“No sense sugarcoatin’ the facts, darlin’. I am Harry and I am homeless,” he’d told me.
“Gotta go,” I whispered to Pickles. “Customer on deck.”
“He’s not a cussomer,” Pickles whispered. “He’s my brudder.”
That explained the familiar eyes. And the gorgeous dark hair.
“I’m not here!” Pickles whispered vehemently, shaking her head.
I walked to the counter, trying to act casual. I didn’t know why Pickles was hiding from Lucas, but there was a girl code to uphold. If a sister wanted to hide, I had to help her out.
As Lucas approached, I tried not to notice how good he made a plain T-shirt and jeans look. Yeah, we were becoming good friends, but my heart still sped up around him. But all I had to do was picture Heather to quash my palpitations.
“Hey, Lucas. What’ll it be? Chocolate milk?”
He shot me his sexiest grin. “Triple-shot cappuccino. Extra dry. But I don’t think you’ve achieved level three on the Bella skills barometer, Shaker Girl,” he teased. “I’d better make it myself.”
“Those are fighting words, Martinez. Come on, give me a chance.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Somebody’s feisty today. All right. Show me what ya got.”
Ha. If he only knew what I’d like to show—
A loud crash echoed around the store, followed by the sound of hundreds of tiny bouncing beads skittering across the wooden floor.
“What the—” Lucas spun toward the noise. A tiny dark head popped up, then back down.
“Pickles? What did you do? What are you doing in here?” Lucas barked. He was next to her in a flash. I was right behind him.
Her frightened face made me step protectively between them. “It’s okay. It was an accident. I’ll clean it up.” I had no idea how I was going to retrieve all those beads, but I’d figure that out later.
The tea drinkers set their mugs on the table and left quickly.
“You knew she was in here?” Lucas looked surprised and slightly pissed off.
I crossed my arms defensively. “Yes, of course.” I glanced down at the tiny girl sandwiched next to me. “Necklace-making one-oh-one. Today was our first class.”
Pickles stuck out her tongue at her brother.
Lucas leaned back on his heels, his narrowed eyes taking us both in. “Well, pardon me, ladies.” He leaned over and righted the table. “I thought my little sister was helping Charlie organize socks by color. Like she promised.” He shot her a dark look. “She forgot to tell me she had other plans.”
“Lucas, don’t be mad,” I pleaded. She was so adorable I didn’t want her to be in trouble. “She’s fine. We were having a great time together.”
He looked at me doubtfully, pinning me with those hypnotic eyes.
“Really,” I insisted. “Pickles and I have a lot in common.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I told him. “It’s girl stuff.”
“Yeah,” agreed Pickles. “Girl stuff. Go ’way Lukie. I’m staying with my friend.”
Lukie was not amused. “You made a huge mess, Pickles. You need to help us clean it up.”
“I’ll help. You go.” Pickles fumed.
Choosing to steer clear of the sibling love fest, I knelt to pick up the scattered tools, and wires…and the beads…so many beads. Lucas whispered something in Pickles’ ear. She stomped to the other side of the store and plopped onto a couch, chubby arms folded over her chest, as she glared at her brother.
Lucas knelt next to me, looking contrite. “I’m sorry about the mess. And about Pickles being in here bothering you. She was supposed to stay in the shop.” He took a breath. “I didn’t mean to get angry. I just freaked out when I realized she was here with you and I didn’t even know it. If anything happened to her…”
“She’s great,” I said. “She can come in here anytime I’m working.” I paused. “Liz must love her, too.”
Lucas nodded. “Yeah, totally. I’m sure that’s why she snuck over here. Liz fills her up with cookies and hot chocolate.”
We piled my tools and wire on the table. “You make jewelry?” Lucas asked.
I nodded.
“Cool.” His gaze swept the floor. “This bead situation sucks. I’ll go get the broom.” He turned to glare at his sister. “Pickles, don’t move.”
She stuck out her tongue again. “You not my boss,” she said, still glaring. “I like Darcy more dan Heather.” She looked at me, and then turned a frowning gaze to her brother. “Why don’t you like Darcy instead? You could kiss her instead of Heather.”
