Now the world did begin to distort and warp with her tears. She packed her lunch things into her handbag and took her favorite pen—a purple fluffy thing with a cat on it that wrote as smooth as anything—from the desktop. There was nothing else of hers there.
She didn’t look at Jade or Chloe, but that didn’t stop her from hearing them gossip about her.
“About time, if you ask me,” Chloe said, in a whisper that was much too loud to be tactful. “Maybe we can finally get someone hired who actually fits in.”
“Right?” Jade said, “And, hopefully someone with more fashion sense.”
Roxy knew they were being snarky and mean, but that didn’t stop their comments from stinging. She swung her bag over her shoulder and strode down the aisle of the office determined not to look at anyone. She kept her head high as if she were full of confidence, and, thankfully, she made it to the door without stumbling in her kitten heels as she had sometimes done in the past. However, a tear did slide down her cheek, and she had to quickly wipe it away.
Once in her car—the smallest, most reliable car Roxy had been able to find without putting herself into debt—she had a good cry. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she bent forward to turn on the ignition. She even had a little wail as she drove back to the apartment she shared with Ryan. She hadn’t cried in so incredibly long that it felt weirdly good to do so. All her sadness, disappointment, humiliation—and yes, anger—gushed from beneath her long, dark eyelashes in watery rivulets that she couldn’t have stopped if she’d tried.
As Roxy climbed the stairs to her apartment, she paused in the dingy stairwell. How should she be? Should she wipe all her tears away and put on a brave face? Maybe then Ryan wouldn’t think of her as such a drag. Or should she allow herself to cry in front of him so he could see how upset all this was making her? Then, perhaps, he’d find an iota of emotion—preferably a supportive one—and wrap her up in his strong arms like he used to.
But Roxy didn’t know what he would do anymore. She felt like she didn’t know him anymore. She still really wanted to. She had this desperate urge to reconnect with him, to rekindle their spark. But how? She’d tried pretty much everything. And this on top of her dismissal made her so unsure that she couldn’t be certain of the ground beneath her feet.
Roxy looked at herself in her makeup mirror and scrubbed at her blotchy face with a tissue. Her lashes clumped but the light hitting the surface of her moist eyes made them shine. One of her gold stud earrings was missing.
Roxy was an attractive young woman. A few times throughout her life she had been told that she was beautiful, a compliment she vigorously denied. Her insecurity made her shake in the face of such approval. She would blush furiously.
But, in truth, her pale skin was like alabaster while her bone structure was delicate. She had deep blue, heavy-lidded, almond-shaped eyes that sat atop a neat, upturned nose. She had a full, small mouth. As she looked in the mirror she could see that her nose was red and her lips were swollen, both a result of her tears.
Roxy’s oval face and fine features were accentuated by her short, blond hair. The length of it was one of the few things upon which Roxy stood firm. While her boyfriend objected to her hair being so short, Roxy detested spending time styling it. The result was a “wash and go” cut that was perfect for her, even though the “swish” that Ryan craved was lacking.
Roxy patted down her plain white t-shirt, and beige skirt, flattening out the wrinkles and turned the key in the lock of the apartment door. She felt numb. Nefertiti, a cat with a cute squashed-up face and an abundance of pristine white fur, was waiting for her in the hallway as usual.
“Hello, my sweet girl,” Roxy said, giving the cat a rub under her chin. She straightened up. “Ryan?”
Ryan worked as a graphic designer from the comfort of their couch and was mostly home, but Roxy’s voice echoed around the apartment. There was no reply. She headed into the bedroom to see if he was asleep. He wasn’t there. Her heart dropped. She saw the closet. His side was empty, the hangers askew.
Roxy dove into her purse for her phone remembering that she hadn’t yet read his text message. Her heart hammered.
Bye, Roxy. I’m moving in with my new girlfriend. Thanks for the fun times.
CHAPTER THREE
ROXY DIDN’T GET dinner. She didn’t even change out of her work clothes. Usually, the first thing she’d do when she got in was shower, slip into some clean pajamas and fluffy cat slippers that looked quite like Nefertiti, and pad around the apartment for the rest of the evening.
