Chilled to the Cone

by Ellie Alexander

  “Sterling.” I pressed my hand to my chest. “You’re going to make me tear up.”

  “Don’t get mushy on me.” Sterling nudged me with his elbow.

  “What’s the issue, then?”

  He sighed. “It’s a lot of stuff. Stephanie’s family is pretty strict. I don’t know that they’ll be okay with her moving in with me, and I don’t want her to think that me asking her is motivated by money. I’m going to propose eventually, but she’s made it clear she doesn’t want to get married anytime soon. She wants to finish school and thinks that there’s no need to rush.”

  “So you two have talked about this?”

  We returned to staining as we talked. “Yeah, we’ve talked about it. She told me the only way she’ll ever get married is if it can be a Halloween wedding.”

  “That would be cool and that sounds like Steph. Plus can you even imagine the costumes and food we could come up with for a Halloween wedding?” I crossed my fingers on both hands.

  “There’s no question in my mind. She’s the perfect match for me. We balance each other out, you know? And, I want to take some more writing classes at SOU. The townhouses are only a couple blocks away. We could both walk to campus and to Torte. With taking on more responsibility here and with the nice raise you and your Mom gave me, I can afford them. It’s just that…” He trailed off.

  “I’m confused, what are you worried about? It sounds like you have a plan and you’ve thought this through.”

  “I can already hear Steph’s parents telling her that we’re too young and it’s a rash move. They’re paying for her college and I don’t want to put her in a position to jeopardize that or her relationship with them. My dad and I have slowly been trying to rebuild trust after everything that went down when my mom died. I don’t want to see Stephanie go through what I’ve gone through. But at the same time I know that we’re ready for this step. I know that we would both be happy living in the townhouses and not have to worry about rent, money, or transportation.”

  I appreciated that Sterling had put thought into the decision and that he was looking out for Stephanie’s best interest.

  “I’m hardly suited to give you advice on making rash decisions on love. I’ve told you about marrying Carlos on a whim, right? Sterling, we’re hopeless romantics. Mom would say that’s a good thing. It lends itself to passion and poetry, but speaking from experience, sometimes feeling deeply also means opening yourself up to heartbreak and loss.” I thought back to my whirlwind wedding with Carlos in Marseilles. I didn’t regret my decision to marry him on the spot. Nor did I regret leaving him on the ship two years ago when I learned that he had a son he had never told me about. I realized now that I had to leave. If I hadn’t, I might have stayed stuck. Stuck in a life I didn’t know was wrong for me. Even with the sadness and confusion I’d caused both of us, I was thankful that a string of events had sent me in a new direction. Blame it on my name, but my heart had always led me—for better or for worse.

  Sterling shooed away a fly. “That’s the thing that I keep coming back to. Isn’t love supposed to be rash? Isn’t that what every love sonnet is about? I don’t want to wait to start my future with Stephanie. I learned that from losing my mom young. We’re not promised forever. That’s a lesson that will stick with me. If I love Stephanie now, why should I wait to be with her?”

  “I think you have your answer.” I gave him a knowing look.

  Andy hollered from the other side of the garden. “Hey, can one of you come help me with the ladder?”

  “On my way,” Sterling called. Then he handed me his paintbrush. “Thanks for listening, Jules. I’m going to think on it some more.”

  “I’m honored that you trusted me with this, and anytime you want to talk, I’m always happy to listen.” He went to help Andy. I moved on to the next section of fencing. Love was complicated enough without the external pressure of parents and other people’s expectations. I didn’t envy him. Having Carlos in Ashland had been equally wonderful and confusing. If you had asked me on that magical day in Marseilles if I would be considering whether or not we had a future together today, I would have been speechless. I could imagine myself laughing at the mere thought that Carlos and I wouldn’t have a picture-perfect future. But like the ever-changing tides, our lives had ebbed and flowed in different directions. Maybe if I had stayed. Maybe if I hadn’t steered my ship home. Maybe we’d be bobbing blissfully on some tropical sea instead of trying to figure out how—or if—we fit together on land. Or maybe I would have been entirely miserable.

