by Danger Cove
She made no effort to stop the tears trailing down her porcelain cheeks. "Love makes us do strange things, Lilly. Sometimes what you have with someone is so perfect, you're certain it can't be true or last. Fear gnaws at you while waiting for something to destroy the happiness you've found. So instead of trusting in what you have together, you end up doing something that screws it all up." She turned to face me again. "I screwed up, and now I'm trying to make things right."
Guilt expanded in my throat, making it hard to breathe. She wasn't talking about me or my relationship with Tan, but her words hit home. I opened my mouth to try to speak to ask her how she had screwed up and, most importantly, if somehow it involved Rico. But before I could move enough of my vocal cords past the obstacle lump, a car pulled up, and Jonathan got out.
Allyson hastily wiped her cheeks, and a vibrant energy suddenly radiated from her. She waved. "Jonathan! Over here. Look who I found."
I wanted to correct her since, technically, I'd sought out and found her, but I was still trying to dissolve the emotions impeding my speech.
Jonathan took long strides until he was standing in front of both of us. "Lilly, so good to see you."
The feeling wasn't mutual, but now was not the time to be crabby. I'd prove I could play nice in the proverbial sandbox. "Nice to see you again so soon. Have you been enjoying our little town before you head back to the big city?"
He rubbed his hands together in excitement. "Actually, I was visiting Agnes."
This guy was unbelievable. "Seriously?"
Jonathan put his hands over his heart as if I'd wounded him with my words. Drama king. "I heard she wasn't feeling well. I feared it might have been something she ate, so I felt a responsibility to check on her."
"She's suffering from shock since her husband died yesterday morning within hours of eating your food." Admittedly, that might have been just a touch out of line, but this guy was not only standing on my last nerve, he was jumping up and down on it.
Allyson stepped in between Jonathan and me before I could continue giving him a small piece of my mind. "You know perfectly well that bastard didn't die from eating Jonathan's food."
I didn't know that, but was pretty sure it hadn't been brunch that had killed him, especially since we'd all eaten essentially the same food. I wasn't going to concede that to her though. "What did he die from then?"
"I…I mean…how am I supposed to know that?"
I shrugged. "You tell me. Since you have such confidence in what didn't kill him, doesn't that mean you must know what did?"
"Ladies, ladies. This is neither the time nor the place." He turned to Allyson and gently clasped her arms with his hands. "Despite the tragedy yesterday, this is going to be a good day."
He smiled one of those smiles I'd heard Mandi refer to as a "panty dropper." I did not ask where she'd learned that expression.
Allyson was soaking the smile up, and I'd bet my next paycheck that her panties were starting to slip. "You're right, Jonathan. Just being here with you again—in your arms—makes everything better."
He kissed her on the forehead before turning to me. "Agnes hasn't committed completely, but she indicated she was leaning toward investing in my restaurant. I hope you'll do the same."
The ocean breeze kicked up and wafted our way. Jonathan's scent joined it and carried to my nose a familiar scent—the Italian herb combination I'd experienced in the greenhouse with Drake. Both Jonathan and Allyson stared expectantly at me, waiting for some type of response. My problem with sharing my decline of his offer was that Rico had said no to Jonathan, and now he was dead.
I didn't want to make the same mistake.
CHAPTER NINE
I arrived at my apartment at Hazlitt Heights about fifteen minutes after saying good-bye to Jonathan and Allyson. My farewell had to include a promise to give him an answer about both the investment and my coming to work for him. Of course, he wanted the answer in the next twenty-four hours or so.
My couch beckoned, but I opted instead for the beanbag chair that had stayed with me on my journey from New York to Seattle. It was the only piece of furniture—if one could call a beanbag chair furniture—that I'd brought with me every step of the way. As weird as it sounded, after Gram died, it was the one constant in my life. Okay, not weird…pathetic, but true.