“Pickles.” Lucas’s voice was low. “Don’t say another word.”
I stood frozen with embarrassment as I imagined Lucas sweeping me into a passionate kiss while Heather and Pickles looked on.
“Sorry, Darcy.” Lucas laughed and shook his head, keeping his eyes on his sister. “Sometimes she says stupid stuff. Don’t pay any attention to her.”
The idea of kissing me was stupid? I glared at him, too. “She’s a good kid, Lucas. Don’t call her stupid.” I turned away and stalked to the counter to make his crappucino.
Lucas went to sit with Pickles on the couch, talking to her in a low voice. She slid off the couch and walked over to me.
“Sorry for making a mess, Darcy,” she said, looking pitiful.
I handed her a chocolate chip cookie. “Accidents happen, sweetie. Maybe we can try again another day.”
Her face brightened as she bit into the cookie.
“I’m taking her back to Charlie’s,” Lucas said, coming up to take her by the hand. “I’ll be back to clean up the beads for you, but I can’t stay too long because I have to get to class.”
My hand was steady as I gave him his drink. “Don’t bother.”
He frowned. “Did I… Are you…upset with me?”
Pickles glared at him. She was clearly the smarter sibling.
I looked down to wipe the spotless counter. Think of Heather, I told myself. Goddess of beauty, lover of Lucas. And who was I? Niece of Charlie. Duster of shakers. The girl next door. Literally.
Of course what Pickles had said about him kissing me instead of Heather was stupid. So stupid that he’d laughed at the idea. I raised my eyes and let out a long breath. “It’s been a long week.”
He hesitated before speaking, as if holding something back. “You’re sure about the bead clean-up?”
“Positive.” I forced a smile.
Lucas and Pickles left, but as the door squeaked behind them, I heard her clear voice.
“I still like Darcy better dan Heather.”
Chapter Twelve
October 25
Dear Darcy,
My journey continues. Not sure when I’ll be back. Still following the Stones.
Love,
Dad
This one was postmarked Rolla, Missouri. “Greetings from the Middle of Everywhere.”
Rolla? More like the middle of nowhere.
“The Stones? He’s following the Rolling Stones?” I asked Toby. We leaned against the pillows on my bed. He stretched and yawned, then closed his eyes.
Dad’s card didn’t make any sense. Even if that ancient rock band was touring, they wouldn’t be playing in the middle of nowhere. But just in case, I googled it. Nope, not touring.
What was in Rolla that could possibly interest my dad? I looked at one of the town’s visitor websites. A university. Lots of outdoor activities and an abundance of trout streams. My dad hated fishing. I scrolled down to the bottom of the page and my breath caught.
“Stonehenge revisited.”
I clicked the link. Photos of a partial replica of the original Stonehenge filled the page. I skimmed the description. The henge was on the university campus, built by engineering students back in the 1980s. Holy shiz. Still following the Stones. I grabbed my cell and called Mom.
“Darcy,
what is it? I’m in the middle of showing a house. I’ll call you back.”
“Mom, I think I know what Dad’s doing. He’s chasing Stonehenge.”
There was a long pause. “What are you talking about?”
“His latest postcard, from Missouri. There’s a henge replica at a university there.” I ran down the stairs, nervous energy shooting through me like fireworks. “I bet we can find him. I’ll look online to see where the other replicas are.” I yanked open the pantry and grabbed a box of crackers.
“Darcy, you’re not making any sense. I need to go. We’ll talk later tonight.”
“But I—”
The call disconnected. Damn it. Why wouldn’t she listen to me? This was a huge freaking clue about what Dad was doing. I tore into the box of crackers. Toby padded into the kitchen and looked up at me with hopeful eyes.
“Fine, you greedy dog.” I grabbed the box of Scooby treats and tossed him a couple. “But this means no skipping our run tomorrow.” I was proud of myself that I’d resumed my goals. For a while I’d slacked off, especially on the mornings I found Mom passed out on the couch. But lately, on days I didn’t want to run, I heard Dad’s voice and his stupid quote about even the slowest runner still crossing the finish line.
