by ACF Bookens
I took a deep breath. Oh my goodness, he was going to break up with me. We were totally about to break up with each other – for different reasons but still . . . "Daniel, I came here to hear what you had to tell me, of course, but I also had something I needed to say. Maybe I could do that now?"
He squeezed my fingers and nodded.
"I think we need to break off our engagement." The words slipped out far more easily than I had imagined. "We just want different things in life, and while you are an amazing person, I don't think we're 'end game.'" I smiled as I said it, hoping he'd get the reference.
"Did you just use a Riverdale reference in your break-up speech?" Daniel said with a smirk. "That is impressive." He put both his hands over mine and grew serious. "But I agree. We are good as friends, but yeah, I sometimes feel like I'm holding you back, like you'd live bigger if I wasn't there. I don't want to hold you back, Harvey."
I swallowed hard and took a sip of the Cheerwine he'd ordered for me.
"But I don't want to feel guilty for wanting a simple life." He sat back and laughed. "A simple life on a TV show. I do realize how that sounds."
I laughed, too. "Yep, you and your Hollywood friends just kicking it by a bonfire. I can see it now."
"Well, not a bonfire, but maybe a barrel fire in the junkyard." He shoved a chip in his mouth and smiled at me. "So, we're okay?"
I sighed. "We are." I knew what I was going to say was about to sound so lame, but I meant it. "Friends, though, right? I don't want to lose that."
"Absolutely," he said, "and I saw tears in his eyes. Always."
"Oh good," I said with a wiggle, "because I need to see how they film that show. I mean is it scripted totally or some improv? Who writes the storylines, such as they are? Does everyone actually work there?"
"Slow your roll, woman. I'll get you on set soon." He grew quiet, then. "But I do have to ask one more thing of you, if that's okay."
The lump was back, but I nodded.
"I can't take Taco with me. The hours are too long, and they don't allow animals on the set. Would you take him?" I could hear the tightness in his voice as he spoke, and I knew this was so hard for him.
The tears poured down my cheeks as I slowly nodded. "I would be honored. And you'll come visit whenever you want, and when I get to do set visits, I'll sneak him in." I was crying so hard that I had to put my face in my hands.
Daniel reached over and grabbed my forearm in a tight squeeze. "Thank you, Harvey. He and Mayhem are besties, and I know he'll be happy with you, too."
I wiped the tears from my face with a napkin. "He will have a lot of women to contend with, you know, and Aslan will clearly have an issue with his presence."
"Oh, he's used to her, and I think, secretly, he's a ladies' man at heart. He'll eat up all that loving." Daniel's voice cracked, and I could tell he was trying to hold back tears himself.
I took another sip of my drink and said, "Do you want dinner?"
He shook his head. "Well, not unless you do. I'm happy to order something for you."
"No, thanks. I actually think I'd probably like to go now. You know?"
He stood and helped me into my jacket because he did know. He knew me, knew that the emotions were waiting there and would need more release soon. "Taco will be so glad to ride in the Scooby-Roo again."
"Oh, that reminds me," I said as I saw Daniel drop a twenty on the table, "can you keep the truck? I mean we never had it transferred to my name, and I would really like you to have it. Show those people in Damascus what a classy classic looks like." Daniel had bought me a truck a year or so ago, and while I loved it, I barely drove it because I walked most places in town. Daniel, however, adored that vehicle, and I wanted him to have it.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I bought it for you."
"I'm sure. Scooby and I are good," I said as I opened the door of my Subaru and cleared the passenger seat for Taco.
"Thank you," he said, "for everything." He hugged me tight and then walked quickly to his truck, where he climbed in and spent a few minutes with Taco while I warmed up the car.
Their goodbyes said, the two boys walked over, and Taco jumped into the passenger seat like he knew his girl Mayhem was waiting, and maybe he did. I never would quite understand what dogs knew, but I knew they understood far more than we often gave them credit for.
"Bye Harvey," Daniel said and kissed my cheek.
