Chapter 49
Mitch finished his day with a grand total of thirty-seven hundred and twelve words. He’d had better days, but he’d had a lot worse, too. And most of those worse days had been in the last few years. Was he back in the writing groove? He wasn’t sure he was ready to go that far. But today certainly felt good.
He had Harper to thank. Funny that. The few good days he’d had recently could all be attributed to her in some way.
Arlington had been right about her. Not much of a surprise there. The man had a knack for finding the best things—and people—in life.
Mitch tapped the Save button on his Word doc and got up. He stretched, then took his empty coffee cup out to the kitchen and smiled.
Joyce was rubbing butter and herbs on a roasting chicken. Chunks of potatoes, onions, and carrots filled the pan around it. She didn’t look up from her work. “Afternoon.”
“Afternoon. How was your morning off?”
She smiled, giving him a quick look. “It was lovely, thank you. Had a long chat with my sister in England. Did some of my own chores. Took a walk on the beach. Read for a bit. Really lovely.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
She glanced toward the office, slightly hesitant. “How was your day?”
He smiled and stuck his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “It was good. Really good.”
“Well, that’s marvelous, innit? Good for you.” She washed her hands at the sink, then dried them on a towel. She turned to open the oven door and slid the roasting dish in. “Nothing fancy for dinner. Roast chicken and veg.”
“Joyce, that’s one of my favorite things you make.”
She closed the oven door and straightened. “Is it?”
“With that gravy you make from the pan juices?” He patted his stomach. “You’d better believe it. Jeanie loved it, too.”
She smiled, but tentatively. Like too much smiling might be somehow disrespectful.
He understood. He also knew the fact that she felt that way was his doing. “I know we don’t talk about her very much but it’s time for that to change. There are a lot of good memories. No reason they can’t still be a part of our lives.”
Joyce nodded. “I’m so pleased to hear you say that. I think about her often, but I never want to say anything because…” She straightened the dish towel on the counter.
“Because you think it’ll upset me.”
“A tad bit, yes.”
“Well, I don’t want you to worry about that anymore.”
She swallowed and, for a moment, Mitch thought she was going to shed a tear. Then she smiled. “She did love my roast chicken.”
He laughed. “Yes, she did.” So did Kyle. But that wasn’t a name he wanted to bring up. He might be working at getting more comfortable talking about Jeanie, but his son was still a sore point.
“Will Harper be here for dinner?”
“You know, that’s not a bad idea.” He’d written so much that he actually did have something to talk about with her. He sent her a text.
Fifteen minutes later, there was still no answer. He tried calling and it went straight to voicemail. That was odd. He went back into the kitchen. Joyce was cleaning up. “Have you talked to Harper today?”
“No. Something wrong?”
“I just can’t get ahold of her.”
Joyce looked up from the bowl she was washing. “You could go over there, you know. It’s only just next door.”
“I suppose I could.” That wasn’t something he’d usually do, but maybe getting out of his routine, which certainly hadn’t been helping him lately, was a smart move. He went to the bedroom and put shoes on, then headed out. “Back in a few.”
“All right,” Joyce answered.
He stood on his front porch a moment, just taking in the air and looking around his property. The little path between the two houses wasn’t quite as overgrown as it had been. He headed for it, noticing some of the plants and brush had been deliberately broken off. He took care of a few more that were in the way as he walked.
At Harper’s, he knocked on the door. It was answered shortly by a young woman he didn’t recognize. The woman he’d seen with Harper before he now knew was her sister, Frankie.
“Can I help you?”
“Is Harper here?” The muted sounds of conversation drifted down from the second floor.
“She is, but it’s not really a good time. Can I give her a message?”
He hadn’t realized she had company in. He felt foolish for interrupting. “Just tell her Mitch—no, never mind. I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” He stepped off the porch.
The door closed.
He was halfway to his house when Harper called out his name.
“Mitch? Wait.”
He turned, stopping in the middle of the overgrown path.