Lame. But I still ran.
I spent the next hour scouring websites about Stonehenge replicas. They were all over the country. I found one in Ingram, Texas, which explained Dad’s first postcard. I needed to plot the henges on a map. Dad had a whole shelf full of atlases in his office.
Opening the office door, I looked around the room, feeling his absence more keenly here than anywhere else. I grabbed the biggest atlas and ran upstairs to my room, threw the oversized book on the bed, and opened to the U.S. map. Using a red pen, I starred all the states with henges. Kansas, Kentucky, Michigan. New Hampshire, Virginia, Washington.
How could I possibly figure out where he’d go next?
My phone alarm beeped and I realized I was due at Liz’s in an hour. I needed to leave now to catch the bus, since the Reaper guzzled so much gas and I was trying to save money.
The sleuthing would have to wait until later.
Sal called me as I waited at the bus stop. “You’re working tonight, right?”
“Yeah.” I couldn’t contain my excitement at the first hope I’d had in forever. “Sal, I think I found out something about my dad. I might know what he’s doing.”
“You’re kidding!” she exclaimed. “What?”
Bus exhaust fumes filled my nose. “I’ll have to call you later. It’s a long story.”
“I never see you anymore.” She sounded like she would be pouting, if she were a pouting kind of girl. “There’s a party tonight. You should come after work. You can tell me all about your clue, Dr. Watson.”
“Actually, the correct reference would be Sherlock.”
“Whatever, brainiac. Will you come to the party?”
The bus shuddered to a stop in front of me. “Maybe. Text me later.”
“Ciao.”
Liz untied her “Kiss me, I’m over-caffeinated” apron and hung it on a hook. She wore the necklace I’d made for her. She wore it often, and had been bugging me to make more jewelry to sell in the coffee shop, claiming that customers kept asking where they could buy a necklace like hers.
“You’re in charge, darling,” she said. “Time for Charlie and me to hit it.”
It was my first night to close the shop by myself. I’d logged enough time with Liz and enough solo afternoons that she’d decided I was ready. Still, she assured me, “Lucas will come over to help you lock up and make sure everything’s okay.”
My stomach tightened. I hadn’t seen him since the bead incident. I still felt a little hurt and embarrassed that he’d laughed at the idea of kissing me. Some tiny part of me still hoped that someday he’d see me in a kissable light, but more likely I was another sister to him, just taller and snarkier than Pickles.
“Do I really need his help?” I asked.
Liz raised an eyebrow. “Trouble in paradise?”
I blinked at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”
She packed up her tote bag, watching me curiously. “You two get along so well. I thought you’d be happy to have him swing by to help.”
“Uh, yeah.” I paused to breathe. Exhale stress. Inhale calm. “It’s fine if he helps. I just…just wanted to do it on my own. You know?”
She smiled at me and tossed a loopy, hand-knitted shawl around her shoulders. “I trust you completely, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I know you do, Liz. And thanks for asking Lucas to stop by. I’m sure he’ll be…helpful.”
She waved good-bye and zoomed out of the store like a whirlwind. Charlie met her out front and enveloped her in a hug. They waved to me and then disappeared into the night.
Lucas showed up about nine thirty. I glanced at the Eiffel Tower wall clock. “You’re early. We close at ten.” I was irritated that he was such a distraction, much as I tried to ignore his effect on me. I wanted to think about my Dad, and I was anxious to get home to look online for more henges. I’d already texted Sal that I wasn’t coming to the party. She was bummed, but she’d get over it.
Leaning against the counter, Lucas watched while I washed plates and cups. “I know when closing time is, Shaker Girl. But Charlie’s shop closes at nine, so I’ve got time to kill.” He grinned. “I thought I’d grace you with my company.”
I rolled my eyes. “Make yourself useful. Take out the trash. Sweep the floor. I’m still finding beads everywhere.”
His smile faded. “That sucks. You should’ve let me help clean up that day.”
