by Melinda Metz
“I think so.” She owed him—them—time. This was a beautiful spot, a romantic spot on the beach, the perfect place to find out if their relationship was worth trying to rebuild. “What do you—” No, she ordered herself. Don’t do it. Just because you’re with Caleb don’t start dithering and asking him to decide everything. “Let’s go on the Pacific Plunge!”
Great. That’s what she’d come up with? She’d gone on a carousel a few times and that’s it. Her parents—or was it really only her mom with her dad going along?—thought amusement park rides were too dangerous. And that one? It went straight up, then straight down, with people screaming all the way. She didn’t want to go on anything that made people scream. Maybe she should pick something a little less crazy. The Ferris wheel maybe?
“Doesn’t seem like your kind of thing. How about I win you a teddy at the ring toss instead?” Caleb suggested.
Irritation bubbled up inside her. “This is me not being weak or wishy-washy. I make one decision without consulting you and you’re already wanting me to change back to the old me.”
“You want to go on the Plunge, we’ll go,” Caleb said. “Let’s get tickets.”
As they walked to the ticket booth, Briony spotted a food vendor. “I’m going to get a corn dog.” Avocado toast was more her style. She stuck to a pretty healthy diet. But tonight, she was going for new things. “Want anything?” she asked.
“We just ate a nice dinner,” Caleb protested.
“I know. This isn’t dinner. It’s junk.” She grinned at him, feeling the shaky, panicky feeling begin to evaporate and a wild recklessness taking its place.
“And they call it junk for a reason.”
“I’m not planning to live on it. But we’re at the boardwalk.” Briony bought herself a corn dog, then she saw an Icee stand. Icees were pure sugar—and she wanted one. She made herself a mix of sour apple, lemonade, blueberry, and cherry, every flavor glowing with artificial color and not really looking like something meant for ingestion. She took a sip. A-maz-ing. There might have been a little forbidden-fruit factor, but still.
She strolled back over to Caleb and joined the ticket booth line. Briony studied the prices. “Let’s get wristbands. It’ll be cheaper if we’re going on more than a couple things.”
“Are we going on more than a couple things?” Caleb asked.
Briony felt a pang of conscience. This was his vacation. He should have a say in what they did. But no one asked him to come. And she’d had a miserable day. She wanted to have some fun. Without being judged for it. “I want to try everything!” Not so much, but she was not turning back. Maybe the Plunge would be like the Icee. The drink looked noxious but turned out to be delicious. The Plunge looked petrifying but might turn out to be . . . only somewhat terrifying.
“Two bands,” Caleb told the teenage girl behind the counter.
Briony took a bite of her corn dog. “There should be more food on sticks. I think I need a caramel apple. I wonder if they make deep-fried caramel apples? Because deep frying did wonderful things to this hot dog.” She sucked down some more of her Icee. She was feeling a little manic. Could the sugar be hitting her that hard already?
“I recently read that men should limit themselves to nine teaspoons of sugar a day, and women should time themselves to six,” Caleb commented.
“Way to be a buzzkill.” She took another hit of Icee. “Am I right?” she asked the cashier. The girl looked at her like she was crazy. “You too,” Briony told her.
“What’s going on with you?” Caleb asked, handing her one of the wristbands.
“Nothing. I’m just having fun. Fun, ever heard of it? The question is what’s going on with you?” She started for the Plunge, walking fast. He didn’t answer, just stayed at her side. She stopped abruptly at a trash can. “I can’t bring this on the ride.” She took the last few bites of the corn dog and tossed the stick, then pulled the lid off her 32-ounce Icee. It was still about three-fourths full. She brought it to her mouth, tilted her head back, and gulped, then slammed the cup into the trash. “Two points!” she cried.
About two seconds later, she got brain freeze powerful enough that she wanted to sink down to her knees, but she got moving again, joining the line for the ride. She was having fun, dammit, and a headache, a head-busting headache, wasn’t going to stop her. It wouldn’t last long.
