Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
STELLA
Saturday morning, I drive to Julia’s house and I wait at the end of the lane for her. When she sees me, she doesn’t look surprised. She climbs into the car and buckles her seatbelt as if my being here was previously arranged.
“Good morning,” I say, reaching for my water bottle.
She says, “How was your date last night?”
I’ve just taken a slurp of water. I gasp, making it impossible to swallow, and spit the water all over the steering wheel.
Why didn’t I realize earlier that people would assume Drew and I were on a date? The moment we were seen together at the café on my first visit here, people started talking about the two of us dating. This is more fuel to add to the gossip.
I pull out onto the road. “It wasn’t a date,” I tell Julia because there's no one else to tell.
“You got dressed up. He picked you up at your door. Isn’t that what people your age call a date?”
It sounds like the definition of a date to me, but that isn’t what Drew called it, so I can’t call it that either. “Just friends hanging out.”
“I like Drew. He’s always nice.” She pulls out her teasing voice, something I’ve barely caught a glimpse of up to now. “He’s also really cute. For you, not me. He’s old.”
Oh, to see twenty-eight as old. Thirty-five must be ancient from her point of view.
“If only kindness and good looks were enough to build a relationship on,” I say. I’m not going to admit to my teenaged employee that there is a whole lot more involved on my end.
“If you were a character in a book, it would be.”
I laugh. “Then I’m glad I’m real and not a figment of some author’s imagination.”
“Would you rather be single than married to Drew?”
“Are those my only two options? Forever single or Drew?”
Even if there were many options, Drew would still be my pick.
“You guys are happy together. Maybe that’s enough?” She sobers. “Or maybe it’s better not to fall in love. Love should be like a romance book. Happy forever, you know? But it’s not. Real life never ends that way.”
I pull in behind the bookstore, but Julia doesn’t move to get out of the car. I stay still, not wanting to break the conversation.
“Why do you think that?” I ask.
“My mom was happy when my dad was alive. I don’t remember much about him, but I do remember they would laugh a lot together.
Then he died in a work accident, and she did really stupid stuff.
If he had lived, maybe she wouldn’t be sad all the time.
Or angry, which is worse. I wonder if she would have been happier if she’d never been in love at all. ”
My heart breaks for what she’s gone through. I reach out and squeeze her shoulder. “I wish that hadn’t happened to her or to you.”
“I like reading about people falling in love in books. But it’s fiction, right? No one is happy forever.”
“Bad things happen, but that doesn’t mean we’re doomed to misery forevermore. Or that we should build walls around our hearts and never love because of the potential of being hurt. Even after disappointment, we can find happiness again. Life gets better if we don’t give up.”
Julia gives me a side-eye. “Okay, Sunshine.”
I laugh. “I mean it! Before I moved to Blissful, I lost most of my friends, including my best friend. That was awful. But now I’m here, and I have this bookstore. I’m friends with you and Drew. You two make me happy.”
She looks down at her lap. “Really?”
“Yes, really. Hiring you was the best decision I’ve made since moving here.”
She unbuckles her seatbelt and opens her door. I’m afraid I made her uncomfortable, but then she says, “I’m glad you're my friend, too,” before exiting the car.
DREW
It’s late when I ring the bell at Stella’s back door. The Apple Jamboree activities at the fairgrounds are over and the out of towners have left.
“Be right down,” she says through the speaker.
We’re lucky the moon is only a half crescent tonight; it’ll make us harder to spot. Once our eyes adjust to the dark, we shouldn’t need to use a flashlight.
When Stella comes out, also dressed in black from neck to toe, I hand her a black beanie. She pulls it on her head with a laugh, then turns and locks the door.
“Where are we headed?” she asks.
“I don’t know until I get the text, but most of the locations are along Second Street and north of town.”
“Will we need to drive?”
“Against the rules. We’ll be able to get everywhere on foot.
” From my pocket, I pull out the orange armbands.
“Put this on. We can’t cover them, but we can hide behind stuff.
We might not recognize the other teams since they’ll be wearing all black like us, but Ross will know who they are by their color.
At each location, we grab the orange bag, but leave the others. ”
“Got it.”
“Would you rather be fast and possibly get caught by other teams, or stealthy?”
