Chapter 15 – Lee
Plotting a romantic gesture when you lived with someone and lacked mobility added extra difficulty, but I didn’t let that stop me.
It took a few days, but I wrangled Drew into helping, since it was his slow season at the salt farm.
With him as my driver, I stopped in at Buds ‘n Blooms, then the consignment boutique.
“You really feel that guilty?” Drew slipped me an amused glance from the driver’s seat. Like he couldn’t believe I was so far gone.
“At the time, did I feel that way? No. But now? Yes.” I scrunched my nose. “We were pretty awful.”
Drew shrugged. “We didn’t do anything Gran wouldn’t do.”
“Low bar.”
“Hell, we didn’t do anything Gran didn’t help with.”
“Again, the bar is in Hell. I don’t think we can use your grandmother as the arbiter of good sense or good taste.”
“But she sure is fun,” Drew said with an unrepentant grin. “Are you sure this is really about the past? High school was a long time ago.”
I stared at my hands, catching myself mid-knuckle-pop.
“We hurt her, Drew… I hurt her. Telling myself it was for her own good worked then. But now?” I blew out a heavy breath, wishing I could let the guilt go as easily.
The urge to crack my knuckles cramped my hands – old habit, old cowardice.
I laced my fingers together instead. “I need to show her I’m sorry. ”
Drew cleared his throat, drawing my gaze. “I’ll ask again: is this about the past – or the future?”
“With Violet, it’s always going to be about both. She’s an important part of my past, but also all I see in my future. If she’ll have me.”
A quiet grunt was the only commentary Drew added. Maybe he sensed that I’d already said more than enough for the day.
“Thanks for helping me out today.” I slipped from the truck cab, careful not to put too much weight on my bad foot.
“You’re welcome. Be sure to tell Vi I helped. Maybe she’ll finally forgive me too.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
He chuckled, waving, before pulling away in his truck.
I hobbled into the house. All the moving around had left me achy, but at least it was progress. And I’d suffer that and more if it meant Vi forgave me.
My office welcomed me — messy, just the way I liked it. Quiet and calm. It was my sanctuary. The place I could think and create. It took me a solid five minutes to realize what was missing: my laptop.
Frantically, I glanced around, shuffling stacks of paperwork on my desk.
Shifting empty mugs and glasses, searching for the sticker-covered computer.
I thought I’d left it on the coffee table, but maybe Vi moved it to my desk?
Nothing but a few scribbled-in notebooks.
The front door was locked when I arrived home. There were no signs of forced entry.
My writer-brain activated. Had someone been in my house? A crazed fan, overeager to read my next book, maybe? While I didn’t keep my location in the San Juans a secret, I didn’t advertise it either. The likelihood of someone being that obsessed was slim. But people were weird.
I dialed Violet, waiting impatiently as her phone rang once. Twice.
“Lee. Two phone calls within weeks? Is the world ending? Are you okay?”
Her voice was husky, resonating with a rich softness that reminded me of a cozy blanket. It wasn’t concern, not exactly, but I couldn’t quite name her tone.
“I’m okay, but my laptop’s missing.” It came out more brusquely than I intended, but the low clutch of panic was making it difficult to draw a complete breath.
While I backed up my work, someone could still make an unholy mess of my documents if they were malicious or motivated enough.
My current draft represented months of work.
I couldn’t afford to lose that progress if I wanted to make my editorial deadline.
A bead of sweat trickled between my shoulder blades. “Have you seen it?”
“Not recently. I’ve been at the shop all day. You left before me this morning. You didn’t take it with you?”
“No. I had errands to run with Drew. I left it in my office.”
“Weird. I’m sure it will turn up. Did you check What’s New, Friday Harbor yet? Everyone on island is pretty good about posting lost and found items.”
Something about her calmness tickled at the back of my brain. Like I’d missed a clue.
