Chapter 11
Fredrik
Ididn’t care how disagreeable or obnoxious she found me. I couldn’t let her live like that, hiding in a tiny storage room, in constant fear of an impromptu visit from her employer.
“How do you sleep there, anyway? The bed doesn’t look big enough for you.”
“It’s okay,” she said, her jaw jutting forward defensively as she stared out the window.
“Then you’re seriously blessed in that department. I’d be up all night.”
“I’m a lot smaller than you. Just take me back. I’ll be fine.”
“No. I have two options for you. There’s a room above my store I’ve used as emergency accommodation before, when… um… there was a time I needed it.”
“How much? I’ll take it!” She let out a nervous laugh, holding her hand over her chest.
Why was her breathing so rapid? We were just sitting.
After driving around the block and seeing that Mr. Young had finally moved on, I parked in front of the bookstore again.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “You seem… anxious.”
She locked eyes with me, her gaze intense. “I… I just had a mini panic attack. I’m riding it out—it’ll pass.” She drew in a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then added, “But I do need to use your bathroom.”
“Of course.”
When we got out of the car, she practically ran to the stairs. A few minutes later, she re-emerged, looking a little less agitated. I guided her to an armchair, and she sank into it with no protests, sucking in deep breaths. “I like this chair,” she said.
“I know. I found your credit card inside it.”
“What?” She looked up, horrified. I grabbed my lost-and-found basket and handed her the card.
“I must have… I think I sat down and was looking in my purse.”
“It’s fine. I find all manner of items inside that chair. It eats so many coins that Felicity nicknamed it the Slot Machine. The house always wins.”
She smiled, a little relieved, and pocketed the card. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Noelle E. Clarke.”
Pink blotches rose to her cheeks. “Please don’t google my name. Or do. Maybe it’s better that you know. If I’m staying here and all.” She twisted a strand of hair around her fingers as her gaze wandered around the room.
Was she talking about the article?
“Felicity showed me the article,” I said. “I read it.”
“Oh.” Her gaze snapped onto mine, and she took deep breaths for a moment.
“Good. You should know. Although I’ve been super careful.
Only my sister knows I’m here. No one else in Bangor.
And that article didn’t have any pictures of me.
So don’t worry. Spencer won’t turn up at your door!
” She smiled, her voice forcefully bright.
“It’s okay.”
“And it probably helps that I don’t get a signal anywhere. Only on top of that hill. So I have like no digital footprint or fingerprint or anything!”
“Maybe you need to switch carriers?” I suggested. “Mine works on most days, if conditions are favorable.”
“When’s that?”
“There are weather patterns that are better for it. You can check the town paper for the internet forecast.” There were moments I felt proud of my hometown, and other moments, like this one, when I found myself uttering sentences so fucking weird that I wanted to bury my head in the snow.
No wonder Elora hadn’t wanted to live here.
Always driving to Bangor for work and for pleasure. I winced.
Noelle fanned herself with a pamphlet she’d picked up from my desk. Something about Santa Speed Dating. “I get anxiety from a lot of stuff, but the patchy signal is not one of them. It helps. You stop checking your phone, and the day becomes more focused.”
“I suppose.”
“I loved it on the ship. Sometimes heavy clouds disrupted the satellite signal, and we lost internet access. Everyone was playing board games, talking, and drinking. Life was so contained. I had so little anxiety on the sea I honestly thought I was… healed.” She blushed and hid behind the pamphlet.
A shirtless Santa with a six-pack smirked at me from the cover. Eileen had dropped off a pile of them two days ago, urging me to come along. I shuddered at the thought.
“I don’t think it’s something you can heal from, per se,” I said. “As long as you’re alive, your body will produce stress hormones. If it didn’t, you’d be killed.”
“Killed?” Her eyes widened. “I thought I’d be chilled.”
I chuckled despite myself, feeling oddly warm.
Something about her unfiltered babble put me at ease, even in her anxious state.
My arms twitched with a sudden urge to hug her.
I hadn’t felt like that in ages, with anyone.
Since Elora’s death, I’d been hugged against my will so many times, forced to inhale all those old-lady perfumes.
“If you’re too chill, you get killed, because your body won’t alert you to danger. Stress hormones keep you safe.”
“From saber-toothed tigers, maybe.” She gave me a dirty look and lowered the pamphlet, now looking at it for the first time. “There’s a Santa Speed Dating event at the café?”
“Welcome to Hideaway Harbor.”
“Are you signing up?” she asked. “You’d look great in a white beard.”
