No Less Days

by Amanda G. Stevens

  She and Jayde had much to bond them, if only he wasn’t too late.

  When the last customer of the moment filed out the door, Blaire finally looked farther than five feet in front of her, and their eyes met.

  A slow smile lit her face. “David Galloway.”

  He stood as she stepped out from behind the counter. “Blaire Famosa.”

  “So great to see you.” She shook his hand and then clasped it between hers, and the smile grew. “It’s been at least a year, hasn’t it?”

  “At least.” He toasted her with his paper cup. “Good coffee.”

  She gave a low laugh, a husky sound he’d forgotten. “I’m sure you didn’t drive two hours south for my coffee.”

  “I should have planned better. You might not have time for conversation today.”

  Proving it, another group bustled into the store, college kids with wrapped pastries from the bakery next door.

  “I can see the counter from here,” Blaire said. She didn’t sit, but neither did she look put out by his presence, and she didn’t believe in dissembling. “How have you been, David? I mean, I know your store’s doing well up there, but how are you?”

  “I’m well,” he said, and yes, it was true, though the last month had wrung him out in almost every way possible. “You?”

  Her smile faltered. “We said goodbye to Dad a few months ago. That wasn’t easy.”

  The words stilled his breath a moment. Only once he’d met Blaire’s father, in this very place, but the man had been forthright and distinguished, virtues reflected in his daughter. David could still feel the leathery grasp of the man’s hand and the gentle warmth of his smile as his cataract-whitened eyes looked past everyone in the store.

  “So you’re Blaire’s competition in the bookselling business.”

  “An illness?” David’s own voice brought him back to the present, hushed.

  “Unexpected,” Blaire said. “Just a kidney infection. We thought he’d be home from the hospital in a few days.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He should have known before now. He’d withdrawn more completely than he’d realized, adding bricks and mortar to the defenses inside, fearing to hurt again while those around him, closer to their graves with every breath, continued to hurt. Lord, forgive me.

  “Thank you,” Blaire said. She studied him a moment, maybe curious about the depth of his reaction. “Four months later, it’s still hard, but I’m doing well otherwise. Dad would be proud of how well the store’s done recently.”

  David nodded. “He would.”

  “So is this more than just an idle visit? You weren’t in the area?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “You’ve made me curious.”

  She was drawn away as several customers came to the counter at once—always the way of it—but she returned to him as soon as she was able.

  “First,” David said, “it looks as if you’ve not replaced your assistant yet.”

  “I did.”

  He exhaled hard and hoped she didn’t notice. His plan wasn’t going to work?

  “Twice. Let both of them go. The first couldn’t do simple math, including drive time. Was late by at least ten minutes every single day. The second was stealing books from me. Had access to the till but ignored the cash and smuggled out antique books instead, either for the thrill of the crime or because she thought the cash would be missed faster. She was wrong about that.”

  David gave her a slow nod. “I see.”

  “Are you scheming something?”

  “I’m no schemer, Blaire.”

  She gave a laugh. “I guess not. Well, come out with it already.”

  “I have an assistant for you.”

  “Oh?” Her eyebrows lifted with a hint of hope. “She’s going to school in Mt. Pleasant and working for me in Harbor Vale.”

  “Wow. That’s dedication—either to you or the school or both.”

  He left Chris out of it, of course, only told Blaire about Jayde’s geographical challenge and her need for permanent housing. The woman’s sharp eyes pinned him halfway through a story with obvious gaps, but she didn’t pry.

  “If you’re vouching for her, that’s good enough for me,” Blaire said when he finished. “She could start immediately?”

  He sighed. He’d miss Jayde’s work ethic. “You’re fifty miles closer to her school. It makes more sense for her to work for you.”

  “And I might have an apartment for her too.”

  “Indeed?”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him the way she always had when a less-than-current word slipped out of his mouth. Ah, more than a professional contact, Blaire was. A friend, one he’d missed without knowing it. A smile tugged his mouth.

  “It’s an over-the-garage apartment, owned by the mother of a friend of mine. She’s still competent to live alone, but her kids are concerned. What if she falls … you know. The board would be free, and Jayde would have no caretaker duties as such, but she’d be living with an elderly woman.”

  “I’ll ask her about it,” he said.

  “Have you talked to her about my hiring her?”

  He shrugged. “I figured that was pointless if you’d already hired someone else.”

  “Well, I’ll interview her, as much for her sake as mine. She might decide I’d be an intolerable boss.”

  David laughed. “Unlikely.”

  They talked another twenty minutes and were interrupted by customers three times. At that point, David said he’d let her get back to her fire sale. He tossed his empty cup in the trash and turned to find Blaire still standing there, watching him. He held his hand out to her.

  “Blaire. It was good to see you.”

  She shook his hand. “Maybe we could stay in touch this time.”

  “I’ll do better at that.”

  “I hope so.” She squeezed his hand and let go. “I’ll wait to hear from Jayde.”

  “Thank you.”

  “If she works out, I’ll owe you a dozen favors.”