  Hearing Sterling sound so sure of his love and devotion for Stephanie rattled me. I enjoyed having Carlos in Ashland, but if he hadn’t insisted on coming, would I have continued to let things drag out indefinitely between us? Yes, I had missed him, but was that enough? If there was one thing I was sure of it was that we both deserved to be happy, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Carlos wasn’t being entirely truthful with me.

  “Jules, Jules,” Andy’s voice shook me back into reality.

  “Huh?” I glanced around the garden to see Sterling steadying the ladder while Andy hung a red-and-teal banner above the coffee and ice cream counter. Like Steph’s original sketch, the logo was in the shape of an ice cream cone with a scoop each of chocolate, vanilla, and strawberry ice cream with SCOOPS dripping from one side of the cone.

  “I was asking if this looks level to you.”

  “Move it a little higher on the left,” I said, walking closer and shaking myself free from thoughts of Carlos.

  Andy shifted the banner. “Like that?”

  “Perfect.” Between the bright banner, the fresh coat of paint, and the matching red-and-teal barstools we had purchased, the space was beginning to take shape.

  Andy fastened the banner and climbed down from the ladder.

  Suddenly voices echoed behind us. It sounded like they were coming from the railroad tracks.

  “HELP! HELP!” A woman screamed as the sound of a train whistle blared. I glanced at my watch. The train came through Ashland twice a day.

  We dropped everything and raced out of the garden gate and to the backside of the building toward the tracks.

  The shrill blows of the train whistle mixed with the high-pitched screams of Laney Lee, who was standing in the middle of the tracks.

  It took me a second to process what was happening.

  The noon train was barreling toward Laney.

  “Laney, move!” I yelled.

  She turned her head. Her eyes were wild with fear. Then she pointed at her feet.

  I gasped. The Wizard lay sprawled out across the tracks.

  “What do we do?” I turned to Sterling and Andy as panic welled inside me. “We’ve got to get him off the tracks.”

  Andy began waving at the train, which fortunately looked to be slowing. But was there time?

  Sterling ran to help Laney. I followed, kicking gravel as I sprinted toward the tracks. The Wizard was passed out cold. Sterling grabbed his feet. “Support his head,” he said to Laney. That seemed to snap her out of a fog of disbelief.

  “Jules, lift his torso,” Sterling commanded. “On three.”

  We tugged his body, but his purple cape was caught in the tracks.

  “Stop! Stop!” Andy continued to wave and yell at the train, which was now only about fifty feet away.

  The train conductor applied the brake. An ear-piercing screeching sound reverberated as the tracks shook.

  “Try again,” Sterling yelled over the sound. He had managed to rip the Wizard’s cape.

  I flexed my muscles, thankful for the many hours I spent kneading dough and lifting heavy bags of flour.

  “Ready?” Sterling didn’t wait for an answer. “One, two, three.”

  We heaved the Wizard from the tracks just as the train came to a halt two feet from where we’d been standing.

  I let out a long sigh. That was close. Too close.

  “Jules, Jules.” Sterling sounded panicked.

&n
bsp; My heart rate spiked. I turned, half expecting to see the train barreling toward us again.

  “Jules, look.” Sterling held out his hands. They were covered in blood.

  “Oh no, are you hurt?”

  He shook his head, staring at his bloody hands and then at the Wizard. “This isn’t my blood.”

  I looked down and realized that the Wizard hadn’t been passed out. He was dead.

  Chapter Six

  This couldn’t be happening. I had just seen the Wizard a few hours ago. My head felt fuzzy, like I was watching everything unfold on a movie screen.

  “Someone call the police!” Laney wailed. She cradled the Wizard’s head in her arms. “Call the police! We need help!”

  I sprang into action, grabbing my phone and dialing the Professor. “It’s Juliet. There’s been an accident on the railroad tracks,” I blurted out the minute I heard his deep baritone voice on the other end of the line.

  His tone was calm. “Is an ambulance required?”