“No, not yet. That’s a good idea though, thanks.” I frowned, examining the windows downstairs before shuffling back to the front door. “Was the laptop at the house this morning when you left? Were you able to lock up okay?”
“As far as I know,” she said.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair.
The laptop itself wasn’t worth much, but I’d lose days waiting for a replacement to arrive.
We didn’t have an electronics store on island.
And I was in no shape to take the ferry to Anacortes without help.
Taking one of my friends off-island for a day of shopping was one favor too many.
“I might have to call Sheriff Walker.”
“I really think you should check WNFH first,” Vi cautioned.
Her insistence finally clicked. Maybe it was my overactive writer-brain at work again, but I paused. “Do you know more than you’re telling me, Violet?”
She chuckled, low and resonant, but it sounded forced. “More than you could possibly fathom, Murphy. Check for posts. I’m sure your laptop will turn up soon.”
The urge to pace the living room, to tear my hair out, was nearly overwhelming. I hated that my ankle put it out of my reach. Instead, I flopped on the couch, pulling up the WNFH page on my phone. Vi sounded entirely too smug at the end of our conversation.
The first post griping about a new construction project the county was funding didn’t interest me, but the second post featured a picture of a very familiar laptop from an anonymous poster.
Quickly, I scanned the caption. Look what turned up: one missing laptop.
To get it back, I’ll need a glamor shot of the owner dressed like their high school yearbook photo.
Extra points for bad hair and a letterman jacket.
The whole thing smacked of a dare. Of revenge.
A slow grin spread across my face. If this is what Violet needed to move on, I’d give it to her. In spades. But if Vi was the culprit, I’d need a helper of my own to meet the laptop-napper’s demands. I couldn’t exactly ask her to dig through my closet.
Lee: Can one of you give me an assist?
Drew: I’m tied up.
Zach: I’ve got you. I can be there around 3.
Lee: Thanks.
Zach let himself in. Violet was still at the shop, giving me another hour or two to come through on the dare before she got home.
“Hey. How’s the leg?” Zach propped himself against the door to my office.
“So-so. I’m trying to stay off the stairs, so I need a hand digging some stuff out of my closet.”
Zach raised a brow. “Need me to dispose of your porn stash before my sister sees it?”
I chuckled. “No. I need you to find my letterman jacket and a baseball cap.”
Zach held up his hands. “I don’t want to know what kind of kinky role play you’re into.”
That angle hadn’t even occurred to me. But maybe it’d get my laptop back faster – and if it did, well, that was just a bonus.
Violet had missed out on a lot of high school experiences thanks to me and her brothers.
I’d already set my plan into motion to make up for that with more adult memories to rewrite the past, but I’d been thinking too small.
“Relax. It’s just for a dare. You haven’t seen What’s New, Friday Harbor today?”
“No. Too busy at Harbor Brews. What’s the drama this time?”
I hid a smile. “Someone stole my laptop and is ransoming it back to me with dares.”
“Who’d you piss off?”
“Guess.”
Zach frowned. “Now I’m not sure I should help you. Family loyalty and all. What exactly did you do?”
“Help you, so I’m going to say you owe me.”
“This is about high school?” Zach asked.
“Your sister holds a mean grudge.” I shrugged. “But it’s one of the things I like about her.”
Zach rubbed the back of his neck. “She was pretty good about immediate payback. Every time Drew and I see Jello shots, we have the vomit reflex to prove it. Our dear sister did not pull her punches when dosing us with Ipecac.” He shuddered.
“Even pistachio ambrosia salads turn my stomach. Improbably green foods will be forever enshrined in my memory and associated with hurling my guts out.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t know I was involved back then.”
“Ooh…” Zach drew the word out, contorting his expression into a wince that clearly communicated he wouldn’t want to be in my shoes. Or boot.
“Yeah.” I kept my tone wry. “So, my jacket?”
He sketched a salute. “Got it. Where in your closet am I going to find it?”
“Beneath the box labeled, ‘Definitely Not Porn.’”
“I’m on it.”