25. Tobias
CHAPTER 25
Tobias
W ith Mom still sleeping from her midday nap, I decide to go to the bookstore and check in. Jerry and my other help pitched in to keep the store covered while I was getting Mom a checkup and settled back in at home.
As I turn onto Ocean Street, a line of people stand along the boardwalk wrapping all the way into the mermaid customer parking lot. They’re all waiting to go into The SeaSong, which surprisingly is open. I’m not sure how since Harmony was arrested last night. It’s not because of Marie—she’s still in school.
My bookstore on the other hand is nearly empty, despite ample help.
“Has it been this way all day?” I ask Jerry when I take in my emptier than usual store.
“Yeah, pretty much.” Jerry tips back in his chair. “Everyone in town knows.”
“Knows what?” I ask, but I have a feeling I know his answer.
“That you’re pressing charges against Harmony for elder abuse.” Jerry makes no bones about telling me. I always admired Jerry for that but hearing his accusatory tone makes my stomach drop. What have I done?
“First, I’m not the one pressing charges. It’s in the hands of the district attorney.” I can see the skepticism all over his face. “Nothing about this is my fault nor is it in my control,” I correct. Problem is, I don’t even believe myself so I know he won’t. Just thinking about what happened last night pisses me off.
Jerry says nothing but continues to stare at me with that wise and knowing look of his.
“How is the café even open?” I ask instead.
“Last I heard, she’s still in county jail.” I already regret what I did. I don’t need Jerry’s judgement on top of it.
“Best I could gather,” he lifts one of those infuriating hot pink paper cups to his lips, “it’s being run by family. Her mom, aunt, and Amanda, her baker.” He takes another long sip and looks at me. I feel shitty enough, I really don’t need Jerry trying to make me feel worse.
“Rumor has it, the whole extended family is famous and have been rolling into town all day. They’re circling their wagons, Toby. To protect their own. That means you’re in for a fight you might not be ready for. Judging by the line out there and lack of one over here, I’d say you should start worrying.” He stands and partakes in sipping more of his drink. He watches another person walk right past the bookstore toward The SeaSong. “Seems the people of Port Haven are taking sides. And yours doesn’t seem to be the winning one.”
A moment of silence passes without either of us talking. Then he says, “Glad Claire’s okay. I’ve always liked your mom. Good thing Harmony found her. Who knows where she would have ended up.” When a car pulls up to the curb, he heads for the door. “Welp, my daughter’s here. I’m heading out. See you.”
Leaving my store in the capable hands of my afternoon employees, I walk next door to check out the hubbub. The wait to get into The SeaSong must be long judging by the amount of people, but at least it’s more manageable than it was earlier. When I take my place at the end, the whispering starts among the few people in front of me.
People glance over their shoulders to look at me. Some point and send me side-eyes. No one seems to understand or care that I’m not the one pressing charges. Granted, Harmony didn’t contact the police about finding my mom. Instead, she drove my elderly and ailing mother to the beach at night when she recently took a spill and spent time in the hospital.
Harmony spent time with her in the hospital, so I’m sure she realizes that my mother doesn’t usually know where she is or much about her environment. She should have just contacted the police, not traipsed all over town with her.
When I finally make my way into the café, there are three women of various ages behind the counter. One I recognize, two I don’t. They must be Harmony’s mom and aunt as Jerry was kind enough to point out.
“What did Gibson say?” I overhear one lady ask the other.
“They just got her home. She’s taking a shower. James was able to make it worth the doctor’s while to see her on a day the office is closed,” the taller, blonde woman says, but even I can tell she’s holding something back without knowing much about her.
“What aren’t you telling me, Ris? Do I need to go? Is my baby girl okay?” The one I assume is Harmony’s mom seems on edge. Her voice gets higher, and it’s now edged with panic as she asks each question.
They’re obviously family, even I can see the resemblance with their build and coloring. One woman is taller, her sandy blonde hair well past her shoulders. The other woman shares the same jaw shape but is shorter with a dark black dyed bob. As the sisters move to the corner of the café to resume their talk while Marie takes orders, I’m now in a prime eavesdropping position.
