Chapter 41
“In you go,” Harper said. Archie trotted through the door ahead of her. She’d been planning to start coffee but as she came back from letting him go potty, she could smell some brewing. That was such a good thing to find this early in the morning.
Frankie was in the kitchen getting a cup of that coffee. Her laptop, tablet, and fancy electronic pen were on the counter.
“Morning,” Harper said. “It’s so nice to have the coffee already going. Thanks for doing that.”
“No problem,” Frankie said. “I’m used to getting up early, although I’ve been trying to sleep in while I was here. Apparently not this morning, though. Figured I might as well make myself useful. How’d you sleep?”
“Good. You?”
Frankie nodded. “Good.”
Archie drank from his bowl, slurping noisily. Harper got a scoop of kibble for him and added it to the other bowl. He went to work on breakfast right away.
“So,” Frankie started. “I talked to Willa last night. She’s struggling a bit. Just burned out, I think, from so much work and school and never getting a break.” She made an odd face. “I did something, and I hope you’ll be okay with it.”
Harper took her phone out of her back pocket, set it on the counter and took a seat at the breakfast bar, instantly curious and slightly trepidatious. After all, Frankie had contacted their birth mother without Harper knowing about it. She gave her sister her full attention. “What did you do?”
Frankie inhaled a deep breath, letting it out again before she answered. “I invited her here for a week. I hope that was okay. I know I should have asked you first, but it was late, and she was on the verge of tears, and I didn’t know what else to do. I’m sorry.”
Harper immediately shook her head. “Oh, my gosh, don’t be sorry. It’ll be great to have her here. I haven’t seen her in ages. I’m glad you invited her.”
“You are?”
“Absolutely.”
Frankie slumped like a weight had come off her shoulders. “Okay, good. Thank you. You’re a good sister. And a fabulous aunt.”
“Is she going to meet our birth mother, too?”
Frankie’s mouth opened but nothing came out for a second. “I…I didn’t think about that. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not until you and I have met her and figured out what the next step is.”
“If there is a next step,” Harper added. She had serious reservations about this meeting. “How’s that going, by the way?”
“I need to find a neutral place for us to meet, but Shar’s very interested.”
Harper pulled her hair back and twisted it up, securing it with the elastic around her wrist. “I’m sure she is.”
“Listen, I’m not going to say anything to her about this place. It’s none of her business. I understand that we need to protect ourselves until we know her story and what kind of person she is.”
Harper nodded. “Good. That’s smart. I don’t want her knowing too much about me until I know who she is.” Her phone vibrated, still on that setting from last night.
She flipped it over and took a look. A message had come in from Joyce.
Can you come up with an excuse to come over here? Mitch is in a bad way. Nightmare about Jeanie and he’s in a funk again. I’m worried about him. I think talking to you would help. If you could. I’ll bake you some more muffins.
Harper smiled at the last sentence, but then her empathy kicked in and she felt for Mitch. She thought a moment, then responded. As it happens, I’m all out of coffee. Maybe I could come over and borrow some?
Don’t ring the bell. I’ll be waiting at the front door.
Give me 10 mins.
Thank you.
Harper grabbed her phone and hopped out of the seat. “I have to go.”
“No beach?”
“Not today. Mitch needs me. Not sure when I’ll be back. You okay by yourself?”
“I have a ton of work to do,” Frankie answered. “I’ll be fine. Want me to walk Archie later?”
“If you feel like it, that would be great. Thanks.” Harper ran to the bathroom. She took a super quick shower, barely letting the water heat up. She dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, brushed her hair into a high ponytail, dabbed on a tiny bit of concealer to make herself look more awake, flicked on some mascara and tinted gloss, then stepped back.
Ten minutes wasn’t a lot of time to get ready. She dabbed on the tiniest bit of perfume. As much as she wanted coffee, she could have some at Mitch’s.
If he let her stay. If he was back to his old self, he might not. He might tell her to leave. She prepared herself for that.
Archie had come into the bedroom to see what she was doing. She bent and kissed his fluffy head. “Be a good boy for Aunt Frankie, okay, baby dog? Mama will be back.”
Frankie was working on the couch, a cup of coffee nearby. “See you when you get back. Text me if you need me for anything.”