The room disappeared behind my closed eyelids as I contemplated whether or not I should take Jonathan up on his offer. Funny how twenty-four hours could swing your position from one side to the other. With Hope returning and Tan possibly leaving, that left Mandi and Freddie. I adored them both, but how long until they got on with their lives? Both were taking online classes, so eventually the day would come when they would move on to bigger and better things. I didn't blame them. Not one bit. For me though, this was my bigger and better thing.
The big question was: without Tan, would it continue to feel the same? And I couldn't ignore the question niggling at the back of my brain. If Jonathan had killed Rico, then he probably wasn't someone I wanted to pull up roots for and follow to California. Never good to work for psychopathic killers, regardless of how harmless they seemed otherwise.
Allyson's words repeated in my head on an annoying audio loop. Was I intentionally sabotaging a good thing believing it was going to blow up in my face anyway? I didn't think so. I'd shied away from romantic notions of love and relationships long before I met Tanner. He was the first person I'd even allowed myself to venture into that territory with since the faker from high school. And now he wanted more. I flopped back into a reclined position on the beanbag to contemplate another decision I had to make soon. What to get Tan for graduation.
Things were rocky between us right now, no doubt, but I still wanted to get him something. He'd worked so hard. He deserved the recognition and to be rewarded for his efforts even if we couldn't reconcile our differences.
Fear gripped my heart in an icy vice. What if he was still upset and didn't want any kind of gift from me at all? Ugh, I hated feeling this way. Was it wrong to want everything to go back to the way it was before I even had the kind of money that would allow me to buy a house? If I were living paycheck to paycheck, my apartment would be the only option I could afford. Of course, that wouldn't negate the idea of Tan and me moving in together. Could I find a way to overcome my fear of commitment? Or, as Allyson had predicted, would I keep stomping on any happiness I might be able to find? Before I could continue my merry-go-round of self-incrimination and doubt, my cell phone dinged with an incoming email.
Grateful for the distraction, I glanced down at the small screen to see the message was from All About You Investigative Services. Corny name, but I'd heard good things about them, and their Angie's List segment gave them an A+ rating. Not wanting to read the results of Drake's background check on my phone, I managed to pull my sorry butt up from my sad-sack position and head to the bedroom where my laptop was set up.
A few minutes later, I was scanning the report. The vice grip around my heart released its hold long enough to aim lower before resuming a death grip, now on my stomach. Drake had an arrest on his record. My brain kicked in and sent a message to the claw around my stomach to ease up. Lots of people got arrested. Didn't mean they were guilty or had a conviction on their record. The tequila bottle in the greenhouse made me think it could've been something as simple as public intoxication. Serious, but not as gut wrenching as a DUI, theft, or other termination-worthy offenses. Still, I needed to know what path of criminal negligence his arrest placed him on before I made a decision about whether he could remain in the employ of Smugglers' Tavern.
I considered replying to the investigator who'd completed the report that simply telling me someone was arrested, but not sharing the details of the transgression, didn't qualify as all about the person. I guess for twenty dollars how much could you really expect? I could ask Drake, but because my internal lie detector still needed fine-tuning, I decided to add to my Cinnamon Sugar Bakery tab instead and texted Vernon, a
sking him for details. I mean, he was already checking on Rico for me. What was one more, right? I might have to pull out a whole cake for this one, but it would be worth it. If Drake was a problem, I'd need to have him dealt with before Hope returned.
Vernon's reply that he'd looked into it was accompanied by an emoji with rolling eyes. My guess was he'd probably meant to send the little guy that represents being not amused, but as someone new to the emoji world, Vernon was still learning. Or…maybe he did mean to roll his eyes at me. Either way, I was happy for his help. I texted back a thank-you accompanied by lots of smiley and other funny faces. It was so high school, but if it made him chuckle, shake his head at me, and get me the information, I could live with that.
With that accomplished, I checked the time. Just a little after noon, and I was already exhausted. A nap might be the most productive use of my time. Sure there were things like grocery shopping, taking my bike in for a check, reviewing the paper Tan gave me for houses, and any other number of things normal people did on their day off. But, hey, I'd never claimed to be normal.