From above came the shrieks of people plummeting straight down to the ground on the ride. Shrieking with joy, Briony told herself. Sheer joy. She didn’t look up.
When it was time for her and Caleb to take seats in the gondola, that stupid little voice in her head started chanting, Mistake, mistake, mistake. Three teenage boys took the remaining seats. Briony looked at the line. Most of the people waiting were teenagers. Teenagers had no concept of mortality. That’s the only reason they could think of this as fun!
She almost bolted, but the restraints locked in place. Good. She’d feel like a failure if she got off now.
Mistake, mistake, mistake! the little voice shouted as the gondola started to rise. Briony realized she was gripping the bar in front of her with both hands.
Caleb reached out and gave her clenched fingers a squeeze. “Don’t worry. These rides are braked with either compressed air or permanent magnets.”
She’d always liked how competent he was, how he was one of those guys who knew how things worked. But she didn’t want a lecture during her first real amusement park ride. She deliberately loosened her fingers and looked at the view stretching out beneath her. The ocean sparkled in the moonlight. She—
The ride came to an abrupt stop. She couldn’t prevent herself from grabbing onto the bar again. Then, whoosh! The gondola was hurtling down. She was in free fall! And a shriek was coming out of her throat. It really was a shriek of joy! Joy and a little bit of terror.
“That was a complete rush!” she exclaimed as they climbed out of their seats.
“This is such a first-world idea of entertainment,” Caleb said. “Tricking your body into producing adrenaline, because our lives are so safe.”
“Buzzkill,” Briony muttered, almost, but not quite, under her breath. She didn’t think she’d ever used that expression before tonight.
“Briony, you realize that you’re trying to pick a fight with me, don’t you?” Caleb asked, his green eyes serious.
“What I’m doing is trying to have a good time.” And trying to pick a fight with him, the little voice commented. “What you’re doing is trying to make me feel guilty by bringing up third-world countries and recommended sugar usage,” she added.
“I was making conversation,” Caleb protested. “I was trying to stay away from talking about, huh, why you slept with someone less than a week after we were supposed to get married.”
“You said it was nothing, a fling, a stress reaction.” They were getting some curious looks from the people nearby, but she didn’t care.
“I was trying to be understanding, and I do get it. I don’t like it, but I get it,” Caleb answered, his tone extremely calm. “But, so you know, being left at the altar wasn’t a stress-free experience for me, and I didn’t go out and take someone to bed to deal with it.”
“Of course you didn’t! You’re perfect! Too perfect to drink an Icee one night just for fun. Too perfect to eat a corn dog.”
“You’re making up reasons to push me away. You don’t really care if I don’t feel like eating junk.”
“I’m riding the Scrambler next,” Briony announced as she started for the ride. “You’re welcome to come,” she added over her shoulder. “See? Not pushing you away!”
* * *
Mac trotted down the street. It was past dinnertime, and he was ready for his num nums. That’s what Jamie called them sometimes.
Soon he’d head home for some food, but there were a few more places he needed to stop. One of the women who liked to pet him was already waiting outside the front door of the first. “Hello, you handsome creature,” she blah-blahed, then b
ent down to give him scratchies.
When the door opened, the woman took a step back. If Mac hadn’t been fast, he’d have ended up with a kink in his tail from the pointy heel of her shoe. “How can you sleep wearing that?” she blah-blahed at the man. “Your sweat suits are bad enough. Those pajamas could cause blindness. I may need to go get my eclipse glasses.”
Mac slipped inside as the humans continued talking. They wouldn’t need to talk so much if they had working noses.
“I got ’em at the thrift store,” the man answered as he let the woman in.
“Doubtless. If I had them, I’d certainly have given them to a thrift store,” she commented.
Mac was surprised to see lots and lots of toysies on the living room floor. He sprang on the closest paper ball and gave it a double whack.
“You should try one of the thrifts sometime. They have lots of beige clothes, too,” the man said. “I know that’s the only color you like.”