But today, Roxy simply crashed onto the bed and fell asleep fully clothed, with Nefertiti curled up beside her.
Ten hours later—as if it were the next moment—Roxy woke up in the same position that she had collapsed into the previous night. For a glorious moment or two, she enjoyed the golden morning sunlight streaming through the blinds and the feeling of wellbeing that her good, long sleep had given her, but then reality came crashing down. Ryan wasn’t there. Ryan wasn’t in her life. And she didn’t even know if she had a job to go to.
Her mind started running. Would she have to dip into her savings? She could barely afford this apartment on her own with her job, let alone without it. Back when they had first rented it, she’d preferred a far more modest place so she could save even more of her paycheck. But Ryan had picked out this sleek one-bedroom, wooden-floored, white-walled apartment, and she’d have gone along with pretty much anything to make him happy. Now she’d gotten used to it.
Roxy’s mind continued to race. What if she had lost her job? Where would she live? How would she eat? In her mind’s eye, she could see it all too clearly—her savings spent, her car sold, the money from that spent too. Next she’d be destitute, on the street, cold and dirty with no one to care for or about her. Roxy’s heart began to beat more quickly.
But then again, what if Angela did ask her back? What should she do? Sink deeper and deeper into this black hole of misery where her life crumbled to nothingness as Jade and Chloe looked on and laughed? As Angela tormented her day after day? As customers called up to curse at her for their washing machine woes? After all that, she’d come home to an empty apartment where Nefertiti would be the only ray of light in her otherwise dismal existence. None of the available options sounded good.
Nefertiti must have padded out of the room during the night, leaving the bed empty. Roxy rolled over onto her side, feeling thoroughly miserable and having talked herself into a depression as deep as the Grand Canyon. It was at times like these that she wished she had a friend, a true friend, someone who really understood her. Sure, there were a couple of people from school that she messaged on Facebook now and then, and one or two women from her old job that she sometimes went out with on the weekend. But she had no one who she could ugly-cry to on the phone and with whom she could share her woes.
Eventually, Roxy swallowed back her tears, and with no phone call from Angela forthcoming, she moped around the house. Days like this called for a huge tub of ice cream, but she didn’t have any in the freezer, and the thought of going to the store to buy some seemed to demand the amount of energy required to climb Mount Everest. The idea of seeing anyone felt horrifying.
Roxy sprawled out on the couch, arranging herself around Nefertiti’s curled-up, white, fluffy softness and flipped through TV stations. There were Lifetime movies and some others she hadn’t heard of, but a Tuesday morning didn’t exactly get top programming. She tried to settle down to watch a Dr. Phil—anything—but neither her mind nor her body would settle, and she felt like launching the remote at the TV set. This was so unlike her that she startled herself.
Roxy sighed deeply and went to the kitchen. She shoved a six-pack of yogurts from the refrigerator into the freezer hoping that would be an adequate substitute for ice cream. She purposefully walked back out of the kitchen before she leaned against the doorframe. “Oh, what’s the point, Nefertiti?” Roxy said. But she could see from her place at the doorway that ev
en the cat was ignoring her. Nefertiti was sitting bolt upright, staring at the TV.
“Hey,” Roxy said with her first little smile of the day. Nefertiti looked so human as she sat on the sofa watching television, it made Roxy laugh. “What’s so interesting, Nef?”
Roxy stepped forward into the living room and turned to look at the screen.
“Oh…,” she said. She watched the bright colors of a carnival flash up. The weirdest feeling overcame her—a feeling she’d never had before. She sat down beside Nefertiti; her eyes now glued to the screen. “Oh…,” she said again. It was like she was watching something she’d seen or been a part of before, almost like nostalgia for something she’d never really known but knew about instinctively.
Roxy watched as carnival dancers spun and flashed their bright costumes, revelers packing the streets. She watched women in skimpy bright outfits, their bodies painted, twirling and dancing and laughing and looking so carefree. That was one thing Roxy wished she could be, carefree.