She ran toward him. She didn’t look like herself exactly. Her face was a little puffy, her eyes red. He knew that look all too well. She’d been crying. Concern filled him, but he let her speak first. “Listen, I know why you came by and I’m sorry. It’s almost all lies and if you’ll give me a chance, I’ll tell you the whole story. The absolute truth. I swear.”
He crossed his arms. “I came by to invite you for dinner, but now I want to hear more about this. What’s all lies?”
Her lips parted and her eyes filled with uncertainty. “You didn’t come to tell me you never wanted to see me again?”
His confusion grew. He dropped his arms to his sides. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Do you go on social media much?”
“Not if I can help it.” He had a person for that just so he didn’t have to. “In fact, unless I’m checking email or doing research, I generally avoid the internet like the plague. Why?”
She took a deep breath and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “I don’t even know where to start. Someone decided to ruin my life today online.”
His brows lifted. “What? Why would someone do that?”
“Because…” She shrugged. “Mostly I think I was just an easy target and maybe she felt threatened by me in some way.” Her eyes dampened and she turned away, sniffing. “Sorry. It’s been a really bad day.”
“I know about those.”
She exhaled a short laugh and smiled for a second, looking at him again. “Yeah, I guess you do. How was your day?”
“It was one of the best I’ve had in a long time. That’s part of what I was going to tell you about at dinner. I started the day by journalling.”
Her smile returned, much more genuine this time. “Hey, that’s fantastic. I’m so glad.”
“Me, too. I doubted you but you were right. It worked. I’ll be journalling again tomorrow morning.”
“That’s great. I’m happy for you.”
He took a step closer. “You want to talk about what’s going on with you?” He was bothered on her behalf, because whatever had happened, clearly it had upset her. And now that she’d helped him the way she had, he felt oddly protective of her. Like she was this valuable new resource he couldn’t afford to lose. And maybe even a friend.
“I do. I owe it to you to explain. I really don’t want you seeing what’s been said about me online. I’d hate for Joyce to see it, too, for that matter.” Harper blew out a breath. “This is such a mess.”
“Who did this to you? You said ‘she’ so it sounds like you know.”
She regained her composure. “I’m fairly certain it was a woman who lives here. Suzanne Collingsworth.”
Mitch rolled his eyes. If Suzanne was behind this, he already knew he was on Harper’s side. “I know of her, but I know her husband better. He’s been trying to get me to do an interview on the network’s morning show. I guess he thought appealing to me in person would do the trick. But that’s not who I am. Are you sure she did this?”
“She as much as told another neighbor that she had. Prisha Chatterjee. Do you know her?”
He nodded. “I do. Her husband’s a doctor. He was instrumental in getting Jeanie in to see the right people. Listen, I take it you have company at your house? Don’t worry about me or Joyce. We can wait. Go do what you need to do.”
“My niece is visiting. That’s who opened the door. Trust me, if she’d known who you were, she wouldn’t have let you leave.” Harper shook her head in amusement. “She loves your series on Netflix. I keep trying to get her to read the books, but she’s working on her doctorate and says she doesn’t have time to read for pleasure. Also, one of my sister’s friends came over to help me come up with a statement to release about this whole thing. Thanks for understanding. I honestly thought you’d never want to see me again.”
That sounded like a very bad idea for his career, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. Not yet anyway. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, you know where we are.”
“I do. Thanks. This means a lot to me.”
“No problem. Have a good night.”
“You, too. Tell Joyce I said hi, okay?”
“Will do.”
She turned to go, and he stood there, watching her for a second. He should have done more to comfort her, he realized, something to make her feel better. But that had never been his skillset.
Then something else struck him. She was working on a statement. And that was his skillset. “Hey.”
She turned. “Yes?”
“You’re going to release a statement?”
She nodded. “I need to do something.”
He took a few steps toward her property. “I agree. Do you want some more help with that?” He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m pretty good at putting words together.”
She grinned. “Yes, you are. Maybe we should include Joyce, too. Better than feeling left out, don’t you think?”
He backstepped toward his house. Even when she was down, Harper thought about others. He needed to be more like that. “I’ll get her and be right there.”