by Amy Vansant
Emily winced, embarrassed she’d worn her insecurities so brazenly.
“Sure,” she said. “I love cake.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emily met Tessa for lunch the following day. She needed to tell her about Greta and the emails she’d read on Sebastian’s phone.
“What do you think?” she asked after spilling the story of Greta’s and Sebastian’s lingering involvement and her own spying techniques.
“You’re reading his emails?” she asked.
“Uh huh. I know. It’s awful. I feel horrible about it. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Tess nodded. “Well, my first thought is, if he goes back to Heidi, then he was never yours to begin with.”
“Greta,” corrected Emily. “Not Heidi.”
Tessa rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
Tessa stabbed her salad. Emily watched her eat. She couldn’t figure out how people ate salads for meals. It was like eating air. Unless you added a ton of dressing, and then you might as well have had a bowl of ice cream.
“Okay, I get what you’re saying, in theory,” Emily said. “But you don’t know Sebastian like I do. He’s not good at change.”
“Ah, so you know him. After observing him in the wild for a few months.”
Emily nodded.
Tessa stirred her ice tea and stared at Emily. Emily suspected her friend had moved on to making mental grocery lists or daydreaming about bringing rival lawyers to tears in court.
“Hello?” asked Emily.
“I’m mulling,” said Tessa. “So you think he’ll go back to...”
“No. I really don’t think he’ll go back to her. But I could see him putting us on hold until he got his life straightened out, and I don’t want to be put on hold.”
“So unlike you to be impatient.”
“I know, right?”
“But... Don’t you think that might be the best thing? For him to get free and clear and then you guys can do things right?”
“No. Look, I didn’t ask you to lunch to have you talk sense to me. I asked you here to plot Greta’s destruction.”
“Oh,” said Tessa leaning back in her chair, visibly relieved. “My bad. That does sound like more fun.”
“I wonder if they stole her handbag,” Emily mumbled before taking a bite from her turkey sandwich.
“What?”
“She was in the bar the other day yapping about her new super-expensive purse. She said Sebastian bought it for her, but he says he didn’t. Anyway, she told Sebastian she was mugged, but...”
“You’re saying she made up a thief?”
“She probably did... But if it was real I—”
Emily stopped, mid-thought.
“Wait a second,” she said. “In that email I read on Sebastian’s phone, Greta said the robber hurt her knee and stole her wallet...”
“So he was after her expensive purse.”
“That’s just it. She said he stole her wallet. If you were going to slam into someone, knock them over and rob them, would you take the time to take their wallet out of their expensive purse?”
“Maybe she was holding on to the handbag,” said Tessa. “Maybe the wallet fell out? Maybe the handbag was stolen, but wallet was faster to type? Or maybe you could just find a guy without a girlfriend making her way through drama school?”
“Maybe...” Emily said. “Or maybe if you’re going to fake a robbery, you don’t want to have to throw away your brand new purse to do it. Maybe she was buying a new wallet anyway.”
“To match the purse, naturally. I always fake having my wallet stolen before buying a new one. Doesn’t everyone?”
“And purse is shorter to type than wallet,” added Emily. “So there.”
“Touché, Sherlock.”
Emily scowled. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re not taking this seriously.”
Tessa offered an exaggeratedly sweet grin.
“I wish I knew if she still had her license,” said Emily under her breath. “Then I’d know if her wallet was really robbed or the contents just moved into the new wallet.”
Tessa made disapproving clucking noises with her tongue.
“Frankly, I think you and Greta both have issues and Sebastian should run screaming until he finds a sane girl.”
“Again, I’m going to have to ask you to please stop being so logical,” said Emily. She sighed. “It’s all just too he said/she said. Anything I say to Sebastian about Greta makes me look psychotic and spiteful.”
“Unlike you reading his email...” said Tessa. “...and flat out being psychotic and spiteful...”
“Shut up.”
“Seriously, relationships are not supposed to be this hard.”
