Chapter Thirty-One
A tense silence fell over them, broken only by Florian’s truck roaring down the driveway, tires spitting gravel.
Cartier placed a protective hand on Adalynn’s shoulder.
Bednarek, who’d not said a word since his arrival, looked distinctly uncomfortable at the edge of the crowd.
Even Sylvania Holland’s usually serene expression had turned solemn.
It was Kinley who spoke first. “That guy’s a real asshole.
Good riddance, if you ask me.” He turned to Meredith, and his voice was gruffer than usual when he said, “If he can’t see what a great little brother he’s got, that’s his loss.
” With that declaration, he hastened to occupy himself lighting a cigarette, and then, with the air of remembering his manners, he offered the pack to Adalynn.
She shook her head, gazing down the lane as though Florian’s presence still lingered. “I had no idea,” she said. “Not the first clue. He’d never so much as raised his voice at me until today, but…” She trailed off and shook her head again. “I’m sorry. And thank you both.”
“No,” said Meredith, “it’s me who should be sorry.” He hesitated, then addressed her father. “And, Cartier—if you hold it against us for not saying anything before, I don’t blame you, but please don’t take it out on David. He’s not responsible for Florian.”
That had been the last thing on David’s mind, but now he braced himself for the inevitable fallout.
He’d made an impression on Cartier, all right, and was about to be dismissed by him personally—either for having broken up his daughter’s impending marriage, which he wasn’t sorry for, or for not having done so sooner, which he was.
Somehow he found that it didn’t matter to him now nearly as much as it had a month ago—now that he had his priorities in order.
But what Cartier said was “Neither are you.” In response to their evident astonishment, he continued, “Perhaps it comes as a surprise, but I myself know well enough how difficult and complicated these things can be. All the same, I’m grateful for you speaking up when you did, and I’m sure my daughter will be, too, once she gets over the shock.
By the way, David,” he added, “I realize this isn’t the time, but you and I do need to have a chat this week. ”
So that was it, then. David nodded. “I understand,” he said, at the same time Meredith protested, “But you just said—!”
Cartier recoiled as though shocked by the very notion. “Oh, no, you misunderstand me. I have no intention of letting you go, not when I’m going to need sensible, reliable people like you on my team. Especially now that there are some major changes coming to the Corner Store.”
“Changes?” repeated David, still trying to make sense of it all. He wasn’t being fired. Cartier thought he was sensible and reliable. It was gratifying, to be sure, but again, hardly the matter of grave import he’d previously imagined.
Cartier glanced around. Adalynn had now been drawn into conversation with Sylvania and Mrs. Jupiter, and Kinley was talking to—or, rather, talking at Bednarek, undoubtedly giving voice to some of his stronger opinions on landlords.
Satisfied that the conversation was private, Cartier said, “Well, it’ll be public news in a few days anyway.
Steve Corner is out. I can’t say I was impressed with what I saw last night, and it turns out Mr. Pangolin had a number of similar concerns, with quite the paper trail to back them up.
It was a pretty lengthy list, all told. But,” he said, giving David an amiable clap on the shoulder, “we’ll talk more about that later.
I imagine you and your partner have some things to discuss now, as do Adalynn and I. ”
“Mr. Cartier!” called Mrs. Jupiter.
He turned. “Ma’am?”
“Mrs. Holland and I are retiring to my cottage for a cup of tea, if I might take the liberty of inviting you and your daughter along? You’ve both had quite the stressful morning, and I daresay a nice calming tisane would do you both some good.”
“Well, I—” Cartier looked to Adalynn, then to Mrs. Jupiter, adorned with her usual variety of amulets and crystals, and nodded. “I expect you know best.”
“And you, too,” Mrs. Jupiter told Kinley as the Cartiers followed Sylvania down the path.
He balked at the invitation. “You want me to come to tea with—with that—” David knew with certainty that he was on the verge of saying capitalist pig, but Mrs. Jupiter interrupted.
“With the business and community leader who I’m sure is eager to hear more from the enterprising young man who spearheaded the preservation of the Midnight Wood, yes.” Mrs. Jupiter shooed him along after the Cartiers.
“Not you,” she hissed at Bednarek as he attempted to join the procession. “You have a few things to answer for yourself. Oh, and I’d nearly forgotten.” She produced a jar of healing salve and tossed it to David.
“Thanks, Mrs. J.”
