Death by Espresso

by Alex Erickson

  I got it. Me.

  We looked at each other across the counter, and I realized I wasn’t angry. Sad, yeah, of course, but not angry.

  “You should take it,” I said. “Especially if it’s a promotion.”

  “It is,” Will said. “I lose my own practice, but this is a chance for me to move up, really make a difference.” He sounded excited, and I knew I couldn’t take that from him. “Carl and Darrin will stay behind with Paige. They’ll take over the office and take over my patients. You won’t have to look for another doctor or anything.”

  “That’s good,” I said, though the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  “I’m sorry,” Will said, entire body sagging. “I’ve really made a mess of this.”

  “Don’t be sorry,” I said, and found I could smile, despite the ache in my stomach. “This is a good thing.”

  “It is,” he said. “But you . . . I should have handled it better.” He fiddled with his coffee mug a moment before going on. “I’ve been pulling away,” he admitted. “Over the last few months, when I realized I was going to be taking this job, I thought it better if we eased off. I couldn’t ask you to leave your life behind; I’d never forgive myself if I did. So, I thought I’d slowly break away, making it easier on the both of us when I finally did have to go.” He laughed a bitter laugh. “Well, make it easier on me, I suppose.”

  I remained silent. I’d noticed how few and far between our dates had become. I’d feared it was because he was breaking up with me or I’d done something to offend him.

  It appeared I was right on one count.

  “I should have considered your feelings more,” he went on. “I mean, I did, but not in the right way. I could see how my actions were affecting you, but I was afraid that if I told you why I was staying away, I’d hurt you more. I put myself in a position where no matter what I did, I would hurt you, and that, in turn, made me miserable.” Another brief, unhappy smile. “I really did mess up.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “You didn’t mess anything up.”

  “I should have told you up-front.”

  “You should have,” I conceded. “But I’m not mad at you. I understand why you did it.” I might not like it, but I understood it.

  “And now, with everything else that’s happened, I wasn’t sure I should tell you. But I felt so guilty lately, I had to get it off my chest.” He sighed. “I thought maybe we could try the long-distance thing, but that would never work, not with our jobs. We’re both always so busy.”

  I rose and walked around the counter. Will watched me the entire way, as if he wasn’t sure what I was going to do. There was a stiffness to his posture, like he was mere seconds from bolting.

  I stopped before him, met his eye, and was forced to fight back tears. Good-byes sucked. I looked at him, and instead of loss, I felt relief that he’d finally found the strength to tell me. I smiled to show him I was happy for him, and then, I hugged him.

  His reaction was immediate. His entire body sagged into me as he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m so sorry, Krissy.” His voice was choked with tears.

  “It’s okay,” I said again, struggling against crying myself. And it was. Now that I knew what was going on with him, it was a big weight that had been lifted from my shoulders. “We’ll both be okay.”

  We parted, each of us having to pause to wipe away our tears.

  “I can still go with you to the wedding,” he said once we both composed ourselves. “If you want me to. They wanted me to fly out in two days, but I can stay here.”

  “No, go,” I said. “You don’t want them thinking they can’t count on you.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked. “I’d much rather stay with you. It might only be a couple of days, but . . .” He shrugged.

  “I’m sure.” I took his hand and squeezed to prove it. “Take the job. I’ll be okay here.” My face turned stern. “But you’d better write.”

  “I’ll do better and call,” he said.

  “Good.”

  He rose and swallowed as if he was having trouble. If he cried again, I was going to completely lose it. I was barely holding on as it was.

  “I should probably go,” he said, sucking in a deep breath. “Thank you for understanding and not kicking my ass for dumping this on you with everything else that’s happened.”

  “I’m glad you did.” I paused, gave a little bark of a laugh that sounded as if I was near hysterics. “Well, I’m glad you told me. I’ll miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you too.”

  I walked Will to the door. He hugged me once more, kissed my cheek, and then stepped outside.