"Bye Daniel," I whispered as I handed him the engagement ring and pulled the door shut.
I watched him walk back to the truck and start it up, and I started my car and pulled out so that he'd know I was on my way. But then, once he had headed back toward the mainland, I pulled over in a gas station and let myself cry into Taco's ears for a while before I texted Mart. "Taco and I are on our way. Have the cheese doodles ready."
9
When I got home, Mart had started the fire, laid out a smorgasbord of junk food, cued up Making the Cut, and somehow procured a second dog bed to put beside Mayhem's near the fireplace. Taco came in, greeted Mayhem and Mart, and then curled up and was asleep on his new bed in less than five minutes.
I had no doubt he'd miss Daniel as the days passed – I would, too – but he'd spent enough nights here to be quite comfortable, obviously.
Mart handed me a glass of white wine and pointed out that she also had hot tea for later and then listened as I recounted my conversation with Daniel. When I was done, she said, "Well, it sounds like it went well. Not easy, but well."
I sighed. "Yeah. We were clearly on the same page, and while I still feel pretty sad, I also feel lighter. And I'm really happy for him." I meant it when I said, it too.
A series of images of Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn was carouseling across the screen, and I gestured toward the TV. "This is a perfect choice." Mart and I had begun watching the fashion show the week before, and we were both loving the clothes – for commentary, not as actual wardrobe – and the designers.
"Good. But first, I need to tell you about something that happened this evening." She sat up and put her wine glass on the coffee table. "That guy Davis came by the pizza table just after you left."
"Oh, did he say anything? I thought he was leaving town yesterday?" That's what he'd told Max and I when they'd begun discussions of the funeral. It turned out that they couldn't get everything arranged in time, so the service was going to be tomorrow. "Did he decide to stay for Lizzie's funeral?"
"Maybe. He didn't really say." Mart paused, like she was thinking about my question, but then went on with her story. "He wanted to know what the funds from our pizza sale were being used for specifically, and so I told him about NDRN. I guess I went on a little long because he basically interrupted me and said, 'So do they help people have money for prosthetics and stuff?'"
I furrowed my brow. "That's a really specific question, and a weird one if you were talking about the lobbying and legislation stuff."
"Exactly what I thought, too. I was talking about all the ways they try to change laws, and he piped up with that. And when I told him I didn't know but he could look on their website, he said, 'Okay, I'll do that.' And left."
"He didn't even buy any pizza?" From my years in fundraising, I knew that if someone stopped, they were already likely to give, and if they talked to you about the purpose of your fundraising, they were almost certain to give . . . unless of course they were turned off by what you told them about the organization or event for which you were raising money.
"Nope. Didn't even drop a dollar in the donations jar. Weird, huh?"
"Very." I wondered what had offended Davis enough that he'd had the gumption to leave abruptly. Maybe he was just too emotional because of his sorrow over Lizzie's death. Just seemed odd.
"But on the up side, we raised almost two-hundred-fifty dollars tonight, and Max had a full house, too."
My face must have shifted when Max's name came up because Mart said, "Do we need to talk about Max?"
I shook my head. "No, there will be ti
me for me to think about Max later. Just now, though, I want to be alone, to think about my life and what I want." I had come to that conclusion on the ride home. There was definitely something about Max, but I was smart enough to know that anything or anyone worth pursuing – I couldn't believe I was actually thinking of pursuing Max someday, but I was – was worth waiting to consider when I wasn't on the rebound. "But I am glad he had a full house. Good for him."
"Good for your mom's fundraiser, too. It was a fundraising night. Fifteen percent of all the sales from tonight are going to DNRN."
"Max Davies gave up fifteen percent of his profits?" I was incredulous, not just because my opinion of Max was only beginning to change but because I knew what that kind of donation could cost a small business.
"Not fifteen percent of his profits, Harvey. Fifteen percent of his gross. He probably went into the red tonight." Mart's face was serious. "But he was thrilled. I don't know that I'd ever seen him happier."
