9. Chapter 9 #2
They fold into chairs at the far end of the table, his stubbled jaw finding the curve of her neck before she’s even unfolded her napkin. Jade’s brown hair is rumpled, his shirt buttoned wrong, and neither of them seems capable of keeping their hands to themselves.
I’m starting to think I might get away with this when Mrs. Wilson speaks up again.
“We were just talking about last night,” she says to them. “Did you two notice anything?”
I’m going to kill her. She’s a lovely woman, and I’m going to kill her.
They look at each other and grin. “We didn’t hear anything,” Jade says, ears going red. “We were . . . busy.”
Nina elbows him and they both dissolve into giggles.
“Well, that’s good,” Mrs. Wilson says, but she’s looking at me again with those concerned green eyes.
“Like I said, uneventful.” I smile so hard my face hurts.
I retreat to the kitchen and find Marmalade sitting by his bowl, staring at me with judgment and hunger in equal measure.
“You already ate.”
He meows, long and accusing.
“It’s not my fault you’re a garbage disposal with legs.”
He screams louder.
I dump more food in his bowl, because fighting with him requires energy I don’t have. He stops complaining and settles in to eat, purring between bites.
The kitchen is quiet except for the dishwasher’s rhythmic swooshing. I pull out plastic containers and start packing cinnamon rolls for Maddie, who’ll have heard some version of this story by the time I see her and still want my side anyway.
That’s what best friends do. They listen to your unhinged explanations and don’t immediately suggest therapy.
My phone sits facedown on the counter where I left it because I’ve been pretending the outside world doesn’t exist. When I flip it over, the screen lights up with a cascade of texts that make me want to throw it in the blender.
Daisy: so are you going to tell me why there were police at your house last night?
Daisy: or am I supposed to just hear about it from Rebecca Hartley at the pharmacy like everyone else
Daisy: because that’s what happened btw
Daisy: Rebecca told Mom
Daisy: Mom called me at 7am
Daisy: SEVEN
Daisy: when I could’ve slept in
Daisy: she opened with “is your sister okay” and then pivoted to asking if I think you’re lonely
Daisy: which is a wild conversational journey to take before coffee
Daisy: Evie I’m serious call me back
Daisy: if you don’t answer in five minutes I’m driving over
I stare at my phone and watch my life fall apart in real time.
Lucas has a big mouth. Rebecca lives for gossip.
Mom spirals at the slightest hint of a crisis.
And Daisy gets caught playing telephone between all of us because she’s too nice to tell anyone to back off.
The entire information chain took less than twelve hours.
New record. Usually it takes at least a full day for my personal business to complete the Brindlewood circuit.
Me: Not murdered. Tell Mom to relax.
Daisy: “tell Mom to relax” okay sure I’ll just do that
Daisy: should be super easy
Daisy: the woman who once called the hospital because I didn’t answer my phone for three hours
Daisy: THAT woman
Daisy: I’ll just tell her to relax
Me: There was a misunderstanding.
Daisy: a misunderstanding?
Me: Yes.
Daisy: Rebecca said Lucas said it was a man
Daisy: that he was IN your house
Me: Lucas needs a new hobby.
Daisy: why didn’t you call me. I would have come over
Me: It was late and you needed sleep.
Daisy: I need my sister not to deal with scary stuff alone more than I need sleep
Daisy: you know that right?
Guilt pinches.
Me: I know. I’m sorry. It really wasn’t a big deal.
Daisy: okay
Daisy: but you’d tell me if it was?
Me: Yes.
Daisy: promise?
Me: Promise.
Daisy: fine
Daisy: but Mom already texted me twice asking if you’re eating enough so you’re going to have to deal with that yourself. I am officially out of the middle
Me: Since when?
Daisy: since right now
Daisy: effective immediately
Daisy: I’m establishing boundaries
Me: You’ll last an hour.
Daisy: rude
Daisy: accurate but rude
Daisy: love you
Daisy: eat something
Me: Love you too.
I set the phone down, then pick it right back up and open Maddie’s thread.
Me: Are you awake?
Nothing. I wait thirty seconds, then try again.
Me: Maddie, I’m having a crisis and you’re sleeping through it like a bad friend.
Three dots finally appear a minute later.
Maddie: its 8am. someone better be dead
Me: No one’s dead. But there were police at my place last night and Rebecca Hartley is already spreading it around town.
Maddie: wait what
Maddie: police?
Maddie: are you okay???
Me: I’m fine. It’s a long story. Can you meet me at Honeybee’s around 11? I’ll bring food.
Maddie: yeah obviously
Maddie: what kind of food?
Me: Cinnamon rolls.
Maddie: how many?
Me: How many do you need?
Maddie: stupid question
Maddie: all of them
Maddie: don’t judge me the rusty nail was busy last night
Me: Bringing six rolls.
Maddie: SIX?
Maddie: ok im getting up right now
Maddie: see you at 11
Me: see you soon
I put the phone down and finish packing containers while the dishwasher cycles through its final rinse. When it beeps, I unload the clean dishes into their proper places. Plates by size, mugs by color, silverware sorted in the drawer. Everything’s where it belongs.
The morning has turned bright and clear by the time I leave the inn, and I’m halfway down the front steps when something tiny lands on my sleeve.
A ladybug rests there, its red shell dotted with black. It inches up my sweater toward my shoulder, and I hold my breath, the same way I did as a child, when ladybugs meant wishes and luck.
When it reaches my collar, the ladybug pauses, then opens its wings and flies away.
I look back down at the empty street. Houses with drawn curtains, parked cars, a lone dog barking somewhere blocks away. Everything as it should be.
But something feels off.
The hairs on my arms rise. I scan the empty sidewalks and vacant road, but there’s no one there. Still, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.
I tighten my grip on the keys and hurry to the car, fumbling once with the lock before I get inside and hit the button. I sit there staring at the perfectly ordinary street.
“Get it together.”
I start the engine and pull away from the curb, but even as houses blur past my windows, the prickle between my shoulder blades clings to me.