  I watched him go, heart breaking just a little. I might be okay with him leaving, but it still sucked. It was a miracle that I’d landed him in the first place, and to have held on to him for this long was more than I could have asked for.

  Will got into his car and started it. He honked his horn and waved. I returned the gesture, and then he backed out of my driveway—and in many ways, my life—for the last time. A moment later, he was gone.

  I closed the door, made straight for the freezer, and removed a tub of rocky road ice cream. Eschewing a bowl, I grabbed a spoon and carried the entire container to the living room, flipped on the TV, and then dug in, determined to eat my troubles away.

  21

  I felt surprisingly good when I woke up the next morning. My stomach was a little on the icky side, thanks to all the ice cream, but otherwise, I thought I could face the day without breaking down over Will’s imminent departure.

  When I drifted out of the bedroom, I wasn’t met with the smell of breakfast like I was accustomed to. I went out into the dining room, curious, to find both Dad and Laura sitting at the table, dressed as if they were planning on going out.

  “Hey, Buttercup,” Dad said, rising. He crossed the room to where I stood, and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

  “Fine,” I said, looking from one to the other. Laura had stood and was giving me a worried look. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” Dad said, glancing back at Laura. “Well, I mean, nothing bad.”

  “We just want to make sure you’re okay,” Laura said.

  “I am.”

  “Are you sure?” Dad walked over to the trash and picked up the empty tub of ice cream. “I know what this means.”

  “It’s nothing.” I looked at my feet, ashamed I’d given in and eaten the whole thing.

  Dad started forward, but Laura beat him to me. She draped an arm over my shoulder and pulled me close so our heads rested against one another. “If you need to talk, I’m here,” she said. “No need to include men.” She shot a sly smile toward Dad.

  Some of the sadness about Will’s departure tried to sneak in then, but I swallowed it back. It’s hard to admit when you’re hurting. But while I was sad Will was leaving, I would get through it.

  “Thank you,” I said. “But really, I’m okay.” I stepped back and smiled, showing the both of them how okay I really was.

  “If you want, we can all go out and get some ice cream together,” Dad said. “My treat.”

  My stomach did a little flip. “I think I’m all ice creamed out,” I said. “But thanks.”

  “What about breakfast?” Laura asked. “We were thinking of going to the Banyon Tree.”

  Going out to eat with them sounded great, but I wasn’t in the mood. “Perhaps later?” I asked. “You guys go ahead.”

  Dad and Laura shared a look, before Laura took my hand. “Okay. If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

  “I do.”

  “Chin up, Buttercup,” Dad said.

  I raised my chin. “Yes, sir.”

  He laughed, and then both he and Laura gathered their things and were gone.

  A part of me regretted turning them down, but if I sat there with a happy couple, it might make me feel Will’s absence that much more. And sitting around, thinking about him, would be just as b
ad, so I decided I needed to take care of a few things around town.

  The first thing I did was pick up my phone and call Ted and Bettfast. Neither the Bunfords, nor Lyric, had pressed charges against me, for which I was thankful, but I didn’t want to leave it there. I held my breath as the phone rang, worried Bett Bunford would answer. As much as I wanted to apologize to her for my actions, I thought it best to wait. There would be no forgiveness forthcoming from her, at least not for a while.

  “Ted and Bettfast, this is Jo speaking.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Hi, Jo. It’s Krissy Hancock.”

  “Oh. You.” She didn’t sound happy.

  There was a time Jo would have been happy to help me. Now, it was a wonder she hadn’t hung up the moment I’d said my name. “I know Bett doesn’t want me coming around anymore, but after yesterday, I feel like I need to apologize to your guest Lyric Granderson.”

  “I see,” Jo said.

  “I’d call her room directly, but I’m not sure how.” I wasn’t even sure the rooms had their own lines. It was more likely Lyric would be using her cell. Either way, I didn’t have a number at which I could reach her. And sitting around town, waiting for her to wander by, would be a waste of time.