“You have been absolutely no help, you and all your common sense. I was hoping you could help me hatch a dastardly plan.”
“Unless you want to sue her for being in love and not quietly fading away, I’m afraid I’m no help.”
“She’s not in love!” Emily wailed. Several people swiveled their gazes toward their table. Emily cleared her throat and began again at a less screechy pitch.
“She’s not in love,” she whispered, leaning toward Tessa. “I’m in love. She just doesn’t want to be alone while she’s moving on to the next guy.”
Tessa shrugged. “Maybe. Who can say other than Greta?”
Emily sighed. “Shut up. I have to go. Sebastian invited me to his niece’s birthday party this afternoon. That’s got to be a good sign, right?”
“Maybe. Or he’s a genius at getting extra gifts for his niece.”
“Oh jeez, a gift!” Emily stood. “Holy hell, what do six-year-old girls want nowadays?”
“iPhones.”
“Seriously?”
“I wish I was kidding,” said Tessa.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emily sat in her car outside the suburban home of Sebastian’s brother and his family.
What am I doing here?
She felt both excited and idiotic. Sebastian had asked her to a family gathering, which had to be a good sign, but Sebastian didn’t take her to the family gathering. He was planning to stay at his brother’s house that night, so he’d suggested separate cars.
Emily sat in her car, staring at Sebastian’s brother’s house, watching people with brightly packaged gifts arrive and disappear inside.
She felt like a stalker. Funny time for that to bother her.
Emily didn’t see Sebastian’s truck and he was already half an hour late. She felt inside her purse, only to find she’d forgotten her phone. Stupid. Sebastian might already be inside, wondering where she was. Inside or late, he’d be unable to give her a status update.
Emily stared at her party gift, a science kit the woman at the toy store insisted a six-year-old couldn’t eat and choke on. Emily bought the kit because she didn’t approve of shoving pink, sparkly things at children just because they were girls, and because she wasn’t sure the child was a girl. She was 99.9% sure Sebastian said “niece” and not “nephew,” but at the last moment she’d panicked and bought unisex. She’d agonized over what the child already owned, what she liked, and the appropriateness of every toy. That she’d arrived with anything was a miracle.
Emily had no birthday wrapping paper. Already late, she’d wrapped the gift in reindeer paper, hoping no one would notice. The reindeer kind of looked like dogs. Then she rushed out of the house without her phone.
Emily decided she couldn’t wait any longer. She grabbed the gift and headed toward the house. She walked slowly, hoping to spot Sebastian’s truck along the way, but she arrived on the porch alone.
She knocked and waited. She heard music inside, so she knocked again, harder. Still nothing.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Emily mumbled. Being a stranger arriving alone was embarrassing enough; entering with a battering ram wouldn’t improve her first impressions.
Emily raised her fist to pound again.
A
matronly woman with short, brown hair opened the door and eyeballed Emily, her face betraying no emotion. Her gaze lifted to lock on Emily’s raised fist.
“Power to the people,” blurted Emily.
The woman squinted and tilted her head. Emily cleared her throat.
“Sorry, just kidding,” she said, lowering her hand and pointing to her own chest. “I’m...uh...I’m Emily?”
“Are you sure?” asked the woman.
The question confused Emily. It was hard to concentrate on details like her name when her brain was in a blender set to liquefy.
“Sebastian told me to meet him here?”
The woman’s stony demeanor melted into a warm smile of recognition. Emily felt a flush of relief.
“Oh Emily!” said the woman. “Come in! Sebastian has told us so much about you!”
He has?
“I’m Sebastian’s mother, Mariska,” she said, making room for Emily to enter. Emily stepped into a large living room. She could see through to the kitchen, where people stood holding red Solo cups and chatting.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking Mariska’s hand. “Is Sebastian here?”
“No. But I’m sure he will be. He called a little while ago to ask if you were here yet.”
“Oh good. I was starting to wonder if I had imagined him inviting me and I forgot my phone.”