“Shirtless?” I raised my eyebrow.
“It says beards and hats are provided, nothing about shirts being confiscated. But I bet you’d look great with no shirt on!
” She grinned at me, her gaze dipping to my grandpa’s brown wool cardigan, which was probably the least sexy piece of clothing available on the face of the earth.
Was she flirting with me? At least she seemed less agitated now, leaning back on the armchair.
The door buzzer cut my thoughts. Kailee. I’d completely forgotten about my niece.
“Hey!” she called from the door, heaving her backpack behind the register.
“Do you have any snacks? I’m starving.” She began peeling off her winter clothes—a black puffer coat, a gray scarf, and a black beanie.
Underneath, she wore an oversized black hoodie over baggy jeans.
I suppose it was a teenage thing, hiding under a pile of oversized clothes in funeral colors.
“What took you so long?” I asked and dug up a packet of stale cookies I’d stashed under the counter.
“It’s Monday. I was at the library.” She glanced at me like I was stupid, adjusting her fogged-up glasses.
Noelle jumped out from behind me, giving Kailee a start. “Hi! You must be Fredrik’s niece. I’m Noelle.”
Kailee took off her glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of her hoodie. “I’m Kailee. You’re the Christmas shop girl? Mom told me.”
“In the flesh!” Noelle gave her a wavering smile she didn’t return. “I came to use the bathroom. My facilities are a bit… um, lacking, so…”
“I offered her the upstairs room until she finds something better,” I added, bracing for Kailee’s reaction. She’d told me the best thing about my store was that nobody bothered her.
Noelle cast me a grateful glance. “And I accepted because I’m a little desperate.” She pulled a face.
“That office room upstairs?” Kailee’s gaze flicked between us as she tried to assess what was going on. “You’d have to be more than a little desperate.”
“That’s me!” Noelle let out a nervous laugh. “Honestly, I can’t wait to sleep in the vicinity of a bathroom. It’s such a luxury!”
“You’re funny,” Kailee deadpanned and hopped to sit on my desk, filling her mouth with a cookie.
“Are those any good?” Noelle asked.
Kailee tilted the packet her way, and she took one. “Thanks. I used to keep a stash of thin mints under my bed when I worked on a cruise ship.”
“So you’re used to small spaces,” Kailee said.
“Very. That office room is three times the size of my cabin!”
“It’s like a sealed tomb. Watch out for dust bunnies the size of regular bunnies.” She shot me an accusing look.
I was almost impressed. I’d never heard a quip like that from my withdrawn niece. I’d never seen her sitting on a desk, either. Not that I was particularly thrilled that she’d planted her ass where I ate my lunch.
“Don’t worry!” Noelle waved her hand. “I know where he keeps the vacuum cleaner. I will murder those bunnies!”
“You sound like my mom,” Kailee muttered, but her usual eye roll had a warm edge.
“I’ve met her, and I’m taking that as a compliment!” Noelle grabbed my office chair and rolled it around to sit next to Kailee, tapping at the backpack she’d hoisted on the desk next to her. “What do you have here? It looks heavy.”
“Books.” She said, like it was obvious.
Noelle clapped her hands. “Show me!”
To my astonishment, Kailee unzipped her bag and pulled out one of her brick-like fantasy titles, handing it over. She was drawn to Noelle, just like me, against my better judgment.
Noelle took the book and studied it, her face lighting up. “This sounds so good!”
“I’ll go check the room,” I said, heading for the stairs.
I doubt they even heard me, absorbed by whatever that book was about. Romance, apparently. Dragons were in a supporting role, then.
I was happy they were occupied. I had to clear the office of any personal items before I let Noelle move in.
Maybe even tidy up. I’d heard enough of these jibes now, and it was true.
The store had fallen into disrepair. It wasn’t like I never cleaned.
I kept my home in order. Sort of. Or rather, I kept it in a state of organized chaos, as I worked on restoring it with the help of Jackson.
But I’d lost any passion I’d once had for the bookstore.
It was just where I sat for the day. As long as I kept it open, people assumed I was coping and let me be.
If I stopped showing up at work, my family would probably stage an intervention.
I gathered my personal belongings into a cardboard box and shoved the box into the hallway cupboard, coming face-to-face with the vacuum cleaner.
I might as well tackle the dust bunnies, I thought, dragging it back to the office.
This room had been my refuge during the last year of my marriage.
I grimaced as the vacuum cleaner choked on a used tissue that floated from under the bed.