“Gibson says she’s different…”
“Different how?” The alarm causes her whisper to come out louder.
The blonde woman sighs at the woman with the shorter hair. “He told me that she said she wanted to go home home, and she said some other very un-Harmony-like things about not being smart enough to be on her own. Like she’s given up on herself.” She ends her statement with air quotes. “He said it reminded him of when she was younger and would hide in the art room closet.”
Worry lines run deep across the face of the woman’s forehead and she pulls her mouth into a frown. Judging by their discussion, it seems like this one is Harmony’s mom. And the closer I look, the more I see the resemblance with her daughter.
“Wait, there’s more. Gibs seems to think some part of her is still worried that you and Kill will throw her away like Sevenya did. He did say Harmony seems okay physically, just tired. I guess there wasn’t a bed in the cell they kept her in.”
Both women are teary, but Harmony’s mom puts her hand up. “I need a minute.” She strides across the café and disappears through the door into the back where I assume the kitchen and supplies are located.
By the time it’s finally my turn to order, Harmony’s mom has returned to working behind the counter, filling orders while the other woman helps. The tip jar on the hard counter is a large fish bowl stuffed with dollar bills and tiny bits of paper with what look like encouraging words. The sign on it says it’ll all go directly to Harmony.
Amanda is taking the orders now and stiffens when she sees me. “Oh, Toby,” she stops talking, which draws the attention of the other two ladies. “What will you have today?” Her demeanor and lack of smile that’s been on her face since I stepped in tells me she blames me for Harmony too. Just like her customers. I’m surprised I haven’t been run out of the café yet.
By the look on the faces of Amanda and the patron waiting for his coffee next to me, I probably shouldn’t have come in at all.
“Nothing. Never mind.” I shouldn’t have come in here, my curiosity just got the best of me. It’s bad enough that everyone thinks I’ve done Harmony an injustice, especially judging by all the cash in the tip jar.
I could cause a scene and tell them I told them I didn’t want to press charges. That I, too, was concerned about Harmony and the treatment she received from the police, but what good would that do?
I don’t need people in town looking down on me like this.
I walk back over to the door and notice a few teens, probably Marie’s age or a little younger, on the stage of the café, moving around with cords and setting up a drum kit. Where there used to be a few tables, there’s now a stage.
“Wait. Excuse me,” I hear someone call out from behind me. “Toby, is it?” The woman I assume is Harmony’s mom grabs my upper arm after racing out from behind the counter. “Can I have a word with you?” She leads me out the front door, halfway between my bookstore and The SeaSong.
“I don’t know you. I don’t even really know the details of what happened between you and Harmony because I haven’t had a chance to see my daughter yet. I’ve been here, keeping her dream alive for her because right now she can’t. But my daughter would’ve never put your mother, or anyone else for that matter, in danger. Harmony’s working to make her own way in this world and, well, let’s just say her entire extended family dropped whatever they were doing to come here to support her once we got word she was in trouble. Why? Because she’s a good person. She didn’t deserve what she had to go through last night.” She removes her hand from my arm. “You’ll be seeing a lot of us. All of us.”
“And also, don’t come back. You aren’t welcome in the café. If you come in again, we’ll file a trespass order. Not only is her family here, so is our very expensive Los Angeles attorney.” She turns and walks back into The SeaSong, not allowing me a chance to speak my piece.
Instead of making a fuss about not being heard, about this not being on me, I return to my bookstore. There will be a time and place for my side of the story but that time is not now. My only hope is that her attorney files charges against that officer, because if anyone deserves consequences for their actions, it would be him.
A couple of hours later, a shaggy-haired teenager with round glasses comes into the store. It’s not uncommon to get the occasional boy coming in. Mostly, though, they’re looking for Marie or Veronica instead of books. He looks like he might like to read since he heads straight for the science fiction section instead of looking around to see where the girls are.
