Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Time Loop Maxims
If time loops were a common shared experience by a large enough fraction of Earth’s population, there would probably be more maxims about them.
What happens in the loop stays in the loop, perhaps.
Every change in the loop happens for a reason: you.
Put that on a plank of wood in a beach house bathroom.
Loop me once, shame on you. Loop me twice …
well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.
Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. The good news was, for the first time in a long time, Amie Teller woke up somewhere other than her own bed. The bad news: Her secondhand couch was not comfortable to wake up on.
Back pain aside, Amie was feeling better.
Until Ziya emerged from her bedroom, sleepily suggesting they get breakfast from Eons, and she was suddenly reminded of her Homeric quest to get a blueberry bagel the day before.
(Replace Polyphemus with a moving truck and Scylla with a group of joggers and she and Odysseus basically went through the same ordeal.)
Another time loop maxim: Life after a time loop is like riding a bike.
For Amie, a very mediocre bicyclist, this could be interpreted as “very shaky and potentially dangerous for herself and everyone in her vicinity.” But it also meant that twenty-eight years of living a life that chronologists would call “normal” meant that she had deep-rooted instincts that two years in a time loop couldn’t wipe out.
Despite that, there were still a few small moments of panic.
An unthinkably obnoxious sports car roaring down the street.
A passing jogger taking her by surprise.
A plane flying overhead, so loud that even a non-anxious person might think, “Huh. That plane’s kind of loud.
” But with Amie’s determination to Get Back To Normal, Ziya’s comforting chatter, and a merciful lack of trucks driving through puddles, they reached Eons Café so fast Penelope would’ve said, “Back so soon?”
Inside the café, Jess was back at the register. Some things remain the same, even after a time loop.
“Hey there,” they said as Amie and Ziya reached the front of the line. “Haven’t seen you in a bit; how’s it going?”
“I’m great, good to see you,” Ziya replied cheerfully. “Can I get a black coffee and cranberry muffin? And a blueberry bagel and mint tea.” She shot Amie a sideways look to confirm.
“What did I say?” Amie said sternly as Jess rang up the order.
Ziya’s eyes went wide with worry. “What?”
“You said you’d forget everything you know about me.”
A choked laugh escaped Ziya’s lips, relief washing over her face. “I said I’d try,” she corrected. “It’s a slow process. Plus, as I’ve gone on the record saying before: Blueberry bagels are weird. Have a more normal breakfast order and I’ll have an easier time forgetting that.”
Amie made a face as she dipped into her purse. Ziya stopped her.
“I’ve got it,” she said, flashing her own card. “You covered dinner.”
“I ruined dinner,” Amie reminded her. “And I have a free beverage reward.”
“Save it. That mac and cheese was better than anything I could’ve ordered at the restaurant. You rescued dinner.” She tapped her card on the reader.
Amie glanced behind them. No one else was in line, so she turned back to the counter and asked, “Hey, Jess?”
“What’s up?”
“Have you heard anything more about Savannah?”
The barista’s eyes lit up. They glanced past Amie and Ziya, then lowered their voice and said, “Savannah went to the bookstore two nights ago and never returned home. Her husband found her dead in the store early the next morning. Bludgeoned in the head.”
Amie’s stomach lurched. “So she was killed Monday night?”
“Seems like it.”
She hadn’t been sure, but now it was confirmed: Savannah had died during the time loop. Every night, when Amie was eating dinner in her apartment, or at the restaurant with Ziya, or … well, that was about all she did. But every night, Savannah was murdered, and Amie had never known.
Jess gave Amie a concerned look. “You all right?”
Amie nodded queasily, taking in a deep breath through her nose.
Ziya had also observed Amie’s distress. “Do the police have any suspects?” she asked, kindly taking over the conversational reins.
“That I don’t know,” Jess said. They looked around again, gesturing for Amie and Ziya to lean in. Once they did so, the barista whispered, “I wouldn’t be surprised if they suspected Madeline.”
There was a brief pause. The name rang a faint bell for Amie. She waited to see if Ziya had any reaction, assuming she was doing the same.
When neither of them said anything, Jess added, “Our owner?”
“Ohhh,” said Amie and Ziya in unison. Madeline was the owner of Eons Café, and would occasionally greet and check in on customers whenever she was in. Amie hadn’t seen the woman in a while, as she hadn’t been in the café during any of Amie’s trips to Eons on Monday.