Instead, I crawled under the quilt my great-grandmother had made me and called my mom. After several rings, she answered in a groggy voice, "Baby? Is everything okay?"
Shitzu! I forgot for a moment that my mom wouldn't fall under the normal category either. Actually, she lived so far outside the norm for moms, it would take her a day by train to get there. "I'm sorry, Mom. Did I wake you?"
"Just dozing. We had a late show last night, and then there was some kind of problem with packing up the equipment. Personally, I think Brock needs to fire the roadies and get some new ones." She sounded a little more alert as she relayed what constituted a problem in her world.
"Isn't that something your new manager should take care of?" Since their former manager had been murdered after one of their shows last Thanksgiving, the band had been in a rebuild phase.
"I'm not sure how long she is going to work out."
I didn't even need to see my mother's face to realize the green-eyed jealousy monster had taken over. If the woman was a looker at all, I was sure she wouldn't last. My mother didn't mind sharing Brock with his legions of adoring fans as long as the stage separated them. But one-on-one as a member of the team, she wasn't going to stand for that. I chuckled at her response. "I can't believe you even allowed them to hire someone with double-X chromosomes or double Ds."
Harmony laughed at my comment. "I've missed you. How are you? How's Tanner? Am I going to be a gramma anytime soon?"
I closed my eyes against the onslaught of emotion her words prompted—some good, some bad. I wanted to be a mother…someday, but not any day soon. "Very unlikely."
"You know my grandmother biological clock is ticking."
"That's not a thing."
She laughed. "But it is to me."
"Does that mean you'll come visit more?" It was worth a shot, plus I was curious what her answer would be.
"Maybe. You know the band is going for a new sound, one you helped inspire, as I recall."
Her statement made me sit up straight. "What do you mean?"
"Remember the day you listened to Tommy and Johnny playing an unplugged set at Ocean View?"
I nodded even though she couldn't see. Though I didn't normally like the type of music the band played, I'd enjoyed that impromptu jam session. "I remember. It was a nice mellow sound with a great beat."
"Well, Johnny talked to Brock, and they decided to do an album that showcases their softer side. We sent you a demo. Did you get it?"
Moment of truth. I had received it, but not listened to it yet. "I hope to get to that today. I've been a little busy with everything at the tavern."
"Well, I hope you like it. There's even a song on there that he dedicated to you. Times are changing, Lilly. We may even find a permanent gig on the West Coast. We'll still tour a couple times a year because…well, that's in our blood. A consistent booking close to you, though, would be ideal."
It did sound ideal. I'd never lived close to my parents…ever. After the drop-off to Gram when I was only a few months old, I hadn't laid eyes on them until about nine months ago. The same nomadic roots that were alive in my parents lived in me as well. I think that was why I had trouble committing to a house. Apartments were temporary, houses much harder to pick up and leave. "I would like that very much."
"I'm sorry, baby. I have to go. I can hear Brock yelling, and it sounds like trouble is brewing. Can we talk later?"
"Sure, Mom. Give the old man a hug for me." I smiled thinking of the first time I'd called Brock that. He'd not been a big fan of the nickname, but tolerated it, as he knew I did it in fun.
"Will do. Love you."
"Love you too."
I disconnected the call, and even though I didn't get to talk to my mother about my problems, somehow I felt a little better after hearing her voice. I retrieved the CD they'd sent me and put it in the player before crawling under the quilt again. The first song was the one they'd named after me. I closed my eyes and let the soft beat, guitar strums, and bass line soothe some of the tension of the last twenty-four hours away. I recognized the djembe drum, as it was the same that Johnny had played that afternoon on the porch. As much as I hated to admit it, I really liked this new sound. And not just because I might have had a little something to do with it. I put the CD on repeat and fell asleep to the new sounds of The Barking Spiders.