She nodded to him, eyes twinkling, and took her leave.
“Ah. Boys.” Bednarek shuffled over to them, quite shamefaced.
“I admit, my approach to whole business of property sale perhaps neglected to consider bigger picture. Was not kindest way to treat reliable tenants—or friends. After so long, you are both, I hope, my friends. I offer humble apologies. And, Schwarzy, as for your brother—” He narrowed his eyes.
“He ever comes back, you tell me and I will—how do you say? Throw the motherfucker out on his ass, no?”
Meredith grinned. “You’ve got it exactly right,” he said, and for once, David had to agree.
“Speaking of property, Mr. Bednarek,” he said. “Of course there must be all sorts of red tape involved now when it comes to the question of the Midnight Wood itself, but there’s nothing to stop you selling the cottage, is there?”
The landlord’s chagrined expression returned. “No, no, I assure you, I do not plan—”
“No,” David interrupted, “I meant to us. Hypothetically,” he added, casting a searching glance at Meredith. “Just a thought.”
“Do you mean it? You’d really want to stay here?” Meredith caught hold of both David’s hands. “With the Wood and the Mice and—oh, David, can we?”
“I realize there’d be a lot to discuss beforehand,” said David, “but if you like the idea, and everything works out—well, Bednarek, what do you say? Would you consider it?”
“That,” said Bednarek with his most cherubic smile, “is distinct possibility. You two talk over, and come see me, yes?” He shook both their hands and departed.
—
At last the two of them were alone. There were so many things David wanted to say, and they all competed for attention in his mind at once. (Briefly, he wondered whether this was how Meredith felt all the time.)
David exhaled a forceful breath, willing some of the tension to leave his body. Meredith had wandered over to the edge of the deck, looking off in the direction of the Midnight Wood, Bianca at his feet.
David joined him, resting both hands at his waist. “Meri, if I’d known—if any of us had known—”
“I know,” said Meredith. “I do, now. It means more than you can know.” He sank back into David’s embrace and tipped his head back to rest on his shoulder.
“Do you know, I thought to begin with I wouldn’t be able to bear it, everybody watching all that?
I mean, I was quite ashamed—here’s me, thirty years old and still scared of my brother like when we were kids.
Only now that it’s all out in the open, would you believe I sort of feel better? Relieved, in a way.”
“Well, I’m glad of that, love,” said David, his voice husky. “Come on, then. Let’s go inside.”
Meredith twisted around to face him and pout. “Not going to carry me over the threshold?”
David huffed out a soft laugh of relief, and the rest of the tension dissolved. This was more familiar territory. “After you’ve already gone and tracked your filthy footprints all through the house? I should think not.”
But he lifted him into his arms anyway and carried him into Midnight Cottage—into their home. It had been all along, even if he’d been too stubborn to see it.
After just enough of a pause for David to close the door behind Bianca and for Meredith to toss his woodruff crown onto the kitchen table (“I am going to start the May wine today, I swear it”), they proceeded down the hall to the first-floor bath.
As David fetched more towels from the linen cupboard, Meredith said, “I did mean to tell you eventually, you know. After this morning, I mean, only there were so many things to say—still are, really—and I never expected him to show up like that.”
“It’s all right,” said David. At Meredith’s skeptical look, he said, “It is.” Maybe David didn’t have firsthand experience, but he knew Cartier’s words to be true, that it was difficult and complicated, and he himself hadn’t made it any easier.
“Of course I wish you’d felt all along that you could tell me—I wish I’d shown you I was listening.
But I certainly don’t blame you, and you don’t owe me a justification.
But right now,” he said firmly, “you need a bath.”
“So do you.”
The insinuation was clear. David cast a doubtful look over the bathtub. “We’d never fit.” There was barely enough room for him on his own as it was.
“Shower, then?” suggested Meredith hopefully.
In most cases, David did not particularly enjoy sharing the shower with anyone, no matter what opportunities it afforded, but these were special circumstances. They must be, because he found that he meant it when he answered, “I’d like that.”
They shed the remains of their clothing, and as the shower warmed up, Meredith let David comb the worst of the tangles from his hair.
Beneath the water, there was no need to speak as they washed the sweat and grime from each other.
Meredith’s touch was as tender as could be as he lathered soap over David’s skin, and he made vague apologetic sounds every time his fingers ghosted over his various abrasions.