  “Yes, but”—I hesitated as I looked at the Wizard, whose lifeless body was limp in Laney’s arms—“I think he’s dead.”

  The Professor talked me through protocol, promising he was on his way and would be there shortly. “When we hang up, I want you to call nine-one-one dispatch and tell them everything you’ve told me. I’m in the plaza and will be there in less than five minutes.”

  I followed his instructions. The 911 operator had me stay on the line until help arrived. In a blur, an ambulance with a shrill siren and flashing lights zoomed down the alley and blocked the pathway, followed by the Professor’s sedan and a white police SUV with Thomas and Detective Kerry.

  Sterling, who typically kept his emotions in check, was visibly shaken. He was sitting crossed-legged next to the Wizard’s body, staring at his bloody hands. I pulled him away from the railroad tracks as EMS workers raced toward us carrying medical bags. “Let’s go sit down.” I pointed to the garden.

  Andy, who was standing nearby, shot me a thumbs-up. “I was thinking the same thing, boss. We should give the police some space.”

  Without being prompted, he wrapped a muscular arm around Sterling’s shoulder and guided him to the garden. I recognized the signs of mild shock. It was understandable. Sterling had witnessed death close up. There was no escaping an emotional reaction to that.

  Andy helped Sterling sit in one of the bistro chairs. I went to get him a towel for his hands and a glass of water. If only we had pastries or coffee on hand. A hit of sugar or espresso never hurt in a situation like this.

  “How are you doing?” I asked, handing Sterling a damp towel. “Here, wipe off your hands.”

  His eyes were glassy. “I feel kind of lightheaded.” He wiped the blood from his hands, staring with disbelief at the towel that was turning red.

  “That’s normal,” I reassured him.

  Members of Addie’s yoga class had spilled out into the street to see what the commotion was about. Hunter, his son Lars, and a bike mechanic had come out of Cyclepath as well.

  “Is he dead?” Sterling dropped the towel on the grass. “He’s dead, isn’t he?”

  “I think so.” I handed him a glass of water. “Try to drink something.”

  The ambulance had silenced its siren, but its flashing lights bounced off Namaste. Something smelled like it was burning. I wondered if it was from the train coming to a screeching stop or if in her rush to help, Laney had left something on the stove.

  Andy turned to me. “Hey boss, I could use a coffee. Do you mind if I run over to Torte and bring back a pot of espresso? Maybe some sandwiches or cookies?” He caught my eye. I could tell he was trying to speak in code.

  “Good idea.” I shot him a look of gratitude. “I think that would be great.”

  I turned my attention to Sterling. “I’ve been in your position before and I know how unsettling it is to say the very least.”

  “I didn’t realize when we were lifting him off the tracks that he was already gone. It wasn’t until we set him down that I looked at his face and could see that there was nothing in his eyes.” He clutched the glass, but it shook so hard that water spilled from the top.

  “I know.” I placed my hand on his knee. “I know.”

  We sat together in contemplative silence while activity blurred around us. I knew the best thing for Sterling and for myself was to take a few minutes to breathe and try to center ourselves. Shock was a real concern. Sterling’s ashen face, the bluish tint to his lips and fingernails, and his shallow rapid breathing had me ready to call the paramedics over.

  “That was his blood.” Sterling stared at his quivering hands.

  “Yeah.” I nodded. “Try inhaling through your nose, nice and slow.” I modeled breathing for him.

  He followed along, inhaling deeply, holding his breath for a moment, and then releasing it slowly.

  “Good. Keep focusing on each inhale and exhale.” I watched his attention shift from his hands to his breathing. “There was nothing else you could have done.”

  Sterling reached for the water again, his hands still trembling. “I couldn’t get his cape free. If only I could have gotten him free sooner.”

  “No. He was already dead. The fall must have killed him. You did everything you could, Sterling. You were amazing.”

  He blew out a long stream of air. “Was he already dead? It feels like a weird nightmare.”

  “I’m sure of it.” How had the Wizard died? And what was he doing on the tracks? Had he had an accident like Sky? I pictured the scene in my mind, but couldn’t recall seeing his bike anywhere.