“Why would she be a suspect?” Ziya asked.
Jess somehow managed to lower the volume of their voice even more than before. Amie pressed closer to catch their words.
“Madeline’s been wanting to buy the bookstore from Savannah for ages,” the barista said. “She wants to knock down the wall and make it one big business. But Savannah wasn’t gonna sell, no matter how much the store was suffering or how much Madeline offered her.”
“So you think Madeline might’ve …?” Ziya dragged a finger across her throat, clearly reveling in the drama.
Jess shrugged, stepping back. “All I’m saying is that I’d be surprised if she isn’t a suspect. But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Of course,” Amie said. “Is Madeline here now?”
Ziya gave her a strange look as Jess answered.
“No,” they said, “she went next door for the memorial.”
“A memorial?” Amie asked. “That’s quick. It’s barely been a day since they found her.”
“Yeah,” Jess agreed, scratching the back of their neck. “Honestly, I don’t think the store can afford to stay closed for too long. Whoever planned it was probably trying to come up with a classy way to keep the doors open.”
“Do you think—” Ziya began, but the barista’s eyes were on the couple that had just entered the café and were heading for the register.
“Your order will be ready for you at the end of the counter,” Jess said. “Have a great day!”
“What were you going to say?” Amie asked as they walked over to the pickup spot.
“I was gonna ask if they think Madeline will buy the bookstore now.” Ziya lounged against the counter.
She had borrowed clothes from Amie—a pair of flip-flops, black running shorts, and a tie-dye T-shirt she’d twisted and tucked into a crop top.
“Whether or not she killed Savannah, if she wanted to buy the store before, she can probably do it now.”
“We could ask her,” Amie said. “She’s right next door.”
Ziya cocked her head. “I was wondering why you asked if she’s here. Do you really want to talk to her?”
Amie shrugged, shuffling her feet self-consciously. She wasn’t sure how to explain her guilt around Savannah’s murder to someone who didn’t believe her about the time loop. Then a thought crossed her mind.
“The police are suspecting David,” Amie said. “And we know he didn’t do it. So I was just thinking … maybe I could try to figure out who did. To keep David out of trouble.”
As she spoke, she realized that she was worried about David. If there was a killer out there who had sent the police after her friend, who knew what else they might do to keep the cops off their tail and on David’s?
Ziya rolled this over in her head. “Could be fun,” she mused. “Okay, I’m in.”
Amie gave a start. “Hang on. Who invited you?”
“Ha. Me, bitch.” Ziya crossed her arms. “David’s my friend, too. Just because you got custody of him in the breakup doesn’t mean I don’t want to clear him of murder.”
“Okay. Fair.” Amie thought this over. Having Ziya join her could be helpful.
At the very least, if that morning’s walk to the café was any indication, having her around would significantly shorten Amie’s travel time.
(Her effect on Amie’s heart rate any time their arms brushed could be distracting, but Amie was willing to work through that.)
They thanked the barista who brought over their drinks and food.
“So,” Ziya said, popping open the lid of her coffee, “let’s chug these and go next door to interrogate Madeline.” She took a sip of her drink, then winced. “Ah! Hot. Too hot to chug. Never mind.”
After finishing their drinks at a rate that was somewhere between a chug and a slow sip, they stowed away their bagel and muffin and headed next door to the bookshop.
Amie was fully aware that their friend date was dangerously close to the sixteen-hour mark.
She knew that spending so much time with her ex-girlfriend (who she still had unaddressed feelings for) was probably not the smartest idea.
It was apparent to her that despite things going well between them so far, it could all easily fall apart at any moment. She was cognizant of the fact that—
The runaway train of logic that was barreling through her mind screeched to a halt as Ziya pulled open the door to the bookshop and flashed Amie a smile. “Time travelers first.”
Amie paused, startled. She’d assumed Ziya had already forgotten she’d brought up the time loop, chalking it up to Amie trying out a strange metaphor. Apparently, whether she believed it or not, the time loop was still on her mind.
“I’m not a time traveler,” Amie said, feeling shy. She didn’t know how to talk to Ziya about it. “I didn’t really do much traveling through time. I was more like a … time homebody.”
“Yeah, that sounds like you.” Ziya chuckled as she followed Amie inside.