I stared at her for a minute and then swallowed hard. I wasn't arrogant enough to think that Max had done this kind thing to attract my attention, but it had . . . and I was definitely paying attention. Not taking action, but paying attention.
Mart patted my knee. "I thought you'd like to know that," she said, and then clicked play.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up the kind of tired that can only come after sadness. I was weary somewhere deep inside, even as my body felt rested, lighter even. I knew I'd done the right thing with Daniel, but it was still hard and sad.
Taco improved things immensely though. It was pretty fun to wake up to a basset hound nose against my neck . . . and then watch him bound across the frost-covered backyard to do his business. Mayhem was too precious to get her paws wet, so she peed just as close to the back door as she could, then scuttled back to the fire. Taco, however, took his time and came back only as the bacon Mart was cooking came off the griddle.
We all ate our bacon and then donned our coats and headed toward the store. Lizzie's funeral was at ten, and I wanted to be there. So Mart and I were going to do the opening of the shop and then, at his own gracious offer, leave Marcus and Rocky in charge, yet again, while we went to the services. It only felt right that I be there, given that I'd found her body and that I'd talked with her mom, but it also felt strange because I hadn't known her at all. Not when she was alive. I did feel like I had a sense of her now, given all the research and conversations we'd had. But still, it felt weird to not go and to go, too. It was a day of paradoxical emotions.
When we walked in and Max gestured for us to join him just behind Mrs. Leicht. I cringed. It felt intrusive, too much presence given the circumstances, but he was so adamant that Mart and I shared a glance and then headed that way. Mart took a step back to let me sit next to Max, and I rolled my eyes at her before sliding into the pew quickly. "Why are we sitting so close?" I whispered.
Max pointed toward Mrs. Leicht. "Her request."
I studied the purple tips on Mrs. Leicht's hair and pondered that information. Maybe we were the only people she knew here, or maybe she knew we were, in some ways, the only people Lizzie knew here. And that thought led me to another, which I whispered to Max, "Why is the funeral being held here?"
Max took a small notebook out of his pocket and began to write. Once again, I was given pause by his thoughtfulness. It was definitely better to write than to whisper in a quiet church before a person was laid to rest.
When he finished, he passed the notebook over to me, and I read. "I asked the same thing. I was pulling together a memorial when we didn’t know anything about Lizzie’s family, of course, but when Mrs. Leicht came, I had intended to help with arranging for the care of Lizzie's body here and with transportation back to Boston. But her mom and I talked, she said she wanted Lizzie Cassandra to be buried here."
I studied the note a minute and then, after passing it to Mart, looked at Max and gave him my most intentionally puzzled face. He shrugged and motioned for his notebook, but before we could continue our pantomimed and scribbled conversation, the minister came to the pulpit. She began by reading a passage from the Bible. "God is love. When we take up permanent residence in a life of love, we live in God and God lives in us. This way, love has the run of the house, becomes at home and mature in us." It was a beautiful verse, a reminder of what I believed about God and people . . . even though I didn't go to church often because I found it painful to see when love wasn't central there.
Here, in this space, though, when we were honoring the life of someone who, by all accounts, lived a life of love for her customers especially, it felt perfect, like God's self was there, loving us all.
The rest of the service was equally beautiful, and I left the church feeling more at peace, more settled than I had in days. The pastor hadn't known Lizzie, obviously, but she had spoken of the woman with such tenderness that it made me remember that we don't have to know someone to love them, love them well even.
Outside, we saw Tuck and Lu, and instinctively, all of us headed that way. Max and I had suspended our passing of notes, so we still hadn't landed on a reason that Mrs. Leicht had wanted the funeral here.
Mrs. Leicht was standing there, thanking each person who had come. We'd slipped out the side door to avoid the crowd, but I was a little sad to not have let her see us there. I thought about asking her why she wanted her daughter to be buried here but decided it wasn’t the time.
As I turned back to my friends, Tuck said, "Oh, I don’t know if I can handle this today."