A few steps behind him comes an adult version that’s obviously the boy’s father. He’s tall and slides his aviator sunglasses from his eyes into his dark shaggy hair as he takes in the store. Then another long-haired man follows suit. His hair is much longer and pulled back in a ponytail.
I recognize both of them as Mavrick Slater and Callum Donogue of the Blind Rebels.
They all peruse the store like normal customers, each taking to a different section. The second man starts in the literary classics area before browsing the table of summer reading list classics that Marie created last week. The boy’s father looks at the magazines, flipping through one on dirt bikes while his son scans the sci-fi and fantasy shelves.
Surreptitiously, I move the bat I keep under the counter so that it’s within reach. With the hate I’ve been getting from the Havenites, I don’t put it past any of these guys to get violent. I’d rather be safe than sorry.
Callum approaches me, and I ring up the two books he’s chosen— A Clockwork Orange and Fahrenheit 351 .
“Would you like a bag?” I ask, keeping my eye on him after I give him his change.
“Nah, I’m good. Thanks, man.” He grabs the books and rests them under his arm against his leg. “Hey, Mav, I’m heading next door,” the man announces for most of the bookstore to hear.
This Mav person looks over his shoulder and responds with a quick chin lift before turning back to the magazine rack.
Mavrick Slater, the singer for the Blind Rebels, and his son approach the counter together about fifteen minutes later. The boy has a stack of three of our newest sci-fi books and one fantasy book. Mavrick adds a dirt bike magazine to it, a different one than what he was looking at before.
“Do you have any bookmarks?” the boy asks me.
“I have ones you can buy over there, or I have these, which are free.” I hold up the goldenrod cardstock bookmarks I had printed with Kelleher’s Booksellers scripted across the front, our website address, and other contact information.
“Can I have a free one? I don’t need something fancy just to hold my place.” He gives me a thankful smile as I slip two into his books before bagging them.
The singer pulls out his wallet that’s chained to his belt loop, ready to pay. “Why don’t you go next door, bud. Tell your mom I’ll be there in a minute to help.”
The boy nods and takes the bag of books with him.
Mavrick carefully slides his credit card into the reader that sits on the counter, expression hardening as soon as the boy leaves the store.
He tilts his head slightly as he gives me a lengthy perusal. “I saw you move your bat. I’m not here to cause any trouble. We’re here because my son and Callum are readers. I know you’re aware that we’re tied to Harmony. We’ll be in town for a few days. My son is an indoorsy kid while most of his cousins are very much outdoorsy. He’ll need something to occupy him while his cousins do who knows what.”
I wonder briefly if the cousins he talks about are the same boys who were on the stage of the café when I was there earlier.
“I have nothing against you. Your accusations against my niece, however, are alarming and concerning.” Again getting blamed for Harmony being in jail. If I had known where my mom was, I wouldn’t have involved the police.
“That girl is the sweetest person I know,” Mavrick continues. “Surprising considering the shit hand life dealt her. She’s a sweet, sensitive, old soul and is still coming into her own. I don’t want that to change about her. None of us do.”
He leans across the counter, glancing over his shoulder before leveling me with a hardened look. “I know a shit ton of people and have fans all over the world. Don’t make me say something on social media. I don’t want to do it. It’s not my thing to troll people online.” His gaze doesn’t stray from mine, making sure I’m paying attention.
“You mess with Harmony or anyone else in the Rebel family for that matter, I’ll do it. I can be a spiteful motherfucker when provoked. Just try me.” He slides his credit card into his wallet after completing the transaction and tucks his chained wallet back into his pocket. Taking his receipt and another free bookmark, he leaves.
Don’t any of these people realize that I’m not the one pressing charges? Doesn’t their attorney tell them anything?
I want to tell them that I can’t believe that she didn’t think to contact the police, and instead, she drove my mom to the beach. What would Harmony have done if my mom decided to go for a swim? She can be overpowering and combative when she’s in a confused state.
I’d been out of my mind with worry when I noticed Mom was gone when I thought she was in bed. Yes, I took some of that out on Harmony by yelling at her at the beach, which I think got the cops all jacked up. I’m starting to see now just how much that entire situation has affected her.