“I’m all about fast,” she says. “But doing what we can to keep out of sight at the same time. If we’re quick enough, maybe the negative points won’t hurt us.”
“That’s what I think too.”
My phone buzzes in my hand. Our first clue. I read it aloud.
“‘The peaceful resting place for all of Blissful’s alumni. Roderick Reynolds has a message waiting for you to collect.’”
“That’s our clue?” Stella asks. “Do you know Roderick Reynolds?"
“No, but I’m guessing his resting place is the cemetery. Come on.”
We start off jogging toward First Street. It only has a few street lights so it’s dark for large stretches. Easy concealment.
“The cemetery?” Stella says. “In October? That’s a bit cliche, isn’t it?”
“Ross leans into the holiday. You’ll see his house later tonight. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any ghosts.”
I scan the street as we run, looking for other teams. It’s quiet but for our soft footfalls on the sidewalk.
“Is everyone heading for the same place?” she asks, her voice quiet, but level, even with the jog.
“No. There are twenty-four teams this year. He splits us between the ten locations.”
In contrast, my voice is a little ragged. Maybe I should join her for her morning runs.
I see movement to the left and tug Stella’s arm. Both of us drop to the ground. We’re breathing heavily, but still hear the whisper of two people as they pass going the opposite direction. They must have their bag from Roderick Reynolds and are discussing where their clue tells them to go next.
I pull out my camera and take a picture. It’s blurry and dark, but their pink armbands are clearly visible. I send it to Ross.
As soon as it’s silent, we stand and jog through the gate.
“Look for a bust, about a foot high,” I whisper. “It’ll be easier than looking for a name on a stone.”
The cemetery has fewer lampposts than the street.
It’s hard to know what might be a cartoon bust when there are so many tombstones.
It’s actually another team’s camera flash going off that has us honing in on the correct spot.
When we get closer, we drop down to the ground, getting the lay of the land and who else might be around.
I lean in until my mouth is close to her ear and whisper. “We run up, take a selfie with the bust, grab the small orange bag, and run out the gate.”
“Got it.”
Just as I’m about to stand from my crouch, two people run from the opposite direction.
We hunch down further, but I lean out and snap a picture of the blue polka-dot team.
Another text to Ross that I send as soon as they disappear.
I don’t want to give our location away because of the light from my phone screen.
After they’re gone, we run up, take our selfie, and grab our clue. I send the picture to Ross as we run. There’s no way to know if we’ve been caught on camera until the end when the scores are tallied.
Once out of the cemetery, we pause and Stella reads the clue by the light of the moon.
“‘A well of knowledge awaits those who pay the price. Reading, writing, arithmetic? No. Try acrylic, chalk, and oil.’ Mmm … maybe the art room at the school? But which one? Elementary, middle school, or high school?”
“They’re all on the same block. We’ll know which one by which building is unlocked.”
The path to the school is better lit than the one we took to get to the cemetery.
We try to keep to the shadows, but go for speed.
Once on the school grounds, I head for the high school.
Lucky guess; the doors open. The overhead lights are off but for the occasional security lights.
I didn’t take any art classes while in high school, but I know the room.
Our sneakers squeak softly on the linoleum as we jog, stopping at every corner to check for other players.
We start down the correct hallway, and are almost to the art room when a dim light shines out through the open door.
There’s a team inside. I tug Stella behind the open art room door and press her against the wall, stepping in front of her.
My hands land on her hips. Hers press against my chest. The team inside will hopefully pass by without discovering us.
When they reach the door, they turn off their light, but they don’t leave.
They talk in hushed whispers just inside.
I should grab my phone from my pocket to get a picture of them as they leave, but it’s hard to focus on the game when Stella’s body is flush against mine.
It becomes impossible when her hands slide down my chest and around my waist. My jacket must have ridden up, because her hand touches bare skin.
My muscles tighten and my breath stutters.
She buries her face in my shoulder, probably to muffle her heavy breathing, but I instinctively pull her closer.
I love the feel of her in my arms, but hate that it’s a game that’s put her here.
The other team still hasn’t left. Half of me wants them to go so Stella and I aren’t so close together.
The other half wants them to stay there forever.