  The smell of smoke grew stronger. I looked to my left and noticed gray smoke billowing from Laney’s food truck.

  “Are you okay for second?” I asked Sterling, pointing to Nana’s Street Food.

  Sterling took another drink. His hands were a bit steadier, which I took as a positive sign. “I’m feeling slightly better. I’m just going to sit and keep breathing for a while though.”

  “Good. You’re going to be fine. Like I said, it’s totally normal. You have more color now. Keep breathing, and I’ll be right back.” I left him and ran to the food truck.

  The minute I opened the door, a huge black cloud of smoke engulfed me. I coughed and covered my mouth with my sleeve.

  My eyes stung as I waved smoke from my face and surveyed the tiny galley kitchen. Sure enough a pot of rice had been left on the stove. The water had evaporated, leaving a blackened mess searing on the bottom of the pan. The smoke was thick. I flipped off the burner, found some pot holders, and took the burning pot outside.

  As I stepped out of the truck, Laney approached me.

  “Oh no! Thank you, Jules. I totally forgot that I had food going in the midst of all of this.” She motioned behind her to the railroad tracks. “Is the truck on fire?” She coughed and fanned smoke from her face. Like Sterling, her hands were coated in dried blood.

  “No, the truck is okay. Smokey but fine.”

  “Thank you.” Laney wiped tears from her eyes with her sleeve. She looked worse than Sterling. Her skin was sallow, her pupils were huge, and sweat beaded on her forehead. “I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe he’s dead.”

  I placed the pot on the sidewalk as smoke continued to billow. “Did you see what happened?”

  She tried to brush her hands on her apron. “I have no idea. I got here about an hour ago to start lunch prep. I was in the middle of chopping fresh herbs for my daily salad special when I heard something out back. It sounded like fighting. I went to see what was going on and found the Wizard on the tracks.”

  “Did you see anyone else?”

  She tapped her forehead with her index finger, trying to retrieve a memory. “I think so. Everything happened so fast, but I’m pretty sure I saw a guy speed away on a black electric bike. It could have been a biker already on the path, though I’m not sure.”

  “Were there any signs of trauma on the Wizard?”

  “Yes. Look.�
� She held out bloodstained hands. “I think he’d been hit in the back of his head. There was a huge bump and so much blood. I told the police about it.… Do you think he fell? Do you think he felt any pain? I hope he went quickly.” Tears poured from her again.

  “He could have fallen,” I said as much for my sake as for hers.

  “Maybe. But where was his bike? I didn’t see his bike anywhere. He’s never without that bike. He was alone on the tracks.”

  But faceup, I thought. If he had been hit on the back of the head how could he have fallen faceup?

  “Someone killed him, I’m sure of it.” She wiped her eyes with her apron.

  “How do you know?”

  She turned her head toward Cyclepath. “Because I’ve been paying attention. Hunter has had it out for the Wizard for months. You saw his outburst. He’s been harassing and threatening him daily. Same for Lars. That punk kid is always in trouble. I don’t know why Hunter’s gotten it in his head that the Wizard had anything to do with missing bikes and vandalism. If I were him, I’d be looking close to home.

  “The only thing the Wizard ever did was ride his bike back and forth on the street and pathway. That irked Hunter. Why? I have no idea. The Wizard never would have stolen a bike. His bike was his most beloved possession. I think it was his only possession and he wouldn’t have parted with it. The fact that his bike is missing makes me sure that Hunter’s involved. Hunter probably stole it from him or made Lars do it. They hated him.”

  “Do you really think so?”

  “Yes!” Her tone was forceful. “Hunter didn’t like the fact that the Wizard wasn’t classy enough for this area. That’s why he kept trying to run him off. It didn’t have anything to do with stolen bikes. I know he wanted the Wizard dead. I saw Lars harassing him the other night. He and his buddies were chasing after him on their skateboards, throwing rocks and pine cones at him. I bet you anything that Hunter put them up to it.”