  Jo was silent for a long moment. “I’m not sure I should get her,” she said. “Bett was awfully clear about you.”

  “She doesn’t need to come to the phone now,” I said. “And you don’t have to give me her number.”

  “I wouldn’t do that anyway.”

  “But could you give her my cell number? She can call me if she wants to talk to me. It’ll take the pressure off of you and let Lyric make up her own mind about whether or not she wants to talk to me. Bett can’t get mad at you for doing that, can she?”

  Another stretch of silence before, “Okay, fine. I can do that.”

  “Thanks.” I rattled off my number. “Tell her she can call anytime.” Though I hoped she’d call me back right away. I wasn’t exactly known for my patience, and if forced to wait too long, I might do something I might later regret.

  “I’ll let her know.”

  “Good. Thank you, Jo.”

  “Uh-huh. Have a nice day.” She hung up.

  I settled back with a huff. Now what? I really wanted to talk to Jacques Kenway, but I had no way of contacting him. I supposed I could call up Gina or Frederick and ask them about him. They’d likely have his number, and might know where he was staying.

  Then again, Gina had sent the cops after me. I’d find another way to contact Jacques.

  Knowing I’d go crazy if I sat and waited for the phone to ring, I decided to watch a little TV to pass the time. Misfit had sauntered into the room sometime while I’d eaten, but hadn’t bothered me like he usually would. In fact, he’d barely looked at me at all, choosing instead to sit in front of the front door.

  “You like her more than me, don’t you?” I asked, only a little jealous.

  He looked over at me, and then stood up and walked away, tail swishing.

  “Well, she’ll be gone soon,” I called after him. “You’ll come crawling back to me then!”

  He flipped his tail once, and then vanished back toward the bedroom.

  I started for the living room, wondering if I should buy Misfit a new catnip toy to win back his affection, when the phone rang. I snatched it up and answered after only the first ring.

  “Krissy, it’s Lyric.” She didn’t sound thrilled. “I’m returning your call.”

  “I’m glad you did,” I said. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I shouldn’t have gone in your room, no matter the reason. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “Thank you. Was there anything else?” She didn’t sound as if she fully accepted my apology, which was okay. I hadn’t expected her to.

  “I was hoping we could talk,” I said. “Do you have a few minutes?”

  She sighed dramatically. “I was going to go out for a walk. I suppose you can join me if you’d like.”

  “Great! Where?”

  “There’s a nature trail not far from here. Do you know it?”

  No, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. “Sure.”

  “I’ll be there.” She hung up.

  After a quick Google, I learned that Pine Hills did indeed have a nature trail called the Squirrel’s Trail. It was only a couple of miles from Ted and Bettfast, tucked away past a golf course and a few large, private houses.

  “I’ll be back soon!” I called to Misfit as I gathered my keys and purse. He didn’t come running to see me off. I left the house, figuring that I would definitely need to get him something soon. I missed having him twined around my legs at every step.

  I drove to the trail quickly, afraid Lyric would get started without me. If she did, there was no way I’d catch up to her, let alone find her, and I wasn’t going to stand around the parking lot waiting for her to finish.

  Thankfully, she was still stretching when I pulled into the lot. A big squirrel with the word “Trail” written stylishly along its tail made up the sign, which stood next to the entrance. There were quite a lot of cars here, most of them of the expensive variety. Apparently, the Squirrel’s Trail was where the rich folk of Pine Hills went for their exercise.

  The smell of pine and water hit me the moment I opened my car door. I sucked in a deep breath, which was a mistake. My nose started itching immediately, warning me there were quite a few flowers out here as well. I barely refrained from sneezing as I started across the lot.

  Lyric was dressed in running shorts and a tight, stretchy shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. I, on the other hand, was wearing a regular pair of shorts, the kind with actual pockets, and a T-shirt. Thankfully, I’d been smart enough to put on tennis shoes, rather than flip-flops, though it had been a near thing. I wasn’t exactly on speaking terms with exercise.