“Your eyes have clearly already been damaged. My cardigan is sage. My blouse pistachio. And my slacks are ash gray.” She looked over at Mac. “The way he’s playing is adorable. Just watching is like an infusion of pure joy. Now, tell me how you’re feeling.”
“Everything bad that went in has now come out. Plus some good stuff,” he answered.
Mac noticed that the smell of both humans was changing as they stood together. It wasn’t that they smelled happier exactly, but they smelled better. A little like Jamie and David when they’d been apart and came back together. And a little like something about to go kaboom. Maybe they should get some playtime in. He thwacked a paper ball at the woman. It ran over the toe of her shoe. She ignored it.
That was not acceptable. He took the paw to three more balls, one after the other. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!
The woman laughed. “All right, you win!” She kicked one of the balls toward him. It didn’t go far. “I’m better at throwing.” She picked up the ball. “Early drafts of so-called poems, I assume,” she said to the man.
“Don’t read that!” he burst out.
“I wasn’t planning to, but now I’m intrigued.” She began smoothing the paper out. Clearly, she did not understand how to play. Mac demonstrated by shooting another paper ball at her. Thwack!
She didn’t even glance at it. She stared at the flattened piece of paper, which wasn’t even a toy anymore. “A sonnet? I’m impressed. I didn’t know you ever attemp—” She stopped mid-blah-blah. “Is this about me?”
The man’s smell sharpened with anxiety, and an emotion Mac couldn’t identify. It was sort of like when Diogee wanted a bite of pizza and wasn’t sure he’d be given one. If Mac really wanted pizza, he just waited for the right moment and jumped on the table.
“Is it?” she repeated.
This man usually talked a lot. But this time he just nodded.
CHAPTER 17
“You,” Nate said when he saw MacGyver curled up on Gib’s recliner. “You’re the cause of all my problems, you know that?”
“That’s my buddy you’re talking to. He’s been keeping me company all day.” The cat moved to the arm of the chair while Gib sat down, then moved onto his lap. “He left a few times, but not for long. What’s your beef with him?”
“Nothing. Not his fault,” Nate muttered. “How’re you doing? Do you need anything? I have soup I can heat up for you.” He gestured to the rolling cooler he’d been taking from place to place as he checked up on everyone who’d gotten sick.
“Nah, I’m good. Hope brought dinner around earlier.” He looked down at Mac. “Wait. What kind of soup?”
“Chicken or vegetable broth. Nothing that will upset your stomach.”
“Chicken.” He scratched Mac under the chin. “You feel like some chicken soup, cat?”
“I’m not serving soup to that—” Nate got a grip. If he heated up soup for Mac, maybe Gib would have a bowl, and getting some more liquids in him would be good. “On it.”
“Before you leave. But sit for a minute.”
Nate sank down on the couch. It had been a long one. Gib was the last person he needed to see before he called it a day. Although he should probably go back to his office. He needed to work on a speech for the meeting Eliza was getting together.
“You look worse than I feel. Maybe I should be the one making you soup,” Gib commented.
“I’m fine.” Except that his hangover headache hadn’t completely gone away and he still felt queasy.
“Like hell you are,” Gib answered. “You’re not going to be fine until you find whoever’s sabotaging the place. We both know the food poisoning has to be part of it.”
“Yeah. Too close to the ventilation system and the treadmill to be anything else,” Nate admitted. “You didn’t see anything unusual when you were at brunch, did you?”
“I’ve been keeping an eye out whenever I’m over at the community center, but everything seemed normal. No guests I hadn’t seen before. Regular servers. Archie going from table to table, so the women could coo over his injury.” Gib’s mouth twisted with disgust at the memory, making Nate sure Peggy had been one of those women.
“I saw Peggy on my rounds,” he said, since he was sure Gib would want to know. “She’s feeling much better. She said she didn’t each much at brunch, because she’d had some oatmeal first thing when she got up. She just wanted the company.”
Gib snorted. “The company.”
“She also said your buddy over there paid her a visit. Which reminds me.” Nate pulled a key chain out of his pocket. “He brought her this, and she asked me to give it back.” Mac gave a huff as he handed it over to Gib.