“Thanks,” Harper said. She went downstairs and outside into the sun. It was another beautiful day. A few puffy clouds dotted the blue sky, but it was still picture-perfect to her. She took the path to Mitch’s.
True to her word, Joyce was at the front door. She shook her head as Harper approached. “He’s in his office. Didn’t want to eat breakfast or anything. I’m worried about him. I thought he’d turned a corner, bless his heart.”
Harper glanced toward the upstairs. “Do you think I should invent a reason to talk to him? How else will I get to see him?”
“I don’t know. Maybe that would be the thing to do.” She looked so worried. “I’ll leave it with you, shall I?”
“Yes,” Harper said. “I only have one request.”
“Anything, pet.”
“Could I get a cup of coffee? I haven’t had one yet.”
“You come right upstairs this instant and I’ll fix you one. Do you want me to tell him you’re here?”
“No, just let me have that cup of coffee and I’ll knock on his door.” Harper prayed she didn’t make things worse. But he had signed an NDA and asked her to work for him. Whether he liked it or not, this was part of the service. Even if he hadn’t signed up for it.
She wasn’t about to let one of the nation’s most entertaining storytellers disappear into the murky depths of grief. It was hard, she understood that. But it was easier when you weren’t alone. That much she could do for him.
They went upstairs, neither of them saying a thing. Joyce poured her a cup of coffee, putting out sugar and cream after she’d handed the cup over.
Harper fixed the cup the way she liked it, took a quick sip, then nodded at Joyce.
Joyce nodded back and whispered, “You know the way?” She pointed toward the door, too.
Harper nodded and whispered back, “Wish me luck.” She had a feeling she was going to need it.
She went to the door, found her courage, and knocked. “Mitch? It’s me. Harper. I hope you don’t mind, but I had a great idea for the book, and I wanted to talk to you about it.”
There was no response. No noise, either. She waited a few more moments before calling out again. “Mitch? You there?”
The door opened a crack. Not enough for her to see in or see him. “We can talk about it later. Today’s not a good day.”
The door closed.
Harper swallowed and dove in. She wasn’t going to get a second chance. “Grief is like that, isn’t it? You think you’re making progress and then, bam, you’re not. You’re right back in the deep end and swimming feels like so much work. Maybe…too much work.”
One second ticked by. Then another. Then the door opened, slightly wider than the first time. “I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do but it won’t help.”
“Okay, maybe it won’t. Would you like company anyway? We don’t have to talk at all.”
She could hear him sigh. To her mind, it sounded like he was looking for another way to say no.
The door opened a little further. Mitch was in a rumpled T-shirt and loose drawstring pants, barefoot, unshaven, hair uncombed. The dark circles under his eyes completed the picture. He hadn’t slept much, if at all. “There’s nothing you can do for me.”
She nodded. “You’re right. There isn’t.”
His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Isn’t that why you’re here? To talk me out of this?”
“No. I’m here just to be here. For you. No one can talk you out of grief. I know some things you can do for yourself that might help, but you have to go through the process. Do you want to go through it? Or do you really want to be left alone?”
If he didn’t want help, there wasn’t much she could do. She couldn’t force him to try any of the techniques she knew of.
He stared at her, then said in a soft, ragged voice, “I want to be alone. But I also don’t.” He shook his head. “I’m not good company right now.”
“I’m all right with that.”
Another moment of hesitation and he opened the door. His office matched the rest of the house with its cabin-in-the-woods kind of feel. It was bigger than the office at her house and, unlike that one, it had views of the water.
She stepped inside. A dark blue leather sofa took up one wall. It had small tables on either end that each held a lamp, and a long ottoman upholstered in tapestry fabric in front of it. “Okay if I sit on the couch?”
He nodded and closed the door behind her. Then he seemed to have a second thought about that and cracked it slightly. He moved toward the desk awkwardly, like he was going to sit there, then picked up his coffee and joined her on the other end of the couch.
He cleared his throat. “So, how do we do this?”
“We don’t have to do anything. Or you can tell me whatever you’d like me to know. Talk or not, it’s up to you.”
She was happy to sit there in silence for however long he needed. But she was happy to listen, too.
He swallowed some of his coffee. Rubbed the stubble on his face. Stared toward the windows. Sighed. Looked like he might ask her to leave.
Then, finally, he started talking.