I turned to follow his gaze and saw Davis wheeling toward us.
"You managed to stay for the funeral?" Max asked as she shook Davis's hand.
"I did." He glanced around our small circle. "Figured it was the least I could do. Pay my respects and all."
He sounded sincere, and he certainly looked like he was grieving. Dark circles under his eyes, a pale pallor to his pinkish skin. But I was still a little uneasy about him, about the way he had worked it out to be here when he had been so clear that he couldn't just a couple of days before.
I didn't have much time to ponder through my discomfort though because, just then, Effie walked up. "Hi Harvey. I thought I might see you here." Her eyes scanned the faces around me, resting for an extra second on Davis's before moving on.
If I was baffled about how Davis was able to be here for the funeral, I was absolutely stymied by why Effie was here at all. "Oh, hi Effie. Um, were you here for the funeral?" I looked around, trying to see if something else might have drawn her. Yard sale maybe. But there wasn't anything.
"I was." Her voice was calm and even. "I read about the murder in the paper and saw that her service was today. Since she was from Boston, too, I figured I could honor her with my presence. Thought maybe there wouldn't be many people there." She looked at the crowd of about thirty-five people still milling in the church. "Guess I didn't need to worry."
Lu said, "It was kind of you to come. Most of the people here came for the same reason. It's sort of an unspoken rule of the small town – make sure everyone knows they are loved, even after they die."
I sighed. She was right. Time and again, I'd seen the people of St. Marin's show up when their neighbors and the visitors to our town needed them. Just a couple of weeks ago, a young couple visiting from Arizona had been in a terrible car accident just outside of town, and both of them wound up in the hospital. The local quilting circle heard about their accident from one of their members who was a volunteer at the information desk there, and they took it upon themselves to meet the couple, find out who they could call, and then sit with them until their family could arrive. Even after the couple's parents had come down, the quilters brought them food every day of their hospital stay.
"Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one," Effie said. "Just wanted to say hello, Harvey. And thanks again for the book recommendations."
She turned to go, but Tuck stopped her with a light touch on the arm. "Actually, we were all about to go ge
t some lunch. Would you like to join us?" He looked from Effie to Davis.
Mart, Max, and I exchanged glances but said nothing. Tuck did few things spontaneously. He was a methodical man, so if he wanted lunch with two almost strangers, we were going to get lunch.
"I'll pull the truck around," Lu said, and I saw Davis's eyes go wide.
"She drives a food truck. Correction THE BEST food truck," I said. "Her tacos are amazing." For a split second, I felt a pang since Daniel and I had often shared Lu's tacos for lunch, but then, I pushed my mind and heart back to the present moment and tried to figure out Tuck's purpose as we moved toward the church's side lot, where Lu often set up to catch traffic to and from the nearby high school.
Inside, the church members would have set up a lunch for Mrs. Leicht and any guests who wanted to attend, and I could see that a lot of the folks who had come out for the funeral were headed in the side door for the meal. We didn't need to be there, especially if not going might mean we got some more clarity on Lizzie's murder. That seemed the only reason Tuck might have made his suggestion.
A large picnic table sat under trees at the back of the lot by the playground, and we all huddled close on them, trying to conserve body heat. Davis rolled to the end of the table and locked in his chair. He couldn't rub arms or legs with the rest of us, and I worried he might be very cold. But then he pulled a wool blanket out of a backpack on the back of his chair and tucked it around his legs. I wished I'd thought to do the same.
Effie sat opposite me, and Mart squeezed in beside me almost pushing Max out of the way to do so. I appreciated her efforts, although a tiny part of me was sad, too. Again, I forced my mind back to the topic at hand and focused. Why, exactly, did Tuck want Effie and Davis to stay for lunch?
As he brought over trays of the food Lu had premade for her lunch crowd, I got my answer. He set down a platter of enchiladas covered in queso and cheddar and said, "Davis, do you know, Effie? I mean, I know Boston is a big city, but maybe since you own such a popular restaurant?"