The ringing of my phone woke me a couple hours later. Caller ID revealed it was Bree calling. "Hello?" It worried me that she was calling, especially since we'd just chatted recently. I also noticed a text from Mandi asking what I had going on this evening.
"What are you doing right now?" Her voice was so low that it made it hard for me to understand her in my sleep-induced haze.
"What? Sorry. I just woke up from a nap."
"Then you must be hungry."
"Umm, okay. Sure." I had no idea where she was going with this, but I'd learned to play along where she was concerned. There was generally a method to her madness.
"Why don't you casually stop by in about an hour. They should be headed out to Seattle by then."
"Who? What? Why?"
Bree laughed. "Do you always ask this many questions?"
"As a matter of fact, yes. I also want to ask if I can bring Mandi with me. She wanted to hang out this evening."
"Of course you can bring Mandi. As for your other questions, let me answer it this way. This has to do with something interesting I learned about Chef Jonathan."
"I don't understand. Why can't you just tell me?" Patience was not one of my greater virtues. To be honest, which was high on my virtue list, patience didn't even rank in the top ten.
"Because, my dear friend, this is something you need to taste to believe."
CHAPTER TEN
Bree wouldn't provide any further details, a fact I found very annoying. Thankfully, my nap had recharged my batteries, and I managed to keep my sarcasm and snark from coming out too much during my conversation with her. I texted Mandi to see if she wanted to join me. Her excitement about the Monday evening plans were expressed through multiple emojis…some I didn't even recognize.
We met downstairs by the bike rack. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to hang out with me," Mandi began as we unlocked our bikes.
I stopped my activity and looked at my best friend. "Why would you think that? I'm sorry I didn't reply to your text sooner. I was sleeping."
A curtain of red hair fell across her face as she lowered her head. "I might've been a little hard on you about Tanner yesterday evening."
Not wanting her to think I was upset at her for one second longer, I closed the distance between us and pulled her into a good old-fashioned hug. "Nonsense. You and Tan are friends, and you're looking out for him. I get that."
"But you're my friend too."
This was true. She was in a tough spot, caught between two stubborn best friends. Alright, one reasonable and one stubborn friend. No sense in denyi
ng the truth. I separated us so she could see the sincerity on my face as I sought to reassure her. "We'll figure this out. I would never make you choose between us or put you in the middle. Regardless of what happens between Tanner and me, we're all adults, and we're going to act like it." Besides, if he moves and I leave, the entire situation will be irrelevant.
My words reassured her—glad that worked for one of us.
Mandi nodded. "We should get going. We don't want to keep Bree waiting." Her blue eyes sparkled. "I love that we're going on this adventure together."
We mounted our bikes and headed away from the apartment complex we both called home. I wasn't sure a bike ride to the Ocean View Bed & Breakfast qualified as an adventure, but either way I'd be spending the evening with my girlfriends and not thinking about Tanner, so that worked for me.
I pedaled hard—uphill, for the record—with Mandi matching me in speed and stamina. We made it there in pretty good time. The parking lot was empty, except for one car. Good, that meant there shouldn't be anyone around when Bree performed her big reveal. It had better be a very big reveal for all the cloak-and-dagger routine she was putting us through.
I knocked as we entered the front door. Not sure why since it wasn't a private home, but it still felt appropriate. "Bree? We're here."
"Come on back. I'm in the kitchen."
We made our way to the back of the house where there was a kitchen that looked like it belonged on the front page of one of those home décor magazines. Stainless-steel appliances, granite countertops, and white cabinets adorned the spacious room. The number of windows in the kitchen offered a bounty of natural light up until the sun set in the early evening. The fact that there was this amazing kitchen that rarely got used made me feel better about never using the appliances gathering dust in the same area in my apartment. Besides trouble finding us, that was another thing Bree and I had in common—our noticeable lack of culinary skills accompanied by a distinct lack of desire to follow in the footsteps of Betty Crocker or Martha Stewart.