“Taste real life,” a woman’s voiceover on the commercial said. “Taste real culture. Taste Mardi Gras in New Orleans. We’re waiting for you.” The pounding sound of drums in the background matched the pounding of Roxy’s heart.
Once the commercial had ended and an ad for some kind of drug had started, Roxy let out a little breath like she’d been dancing among the bright colors and booming drums. “Well,” she breathed, looking at Nefertiti. She trailed off not quite knowing what to say. How could you explain that feeling? And why had Nefertiti been so interested? The fluffy cat sat back down again and curled up on the couch. Sinking back into her sleepy zone, she purred just a little.
Roxy felt baffled and, all of a sudden, not depressed at all.
She began tickling Nefertiti under her chin, and before she could stop it, a new, slightly scandalous idea was forming in her head.
“No, you couldn’t possibly,” Roxy said to herself out loud. But a huge smile was spreading over her face. “Not sensible Roxy. She’d never do that.” But talking the idea down only served to make a new rebellious streak in her gain strength. She got up feeling like a new person, full of energy, and sauntered over to the bedroom to get her laptop.
“All right,” Roxy said, mentally preparing herself for what lay ahead. She threaded her fingers together and pushed her palms out in a stretch. She bobbed her head from side to side like a boxer preparing to enter the ring. “Okay.” Butterflies danced in her stomach, but it felt thrilling rather than nerve-wracking. “I’m going to do this.”
She placed her fingertips on the keyboard, typed a few words, and pressed “Return.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“HAVE I COMPLETELY and utterly lost my mind?” Roxy said to Nefertiti. She almost couldn’t believe what she was doing. She had nearly had a panic attack when she realized that she was eating into her savings for the first time ever. The bus she was traveling in had been at a service station at the time. Now, Roxy poked her finger into Nefertiti’s travel box, trying unsuccessfully to stroke her. “Have I gone totally crazy?”
The middle-aged lady across the aisle from Roxy clearly thought so by the look she shot her, though in fairness that was probably because Roxy had prattled on to Nefertiti constantly about all kinds of nonsense for the past three hours.
For her part, Roxy couldn’t believe that she was now over 800 miles away from her home state of Ohio. She hadn’t ever been that far before. The furthest she’d ventured was to visit some of Ryan’s family in the Chicago suburbs.
That had been an uncomfortable visit. It was the first time she’d met Ryan’s mom, who kept calling him, “My little Ry-Ry,” waiting on him hand and foot, and undermining Roxy at every opportunity. She had made snide little “jokes” about her son’s girlfriend, and Ryan had laughed along.
Roxy drifted into silence as she stared out the window as Alabama raced by. Her heart hurt a little. Life had changed so quickly. She thought she had been so happy—with Ryan, with her job, with her cozy little life, with her cute apartment that she’d now given notice on, and with her little rusty car that she’d sold just before she left. All of the money went into her savings account, of course. But had she really been satisfied and content with her life? The overwhelming feeling Roxy got as she whizzed down the country to the South was No, she had not!
She felt free now in a way she never had before. Her tension was easing. Her disappointing memories were disappearing in the rearview mirror of the bus. She was breaking into smiles more easily, and she alternately tapped her feet as she managed her pent-up energy. Roxy had been gone for fewer than 18 hours.
Perhaps leaving it all behind for a while wasn’t going to be as hard as she thought. In a month she’d have to find somewhere to live and somewhere to work. Her new life wouldn’t be one long Mardi Gras, but that was okay. When Roxy’s pessimistic thoughts threatened to break through her excitement, she calmed herself with a lot of soothing self-talk, letting herself know it was fine to dip into her savings. That’s what they were for—to give her just the right amount of freedom she needed to explore. She settled back in her seat and let out a long breath. Things were going to be fine. They were, weren’t they?
Roxy drifted off to sleep at some point. She was awakened when the bus driver spotted a stop sign at the last minute and screeched to a halt. She blinked blurrily and looked out the window. They were in New Orleans already? She was about to turn to the woman across the aisle and ask, but then she spotted a sign that said “Craving Cajun?” She couldn’t wait to try the food. While her frame was petite, Roxy had a deceptively large appetite and enjoyed cuisine from around the world in rather large amounts.