“Here, I’ll take your gift.”
Emily handed Mariska the package. The woman turned it over, inspecting the paper.
“Christmas paper?”
Emily winced. “It’s all I had. I’m sorry. They kind of look like dogs. Horny dogs.”
Emily slapped her hand to her mouth. “I mean dogs with horns,” she said, scrambling. “Not horny dogs. Horn-y dogs...”
“Ha!” said Mariska. “It’s darling! And they do look like little horned Datsun dogs!”
Emily opened her mouth to correct, “Dachshunds” but caught herself in time.
“I thought so... Or, I guess, I hoped so.”
Mariska put Emily’s present on a pile of others and led her to the kitchen. Emily felt herself growing nervous again, surrounded by people she didn’t know, the quasi-girlfriend of a missing man.
“Garrett, this is Emily,” said Mariska, putting her arm behind Emily and pushing her lightly toward a dark-haired man. “Emily, this is Sebastian’s brother, Garrett, the birthday girl’s father.”
“Hi,” she said, putting out a hand.
Garrett appeared to be sizing her up. She must have passed some initial review, because he switched his beer to his left hand, wiped his right on his pants, and shook her hand.
“Hey, nice to meet you!” he said in a booming voice. “You want something to drink?”
Oh yes for the love of everything holy please.
“Yes, please,” she said aloud.
“So where did you meet Sebastian?” asked Mariska as Garrett fetched a beer from the keg on the porch.
“Uh...” She realized telling Sebastian’s mother that they’d met at a bar would probably create a poor impression, but she couldn’t lie.
“Playing darts. My girlfriend took me to a dart night at a local bar downtown and there he was.”
“Really...”
“I don’t usually hang out in bars, so I guess it was lucky I was there that day.”
“He’s probably there all the time,” said Mariska, rolling her eyes. “So what do you do?”
Emily relaxed. The “we met in a bar” exchange had gone well, and Mariska’s welcoming demeanor put Emily at ease.
“I own a web design business,” she said.
“You make the Internet?”
Emily laughed. “Parts of it, I guess, yes.”
“And it is your company?”
Emily nodded.
“Oh my. Isn’t that wonderful,” said Mariska as Garrett returned with Emily’s beer. “Garrett, Emily owns her own company making websites.”
“Very cool,” said Garrett handing Emily her cup. “Hey, do you watch movies?”
Emily took a sip, resisting the urge to guzzle the thing to quell her nerves.
“Movies?” she echoed, wiping foam from the tip of her nose. “Sure. A lot.”
“I’m trying to remember the name of a movie,” said Garrett. “Maybe you can help. Sebastian said you’re smart.”
“Hit me!” Emily loved trivia almost as much as she loved hearing that Sebastian had mentioned she was smart.
“So there’s this guy, he’s in prison I think, and he gets out and starts killing all these people. And he’s got a flame thrower.”
“A flame thrower?”
Garrett nodded. “Yeah, and he just starts killing all these people.”
“Oh Garrett,” said Mariska, shaking her head. “What kind of movie is that?”
“So he’s killing people with a flamethrower? I’m not a detective or anything, but flamethrowers seem like a conspicuous way to kill people,” said Emily. “Was it sci-fi? Like Alien?”
“No. And I don’t think he always uses a flamethrower.”
Emily was lost. “I don’t think I saw it.”
“No, it’s famous,” said Garrett. “I’m sure you did.”
“Any actors you can name?”
“You know, I can’t think of their names, but some of them were famous.”
“Was it in Vietnam?”
“No, it was in America. The West, I think, but not the old cowboy West.”
“Flamethrowing cowboys I’d remember,” Emily mumbled. “So is he a bad guy? Or a good guy seeking vengeance on the bad guys who killed his family or something like that?”
Garrett considered it for a moment. “I don’t know... I couldn’t decide if I liked him or not.”
In her mind, Emily threw aside the image of burning bodies and instead zeroed in on the flamethrower itself. The image was reminiscent of another object.