“How’d she know it was mine?”
“From the picture.” The chain’s fob was a picture of his grandson and granddaughter dressed up as M&M’s for Halloween encased in Lucite.
“Surprised she recognized them.”
“The way you show off pictures?”
“You want a beer or something? You can fetch whatever you want out of the fridge.”
Nate groaned. “Do not speak that word in my presence.” Gib laughed, then pressed his hand to his head with a wince. “You need some aspirin?” Nate asked.
“Think we both could use some. On the kitchen counter.”
Nate walked into the kitchen. “Water okay? Or I have some ginger ale in the cooler. It’s good for settling your stomach.”
“Water,” Gib answered. “Did you and Mac’s keeper go out drinking last night? She came over this afternoon, wasn’t looking so hot, either. Maybe that’s why she didn’t stop back by.”
Nate returned and handed Gib the water and pills. He’d already taken his. “You were expecting her?”
“She said she’d come stop over later and check on me. Maybe she sent Mac in her place.”
“Briony’s the kind of person who does whatever she wants whenever she feels like it,” Nate answered. “Maybe something better came up.”
Gib raised his eyebrows. “You think she had nothing better to do this afternoon than check up on a bunch of people she barely knows?”
Nate shrugged. “I can’t explain her.”
“What happened?” Gib asked. “And don’t say ‘nothing,’ because I’m old, not stupid.”
It was completely inappropriate to talk to a resident about his personal life. Of course, it was completely inappropriate to talk to a resident about sabotage at The Gardens, too. And Nate could use someone to talk to. LeeAnne would listen, but she had enough to deal with.
“It turns out she has a fiancé.”
“What the ever-loving hell?”
“Had, I mean.” Although he was out here and they were “spending some time alone.” So maybe had would be back to has. Maybe it already was. Nate still didn’t get how the guy could be so okay with Briony having sex with someone else. “She left him at the altar the day before she came out here. That day she came over to get Mac, that was two days after she was supposed to get married. Anyway, we, uh, hooked up. Then he showed up. And
she acted like there was no reason she should have mentioned him, since she was only going to be out here for a few weeks and we both knew it wasn’t anything serious between us.” Nate raked his hands through his hair. “And I should not be talking about this to you. It’s unprofessional.”
“Good thing. Professional is boring, and I have to get my excitement secondhand.”
“Since you won’t ask Peggy out,” Nate reminded him.
Gib ignored the comment. “What did you think was going on between you and the girl? You haven’t known her for long.”
“I know. It’s like I’ve turned into my crazy sister. She’s always going out on one date and thinking she’s in a relationship,” Nate burst out. “Not that I thought I was in a relationship with Briony. But I liked her.” There. He’d said it. “I’d started thinking I wanted to at least keep in touch after she went back home. See if it was something that would just fade or if . . . Doesn’t matter now.”
“Let me get this straight. She’s not engaged anymore. You like her—and it’s not like you’re coming in here every few days telling me that about some woman. What’s the harm in staying in touch? It fades, it fades. It doesn’t, that tells you something.”
“I was interested in that before I found out about the whole left-a-guy-at-the-altar thing. Who does that? And who sleeps with a new guy a few days later?”
Gib gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “I had a dog once. Loved the dog. Had to put him down. Thought I wouldn’t get a new one for at least a few years. Then the vet calls me up. Says he’s treating a pup who needs a home. It was only a month or so later, but bam. Had a new dog. And I was glad I did.”
Nate stared at him. “That has almost nothing to do with what we’re talking about. Her fiancé didn’t die.”
“What I’m saying is, she probably wasn’t looking for a new guy. But she met you when she met you.”
“And didn’t mention any of this.”
“She might have. He showed up before she did.”
“You have an answer for everything.” Nate was starting to feel a little guilty. He didn’t completely agree with Gib, but he didn’t need to have handled the situation the way he did. “There’s no point in talking about it anymore. We had a fight, and I basically called her a . . .” He hesitated, trying to think of a milder word. “A harlot.”
