Chapter 7 #2
Another book facedown.
She thought of the two on Jake’s porch and smiled.
“What?” Marisol asked.
Emma looked at her. “What?”
“You smiled.”
“Did I?”
“You did.”
Emma shook her head. “Nothing.”
Marisol gave her a look that said she didn’t believe her, but she didn’t ask.
The machine stopped.
Marisol gathered the pages and handed the original back to Emma.
“Two copies?”
“Please.”
While the second copy ran, Emma slid Jake’s letter back into the envelope. She checked that the pages were straight and pressed the flap down even though it wasn’t sealed.
She’d promised him an hour.
She looked at the clock behind the desk.
Twenty-three minutes.
There was plenty of time.
Still, she felt better knowing exactly how much of it she’d used.
Marisol handed her the second copy, then reached beneath the desk and came up with a manila folder.
“You need this.”
“I do?”
“You’ve got papers sticking out of your bag.”
Emma looked down. A corner of her legal pad was caught beneath the zipper, and two sheets from the property records were folded behind it.
She laughed. “Apparently I do.”
Marisol handed her the folder.
Emma put one copy of the letter inside. Before closing it, she looked at the first page again.
The letter was so ordinary.
That was what bothered her.
There were no threats and no demands. Nothing that would have given Jake a reason to question it. Whoever had written it had known exactly what he needed to hear. The house was being sold, but nothing in his life had to change.
He could stay.
Emma thought about him asking her yesterday if he should start packing.
She’d said no before she’d even thought about it.
At the time, she’d told herself she was trying to calm him down. Now she wasn’t so sure that was the whole reason.
She didn’t want Jake to leave the cottage.
Emma closed the folder.
That thought had come too easily.
She took out her phone and photographed both pages of the letter before sending them to Maeve.
Marisol was back behind the desk now, sorting through a stack of reservation cards. She hadn’t asked a single question.
Emma was beginning to appreciate that about her.
“You look worried,” Marisol said without looking up.
“I’m trying not to be.”
“How’s that working?”
“Not very well.”
Marisol smiled and continued sorting.
Emma’s phone buzzed.
It was Maeve.
I’ll read this now, but I need the paper copy when you can. I want that letterhead in my hand.
Emma slipped her phone into her bag.
“You were right,” she said.
Marisol looked up. “About what?”
“I’m definitely having a day.”
“I’m usually right about these things.”
Emma smiled.
She tucked the manila folder into her bag but kept Jake’s envelope in her hand.
She had somewhere else to go before she returned it.
As she walked toward the door, she realized she was already thinking about getting back to Hibiscus Lane.
Not because of the letter, but because Jake would be there.
Margarita Max’s was quiet when Emma arrived.
Tess stood behind the bar refilling salt shakers. Leah was at the register with her glasses low on her nose. The lunch crowd had thinned, leaving only two men at a table near the front windows and Lloyd in his usual place at the far end of the bar.
Emma was beginning to recognize the room at different times of day.
In the afternoon, the white lights along the beams hardly showed.
The photographs on the walls seemed more faded, and the old paddleboard hanging from the ceiling looked as though it had been gathering dust since before Emma was born.
There was something comforting about the place. Maybe it was because nobody seemed particularly interested in impressing anyone.
“Is Maeve here?” Emma asked.
“Out back on the phone,” Tess said.
Emma handed her the manila folder.
“Can you make sure she gets this?”
Tess took it without looking inside.
“I’ll put it in her hands.”
No questions.
Emma was beginning to understand that about the people at Margarita Max’s. They could be curious about everything and still know when something wasn’t theirs to ask about.
In Chicago, a folder crossing a desk came with a cover note, a deadline, and three people copied who didn’t need to know.
Here, Tess tucked it safely beneath the bar and went back to the salt shakers.
Emma took a seat. “How did the music go?” she asked.
Tess set down the shaker.
“Joey played for two hours and eleven minutes.”
“That sounds very specific.”
“I was watching the clock.”
Emma smiled.
Tess told her about the people who’d wandered in from the street and stayed. One man had bought drinks for a table of strangers. The tip jar had done better than Tess had hoped.
The only problem, apparently, was Connie.
“She walked past him twice,” Tess said. “Twice. Didn’t say a word.”
Emma glanced toward the kitchen door, half expecting Connie to appear.
“Is that bad?”
“It’s terrible. If she’d told me no, at least I’d know where I stood.”
From the register, Leah shook her head.
“Leave it alone, Tess.”
Tess looked at Emma. “See what I live with?”
Emma laughed.
She liked listening to them. Their disagreement was small and familiar, the kind people could have because they knew they’d still be speaking to each other tomorrow.
It made her think of Arthur.
There had been nothing small about their disagreements for a long time. Even before the cottage, conversations with her uncle had felt like something to prepare for. She chose her words carefully around him and had learned not to expect the same in return.
Here, Tess and Leah argued about music and bar towels and then moved on.
Emma wondered what it would be like to have that kind of certainty with someone.
Her thoughts went unexpectedly to Jake.
He’d trusted her with the letter. She’d promised to bring it back.
Emma looked at the time.
She’d been away from Hibiscus Lane for forty-one minutes.
“I should go.”
Tess glanced at the clock.
“You just got here.”
“I promised someone I’d be back within an hour.”
Tess looked at her for half a second longer than necessary.
Emma stood before she could ask.
“Tell Maeve I’ll call her later.”
“I will.”
Emma headed for the door.
Behind her, she heard Leah say something to Tess in a low voice followed by Tess complaining about Leah’s tone.
Emma smiled and shook her head.
Jake was sitting on the porch step when Emma returned to Hibiscus Lane.
The bandana was gone, and he’d changed his shirt. His hair was still damp near his forehead. A beer rested beside him.
Emma came through the gate and held up the envelope.
“Less than an hour.”
Jake stood.
“I noticed.”
She handed it to him.
He checked the envelope, although Emma wasn’t sure he realized he’d done it.
“You copied it?”
“Yes. And photographed it.”
“What did your friend say?”
Emma thought about Maeve’s text.
“She said it matters.”
Jake looked at her.
Emma could see the questions forming.
“I know that isn’t enough.”
“No. It’s not.”
“But it’s all I can give you today.”
Jake slid the envelope into his shirt pocket.
Then he picked up his beer.
“You want one?”
Emma blinked.
“A beer?”
“Unless you’d rather have more lemon water.”
She smiled.
“I’ll take the beer.”
Jake went inside.
Emma sat on the top step and slipped off her flats.