  She gave me a quick once-over, grimaced, and then started for the start of the trail. “We can talk while we walk,” she said. “Do try to keep up.”

  I hurried after her, already worried this was going to be a really bad idea. I normally didn’t spend much time working out, and while walking wasn’t as strenuous as running or lifting weights, I had a feeling I was going to struggle. Lyric walked with her arms pumping, in quick, determined strides that were just this side of a run. I sort of flopped my arms and dragged my feet as I moved.

  I panted up next to her, only slightly disconcerted by the spongy feel of the track. What did they make these things out of? Old tires? “Thanks for taking the time to talk to me.”

  She nodded, but didn’t speak.

  I took that as an invitation to talk. “How well do you know Jacques Kenway?” I asked.

  “Jacques?” she shrugged. “We’re acquaintances.”

  “You aren’t dating?”

  She shot a glance at me. “No.” She sounded offended. “Why would you think that?”

  “The rumor mill,” I said. “I heard someone was visiting you in your room at the bed-and-breakfast. A man. And since Jacques is good-looking . . .” It was my turn to shrug.

  Lyric’s nose wrinkled. “I don’t think so. Jacques might be a pleasure to look at, but his personality leaves a lot to be desired.”

  “You have no interest in him?”

  “None.” She shuddered. “I don’t even know why you’d think I’d have anything to do with him. He isn’t my type.”

  We rounded a corner and passed two other power-walkers, who both nodded to Lyric and gave me a pitying look. I was panting, and seriously struggling to keep up with the much fitter woman.

  “If it wasn’t Jacques, who was visiting you?”

  “First off, I don’t know how that is any business of yours.” Lyric stepped around a branch that had fallen into the trail, and pressed on. “And secondly, even if it was Jacques, that doesn’t mean we are dating. Men and women can share the same space without being an item, you know?”

  I frowned, and then grimaced as my
legs started barking at me. “So, it was Jacques?”

  Lyric, either frustrated by my questions or because she was taking pity on me, stopped. My hands immediately found my knees as I gasped for air. She’d said she was going for a walk, but what we had just done was a long way from a walk in my book.

  “If you must know, we were discussing a movie,” she said.

  “The one you came here about?”

  “No, another one. Jacques thinks he can get me a role in it. We were running lines so that when I get back, I can ace my audition. He knows what the director looks for in his actresses.”

  I thought back to when I’d seen her at Geraldo’s. “Was he the one you were supposed to meet the other night, when you were with Trey and Sage?”

  She nodded.

  “He stood you up?”

  “It wasn’t a date,” she said, biting off each word. “We were going to discuss the movie. Trey and Sage are having something of a dry spell too.” She looked embarrassed to admit she was struggling to find work, but pressed on. “Since we were all in town together for this stupid wedding, I thought it might be a good idea if we all got together. Jacques, apparently, decided it wasn’t as important as the rest of us believed.”

  “What about Vince Conner?”

  “What about him?”

  “Was he invited?”

  Something came across Lyric’s face then, something I couldn’t pinpoint. Finally, she answered with a simple, “No.”

  We stepped aside as a group of joggers ran past. They were sweating, but didn’t look anywhere close to slowing down. Lyric watched them go, and then looked at me, as if asking why I couldn’t do the same.

  “No one seems to have a lot to do with Vince,” I said, refusing to give in to the challenge. If she was willing to stand here in the shade of the pine trees, I was all for it. It was going to be struggle enough to get back to my car without my legs falling off.

  “He’s . . . different,” she said. “I like him, don’t get me wrong, but he’s a little awkward.”

  “He seemed pretty interested in you when we first met.” Vince had been practically drooling, though Lyric hadn’t seemed to notice.

  Her eyes narrowed at me. “I don’t like what you’re implying. Just because I talk to a man doesn’t mean we are sleeping together.”