with silence. With just being. She hadn’t always been that way. She was now, but it had taken work and the insight that when she was in that situation, it wasn’t about her. At all. It was about the person who was hurting.
That understanding had taken her a long way. It had helped her create her business. What most people wanted was to be heard. Celebrity or civilian, people wanted to know someone was listening in a meaningful way.
Harper could do that.
Too bad she couldn’t do it here.
She went back to the bedroom and into the bathroom. She brushed her hair, then secured it in a high ponytail. It was a good look for her, because it tightened up her face a bit. Age was no joke.
A little concealer, a swipe of dark brown eyeliner, mascara, a hint of blush, a slick of pink gloss and she was out the door. She took the path through the trees, breaking off a few of the more bothersome branches that encroached on it as she went.
She knocked on the front door.
Joyce answered. She smiled. “Did you get the basket already?”
“What basket?”
Joyce quickly shook her head. “Never you mind, I don’t know what I was saying. What can I do for you, pet?”
“Any chance I could borrow some honey? I forgot to get some at the store.”
“Sure you can. Come on in.”
Harper followed Joyce in, and they went up the steps together. “Those apple cinnamon muffins were to die for, by the way.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed them.” Joyce went into the kitchen and right to a cabinet over the coffee maker. She took out a small squeeze bottle of honey, about half full, but there was a brand-new bottle behind it. “Here you go. You can have it.”
“Thank you.” Harper took the bottle, expecting it to be sticky, but it wasn’t. Nothing escaped Joyce’s watch, it seemed. “I saw Mitch on the deck this morning, having his coffee. He waved at me.”
Joyce smiled. “He’s been in quite a mood since you came to visit yesterday.” She leaned in and lowered her voice. “Quite a good mood. And busy writing. In his office.” She pointed toward the hall that led off the kitchen.
“I’m glad to hear that.” Harper glanced toward the office. “I’m eagerly awaiting his next book, just like everyone else.”
“Maybe you’ll get an advance copy,” Joyce suggested.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Harper lifted the bottle of honey. “Thanks for this. Now I can have breakfast. Toast with almond butter and honey. One of my favorite easy things to make.”
“You haven’t eaten? Let me make you something.”
“No, no, I’m fine. We had a huge meal last night, so I’m eating late on purpose. Thank you, though. I should let you get back to your work anyway.”
Mitch emerged from the hall, coffee cup in hand. “Harper.”
“Hi. I was just going. I came over to borrow some honey.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you stay for a minute and have a cup of coffee?”
That wasn’t what she’d come over for, but now that he’d offered... “Okay, sure.”
Joyce snagged a mug from a different cabinet and filled it quickly, like she thought Harper might change her mind. “There you are. What do you take in it?”
“Cream or milk, whatever you have. And sugar would be fine, since I know you don’t have any stevia.” She wasn’t in the mood for black coffee today.
“Stevia?” Joyce shook her head as she got out a sugar bowl and spoon, then a pint of heavy cream from the refrigerator. “None of that here, sorry, love.”
“It’s all right.” Harper added a splash of cream, which Mitch must have not realized they had, and a good teaspoon of sugar. A little wouldn’t hurt. She stirred the coffee, then slipped the spoon into the sink.
“We can sit on the deck if you like,” Mitch said.
“Okay.”
A few moments later, they were seated there, him in a side chair, her on the couch. It was a little awkward. Noise from the kitchen filtered through. Probably Joyce baking something. Mitch seemed to want to talk but also like he didn’t know where to start. She got the impression he wasn’t used to making small-talk. Or conversation in general.
“How’s the book coming?” She sipped the coffee. It was delicious. Definitely better than what she’d been drinking. She needed to ask Joyce what brand she bought.
“Good.” He nodded. “Really good, actually. I owe you for the help.”
“I didn’t help.”
“You did,” he said. “You said something that triggered an idea and that idea snowballed and…” He shook his head as if he was mystified by what had occurred. “You helped.”
“Well, I’m glad to be of service.”
He glanced up, his gaze pinning her. “Would you mind if I ran a few ideas by you?”
Her stomach growled softly. She could eat later. “Not at all.”
Joyce suddenly appeared with the coffee pot in one hand and a plate in the other. “Anyone for more coffee?”
Harper shook her head. “I’m good.”
Mitch held his cup out.
Joyce set the plate in front of Harper. Toast with almond butter and honey. Joyce refilled Mitch’s cup and left, saying over her shoulder, “Give me a shout if you need anything.”
Harper smiled. “She’s good, isn’t she?”
Mitch’s expression was something between a grimace and a smile. “Too good, sometimes.”
Harper snorted softly.
He put his cup on the table and rested his elbows on his knees, inching toward the edge of his seat. “What would you think about Charlie Nightingale being in league with the mayor’s son while working for the ogre king at the same time?”
Harper sucked in a breath. “Now that’s interesting. When you say ‘in league with,’ are we talking alliance or romance?”
“I don’t know. Maybe…a little of both? What do you think?”
Mitchell Ripley was asking her questions about his books. Harper grinned. “I think readers have been waiting for Charlie to have a man in her life. Let’s talk about this some more.”