“I’m kidding.” I narrowed my eyes. “But you should let Pickles come see me again for a jewelry lesson. We’d have fun.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you? You realize that little kids are terrorists in disguise? They just wait for the right opportunity, and then wham! They’ll take you right out.”
“Chicken,” I accused. “Afraid of your own sister?”
He wandered behind the counter and grabbed a dishtowel, then took a wet cup from my hand and dried it. I was surprised I wasn’t electrocuted by his fingers touching mine. He, of course, was completely unfazed.
“My sister is going to run her own army someday,” he said. “Meanwhile, she’s got me to boss around.”
I handed him another cup to dry. “You just have to know how to handle little kids,” I said. “They aren’t that complicated. The boys, especially, are easy to manage since they aren’t as smart. Even when they grow up.”
He flicked the towel at me and I jumped out of the way, laughing.
By the time ten o’clock rolled around, I’d forgiven him for not falling in love with me. Maybe it was better being friends. We probably had a lot more fun that way.
Lucas was in the alley taking out the trash when the front door swung open. Damn. I’d forgotten to flip over the closed sign and lock the door.
“Good evening.”
I looked up to see an older man in a tweed blazer and matching cap. He brushed snow off his shoulders and smiled at me. “The snow just started and I see you’re about to close. Can you make me a quick double-shot cappuccino, extra dry, and I’ll take it to go.” He looked around the café. “Where’s Liz tonight? She’s the best barista in town.”
“She left early.” I paused. He must be a regular, so I turned on the charm. “I’m Darcy. I started here a few weeks ago.”
“Ah. I’m Herbert. I’m sure you must be a fabulous barista, too, if you’re working for Liz.” He rocked back on his heels and waited for his drink, smiling like a kid at Disneyland.
Thanks to Lucas and his extra dry obsession, I wasn’t freaked out by Herbert’s order. I held the pitcher of milk under the steaming rod and cranked up the frother, releasing more steam. The milk bubbled noisily.
Would I be able to predict Dad’s route, if I mapped all
the henge towns? Could I figure out where he was going based on where he’d already been?
The steamer sounded like a train whistle, jarring me back to where I was, but not before the milk boiled over, scalding my hand.
“Damn!” I dropped the pitcher, hot milk spilling all over my shoes and the floor.
“What happened?” Herbert peeked over the counter, alarmed.
Tears burned in my eyes as the hot milk burned my skin. I ran to the sink to put my hand under cold water.
“Darcy? Are you all right?” Lucas was at my side, his hand on my shoulder. I looked up to see his beautiful eyes raking over me with concern.
I shivered at his touch and closed my eyes, dying of embarrassment. “I will be.” So stupid. My first screw-up in weeks and it happened when Lucas was there to witness it.
“She burned her hand,” said Herbert. “I’m not sure what happened. I just heard her yell and then she dropped the pitcher.”
Lucas leaned over the sink to look at my bright red skin. “That’s a bad burn. You might need to see a doctor.”
“What? No. Absolutely not.” This was mortifying. “It’s not a big deal.”
Herbert cleared his throat. “Any chance I could still get my cappuccino? Already paid for it, you know.”
Lucas glanced at Herbert, then at me. He rolled his eyes. “Sure,” he said, “but then we really need to close up.”
“Double shot, extra-dry crappucino,” I muttered to Lucas. His sideways smile stopped my heart.
He zoomed around like Super Barista, cleaning up the mess I’d made, preparing and handing Tweedy his drink in a few efficient moves, then escorting him to the door. Lucas locked the door behind him and flipped the open sign to closed.
“I can’t believe that guy,” he said, shutting off the overhead lights. Only a dim glow behind the counter remained.
My hand was raw and red. I turned off the faucet and wrapped a towel around it. “Me either. I wonder if he would’ve still wanted his drink if I’d chopped off a finger.”
Lucas laughed. “Probably. ‘Paid for it already, you know.’” He walked behind the counter and took my hand. “Let me see it,” he said softly.
How (Not) to Fall in Love Page 9