That was one thing she could thank Ryan for—introducing her to international food. Along with Mexican, Chinese, Italian, and Indian fare, they’d also adventured into less-explored culinary territory. They’d tried Indonesian, Jamaican, and Polish food, and they loved a good Ethiopian meal from time to time.
“Stop thinking about him,” Roxy whispered to herself. “This is your new life—not his! Not yours to share, but yours alone.” She was both extremely nervous and extremely exhilarated. She felt a buzzing sensation travel through her body. She couldn’t wait to hop off the bus and locate the hotel where she was staying for the next month. That would be the beginning of her new life.
Roxy strolled down the New Orleans streets, pulling her case with one hand and holding Nefertiti’s travel box in the other. She sort of knew where she was going, but she was enjoying the scenery and didn’t mind too much that she was meandering a little. The sun was shining down, and Roxy felt sunny and optimistic.
She figured that she couldn’t miss the guesthouse she was looking for. The pictures she’d seen made it look idyllic and so bright that she expected to squint. The flamingo pink frontage of the small hotel was what had attracted her, and when she found that they did accept pets, Roxy knew that it was the perfect place for her stay. The price was very reasonable, too, and they offered a hefty discount for month-long visits. Perfect.
Eventually though, Roxy stopped a sympathetic-looking woman in the street and asked her, “Do you know where Evangeline’s guesthouse is?”
The woman’s eyes flashed wide for a moment before she fixed her face into a smile. “Sure thing, sugar. You just go into the alleyway off this street, and it’s a little way down there. You see it?” She pointed.
“Oh, sure, great,” Roxy said.
The woman looked her over, her eyes curious. Roxy paused for a moment, wondering if she was violating any kind of local custom or unspoken rule. Perhaps her northern manners weren’t up to snuff for those in the South. “Thank you, ma’am,” she added, feeling a little uncomfortable but hoping she was saying the right thing.
“You’re most welcome. Take care now.”
Roxy followed the woman’s directions and turned into a little alleyway. It was a very narrow cobblestone street, so narrow that only a small vehicle could have turned around in it. At the other end, the
re was an ivy-covered brick wall. Set within that was a tall, wrought iron gate beyond which she saw gravestones. Halfway down the alleyway, placed outside a café from which the most beautiful, sweet, pastry-baking smell was pouring, were set some tables and chairs. However, her attention was quickly snatched away by the building that faced them.
The sky above it was a deep, deep blue just as the website had promised, and Evangeline’s was indeed where it was supposed to be, nestled among a huddle of old wooden buildings. The narrow three-story structure was pink as the photographs had shown, but that was where reality collided with Roxy’s expectations. It was like a truck hitting a brick wall.
The pictures Roxy had seen must have been taken years and years ago. Now the paint was patchy—baby pink in some places, salmon in others, and almost white at the very top where it caught the most sun. Some of the wooden trim boards had black streaks running through them and were half rotted away. There was a little balcony on the third floor that looked like it would collapse at any minute, and while the windows were clean, one of them had a massive crack across it. Even the courtyard out front was a scrub of weeds. Roxy would have assumed it was abandoned if many of the windows hadn’t been open.
Roxy gulped. What on earth had she done?
“Okay, Nefertiti. Here’s home for the next month.” She tried to sound cheerful, but she had a horrible sinking feeling like her stomach was collapsing in on itself. Still, she thrust her head up and threw her shoulders back. There was no way she’d cry or break down or even doubt herself. She’d prove she wasn’t boring. She’d prove she wasn’t a pushover. She’d prove she wasn’t afraid of anything. She’d prove she was adventurous, exciting Roxy, fully in control of her fabulous, fun, new life.
Roxy lugged her case over to the narrow weed-surrounded doorway and looked around for a doorbell. There wasn’t one, so she knocked, plastering a smile on her face for whoever would greet her and waited for something to happen. No one came, so she knocked again, more forcibly this time. The door opened with a long creak. Roxy peered inside.
Roxy Reinhardt Mysteries Box Set Page 2