  David went out to his Jeep and pulled away from the curb, and something loosened in his chest that he hadn’t known was coiled tight. It was only one step, contacting Blaire. Only one more step to act on Jayde’s behalf. Yet each felt as though he’d triumphed over himself. The enormity of such small actions proved how far he still had to go.

  “I’ll do it.” The brogue cloaked his words, now that he was alone. “Father, in Your kindness, teach me how to be part of them again.”

  David merged onto the highway and headed home for more sleep.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Tiana was on break when police officer Jacob Greene and his wee girls came into the store Monday afternoon. The girls scampered off to the children’s section the moment their father gave them permission to leave his side, but per his custom, Jacob lingered at the front for small talk. At the moment no one needed ringing up. David stepped from behind the counter, and they stood at an angle that allowed both of them to face the doors and make glancing eye contact when the conversation called for it. Habits of vigilance: no getting rid of them.

  “I saw the news, the body found behind Appleseed,” David said.

  Jacob nodded.

  “I don’t suppose you can tell me much.”

  “Not much.”

  “Is there anything at all to go on? I’m not asking what that might be—only, is the perpetrator likely to be caught?”

  “Keep your eyes open. Make sure your employees are careful when they leave after dark.”

  Answer enough. They didn’t know anything. Well, what could they know with the killer buried in the park preserve? If Colm had left fingerprints, they might match a cold case from fifty years ago, but that would only baffle the investigators more. The only danger in this scenario seemed to be the unknown gunman who may or may not want vengeance on them all.

  Jacob sighed. “Honestly, David, sometimes we never know why a man is killed. In a town like this, a tourist like the victim, it should be obviou
s. A confrontation on the street, an idiot mugger that went too far, something. Or if death came with him, we should be able to trace it back to where he came from.”

  “But sometimes you can’t,” David said. “Sometimes we can’t.”

  “It’s got to be frustrating.”

  “Yeah.” Jacob ran his hand over his crew cut. “There’s a celebrity-of-the-minute in town, a professional daredevil by the name of Zachary Wilson, and this is an odd place for him to turn up. We looked for a connection, but not even that gave us anything.”

  A finger of caution touched David’s spine between his shoulders. “Well, I can put that one to rest for you, anyway. Zac’s a friend.”

  “Visiting you?”

  “I think he wanted to sightsee the Great Lakes, but he’s stuck around to catch up.”

  “Good to know.”

  “As far as the rest of it goes, I’ll watch out for anything unsettling.”

  “I’d appreciate it. Sometimes an alert civilian is exactly what we need.”

  They continued to chat until Jacob’s girls came to the front with armloads, and he gave a mock groan.

  “Please, Daddy? All these.” The youngest hefted her stack of five picture books.

  “You wouldn’t make us put books back, would you, Dad?” The older girl, about nine, grinned as she showed him and David her finds—The Sign of the Beaver, The Black Stallion Mystery, a few Nancy Drew books, a beaten copy of Misty of Chincoteague with the original cover illustration by Wesley Dennis, and the hardcover edition of The Red Pony. Also illustrated by Wesley Dennis, looking innocuous in its slipcase. No reason Tiana would not have shelved it in the children’s section, given the back cover called it the children’s edition. “Ah, Dad …”

  David waited for Jacob’s eye contact. “Have you read much Steinbeck?”

  Jacob’s mouth twitched. “I shut off the Grapes of Wrath movie. Was bored.”

  “Well …” David motioned to the book at the top of the girl’s stack.

  “But I had to read Of Mice and Men in high school,” Jacob said, picking up The Red Pony. “I guess this is just as bleak?”

  “A young horse-loving reader will end up with a nightmare or two.”

  “I’ve read almost all the books by Marguerite Henry,” the girl said. “And Black Gold dies. So does the Godolphin Arabian, but not until he’s lived a full life.”

  “Elise.” Jacob set the book behind the counter on a discard stack. “I trust Mr. Galloway’s judgment where books are concerned. He’s read more books than I have.”

  Elise, that was her name. She’d been in David’s store dozens of times. He had to start paying attention to people again.

  “Just tell me, does the red pony die?” Elise shifted the weight of the books in her arms.

  “Do you really want me to tell you?” David said.

  She nodded hard. “Please.”

  “He does.”

  “Is it a true story?” Her eyes were wide, unblinking, waiting for the knowledge that no one in the room could grant her but David.

  “It’s not.”

  “Then why would the writer kill the horse? If he didn’t have to?”

  “That’s a fair question, Elise. Why do you think?”

  Her lips pursed. She looked down at the cover of Misty then back up at David. “I’m not sure. I have to think about it.”

  Warmth filled his chest. He gave her a firm nod. “An excellent answer. If you have ideas, let me know next time you come.”

  “Okay.”

  The rest of the books were purchased in short order. Jacob parted ways with a nod and a half smile. Two high cries of “Thanks, Mr. Galloway!” accompanied them out of the store.

  He turned at the sense of a presence behind him. Not a customer—Tiana. Her smile was broader than the circumstance called for.