“Wait...” she said shaking a finger in the air. “Not a flamethrower...you mean like a pneumatic bolt shooter thing? Are you thinking No Country for Old Men? The ‘friendo’ dude?”
“Yes!” yelped Garrett. He slapped his thigh and pointed at Emily. “That’s it! Thank you!”
Emily beamed. Sebastian’s whole family made her feel like a superstar.
Garrett turned and screamed out to the porch. “Hey, Nicole, it was No Country for Old Men!”
A thought occurred to Emily. The smile faded from her lips.
“Wait,” she said. “Did you say you couldn’t decide if you liked him?”
“Yeah,” said Garrett, finishing his beer.
“You know he was a psychotic killer who killed just about everyone in the movie, including innocent people not involved in the plot at all.”
“Yeah, that guy. He was awesome.”
“He flipped a coin to decide whether he’d kill a convenience store clerk.”
Garrett’s face flooded with excitement. “Yeah, yeah! That guy!”
“And you couldn’t decide if you liked him or not?”
Garrett stared at Emily as if she spoke a language he didn’t understand.
“Yeah. So, anyway, thanks!” Garrett said, reanimating. “That was driving me crazy. I’ll take you out to meet Nicole.”
Emily looked at Mariska, but Garrett’s mother was scanning the room, happily sipping on a soda. She’d stopped listening to the conversation some time ago. Garrett’s adoration of psychotic murderers was passé.
Emily followed Garrett to the porch where he introduced her to his wife, Nicole, a curvy brunette wearing a baseball jersey. Emily shook Nicole’s hand and turned just in time to notice Sebastian making his way through the kitchen towards her.
“Hey,” he said, arriving at her side. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Sebastian leaned down as if he was going to kiss Emily, and then, glancing at his brother, turned the whole movement into a supportive pat on the shoulder.
“Yeah, nice going dude,” said Garrett. “She had to come in here and meet your
crazy family all by herself.”
Sebastian grimaced. “I am really sorry. Hey, I’m going to get a drink. Do you need anything? I’m breaking into the vodka.”
Emily nodded.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Bastian’s not a beer guy,” said Garrett.
“You’d never believe they were brothers,” said Nicole. “Sebastian’s sort of fancy and Gar is...” Nicole met eyes with her husband.
“A redneck,” said Garrett, finishing her sentence. “And proud of it.”
Nicole nodded. “See?”
Emily laughed and glanced toward Sebastian in the kitchen. His mother had cornered him by the counter. Mariska shot Emily a look and turned back to Sebastian.
“Looks like your mother is talking to Sebastian about me,” Emily said. “Hope it’s going well.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s all nice,” said Garrett.
“She didn’t like Greta at all,” said Nicole. “You’ll look good by comparison no matter what, so you’ve got that going for you.”
Emily’s gaze whipped towards Nicole. “Really?”
“Greta’s just miserable. Everything is all about her and she’s not friendly at all.”
Garrett shook his head. “Nope.”
“I think she wants him back,” Emily heard herself say. She couldn’t help it. It felt good to talk to people who knew Sebastian.
“Oh, whatever,” said Nicole. “She always ignores him and then suddenly throws herself at him. That’s how she rolls.”
“We were glad to hear he was done with her,” said Garrett.
“Not as much as me,” said Emily, laughing. “Though now I’m ninety percent sure she’s faking a knee injury to keep him from moving out.”
Emily looked away, mortified by her own comment. Garrett and Nicole were both so friendly and supportive she felt compelled to share her relationship burdens. She made herself promise to stop. One more drink and ten more minutes with Garrett and Nicole and she’d be lying on a sofa sharing how she thought eating her favorite meal, waffles and eggs, for every other meal as a kid had scarred her for life. At the thought, Emily tasted the mingled flavors of egg yolk and syrup and shuddered.
“You think Greta is faking an injury?” asked Nicole. “How did she hurt her knee?”