  “What?” he said.

  “You’re not a bad teacher, Mr. Galloway.”

  He chuckled.

  She crossed the wood floor of the vestibule, and by the time she reached him, her smile had fallen away. She studied his face, and whatever she found there brought the smile back, but it was a softer version.

  “There’s possibility in your eyes now. When you look at me.”

  A month ago—a week ago—there’d been none, he knew. He tried to speak around the tightness in his throat.

  “It’s been a terrible week,” she said. “But I’m grateful for this piece of it.”

  “Tiana, I …”

  Her face crinkled. To be the cause of that confusion, possibly hurt … a knot formed in his stomach. But he had to be as honest as she’d told Jayde he was.

  “I’m …” He took her hand, and when she gave it a squeeze, he could go on. “You’re right, it’s there. The new … thing, between us.”

  “But?” she whispered.

  She already knew. He held her gaze. He would tell her in the words he’d avoided, when they talked of this before. “But I’m going to foul it up. Not because you aren’t worth it, but because …”

  Speak the words. Aye, all right.

  “It’s a fearsome thing.” He cleared his throat. “No, I’ll say it out. It makes me afraid.”

  “Do you mean the idea that we … someday?”

  “Not someday. Not an idea. The thing that’s already”—he thumped his fist on his chest—“here. For you.”

  “Thing, huh?” Her smile was gentle.

  “The … possibility. Your word is a good one.”

  “It’s okay, David.”

  “I want it to be, only—”

  “I don’t mean you don’t have to be scared. I mean it’s okay that you’re scared. You have every right to be.”

  He closed his eyes. She saw so much.

  “Are you ready to try anyway?” she said quietly.

  Am I? There was only one answer he wanted to give. “I’m ready.”

  He bent his head, and Tiana tipped hers up. Their lips met, sweet and slow. Her palm was soft on the two-day stubble of his cheek. As David deepened the kiss, her quiet sound of satisfaction stirred embers into fire. He drew back.

  “Tiana.” His voice was rough.

  He wanted to sweep her into his arms, feel the curves of her body against him. Women were works of art, every one of them, but especially the woman standing in front of him now with her hand curved in the crook between his neck and shoulder and her cheek pressed to his chest, practically inviting him to carry her to the break room, demonstrate how thorough a kiss could be, and then …

  He stepped back and walked around to stand behind the counter. Tiana’s brow furrowed, and he put up a hand as she moved to follow him.

  “A customer could walk in,” he said.

  “Let’s hope not.” She gave him a crooked smile that fed the heat between them.

  “No, love,” he said. “We ought to hope we’re flooded with a dozen customers, immediately.”

  Reluctant caution surfaced in her eyes. “You’re right.”

  They stood with the counter and uncertainty between them until he spread his hands on the laminate surface and cleared his throat.

  “Tiana, I …”

  John Russell had been loved at least once, perhaps twice. But he’d taken this new name to help him build new walls. David Galloway was never supposed to be loved.

  Her mouth turned down at his pause. Such vulnerability in her eyes.

  “I don’t want to wrong you. Or cause you hurt.”

  The bell above the door jangled, making both of them jolt. A man walked in, nodded to them, and meandered back to the books.

  “All I’m asking is that you don’t give up,” she said. “We’re going to hurt each other. But we’re going to keep trying. Okay?”

  David nodded, his heart brimming over with more than he could say.

  Love? Will You truly give me love again? A bird long asleep in his soul opened its eyes and gave a quiet trill. Perhaps in time, it could relearn to sing.

  TWENTY-NINE

  This
time, when he walked out to his Jeep, his instincts weren’t blunted by two nearly sleepless nights. He lifted his hand in a good night to Tiana, didn’t move until her car had disappeared down the street.

  He wasn’t unarmed tonight, not after being shot in the head, but maybe he wouldn’t need to defend himself. He got into his vehicle without being ambushed by a gunslinger or anyone else.

  He sat for a moment with the phone in his hand. He didn’t need help exactly, but perhaps he did need another perspective.

  He scrolled through his contacts, his thumb freezing for a moment when it ran over Colm’s name, and selected his two recipients for a new group text. Then he sent it: WE NEED TO TALK. CONFERENCE CALL?

  Simon responded a minute later. NOW?

  PLEASE.

  Nothing came from either of them for nearly ten minutes, long enough for David to reach home. He was unlocking the door when his phone pinged in his pocket. This time Simon’s text came only to him.

  ANYTHING FROM ZAC?

  NO, David texted back.

  Almost immediately a call lit his phone.

  “Hey,” David said.

  “He’s not going to respond.”

  “Or he didn’t see the messages yet.”

  “Or that. But he’s … look, it’s just a hunch. But I’ve known him since before there were automobiles, so it’s a strong hunch. Anyway, I take it this is about our fellow longevite.”

  “It is.”

  “And you have thoughts?”

  “Mostly I have concern. We need to find him. Where are you now?”

  “Home.”

  “Florida?”