Oh, shit, Holly. I didn’t. Should I go back? I think the bathroom door was open so I would have seen something.
Breathing a sigh, but nowhere near totally relieved, she responded, Yeah, you’re probably right. I left him a voicemail and a text. I’ll try his parents now.
As with their son, she hit another voicemail. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. McManus, this is Holly Moore. It’s Wednesday morning and I’m looking for Aiden. Can you please have him get in touch with me. Thanks. I hope you are both well.”
And now the waiting game begins.
She knew she’d be checking her phone incessantly ʼtil either she or Billy heard from him.
Sitting on a barstool in Castaway, Holly confessed to Billy and Maddie, “I am so worried about him. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I’ve left him so many messages that I feel like a stalker. Do you think we’ve made a huge mistake not reporting him missing to the police? I feel like we’re missing something.”
“Maybe he just needed a vacation and went someplace without cell service.” Maddie conjectured trying to put a positive spin on the situation and allay Holly’s fear.
“I feel so guilty. I had Pierce out here last weekend. I’m just so afraid that it really upset Aiden. I know when we were having dinner with my family at Maguire’s that Pierce went into the bar to get a beer, and now I’m wondering if something went down between the two of them that made Aiden leave.” Holly was wracked with guilt, her emotions slaughtering any positive thought in her overtired brain.
Maddie put a steaming mug on the bar in front of Holly. “Drink,” she ordered, in a motherly tone.
“What’s this?”
“Chamomile tea. It will help you feel a little calmer. Your nerves are frayed, Holly.”
When Billy walked away to serve a customer, Holly confided, “Maddie, I haven’t slept in three days. I am so worried that he drove off someplace remote and did something to himself and I know I should be doing more to find him. I just don’t know where to look or what to do. And on top of that, I have the worst PMS ever. I want to bite everyone’s heads off. I yelled at Natie this morning over nothing. He was doing this stupid grabbing boobies thing that the kids were doing in camp, and I just went crazy on him. And now I feel like crap about that, too. I shouldn’t have yelled at him.”
Maddie just shook her head. She had never seen dark circles under Holly’s eyes before. “There was nothing in his apartment that indicated where he might have gone?”
“I didn’t go in. Billy looked through some of the windows and said everything looked okay and that Aiden wasn’t in there.”
“But neither of you have been inside to see if there is any clue as to his whereabouts? Something he might have left.”
Holly shook her head.
“Before you call the police, you should go over there and look around. Maybe there’s something. A brochure for someplace or some directions he wrote down or a phone number. Maybe he’s having a tough time and checked himself in someplace. You really need to go over there.” When she saw Holly tense up, she added. “Take Billy with you. I’ll cover for him. If there’s anything that feels wrong to either of you, call the police immediately.”
“We have to stop for a second,” Holly told Billy on the walk over to Aiden’s place. “I can’t breathe.” Putting her hands on her knees, Holly took deep breaths to calm herself.
Rubbing her back, Billy tried to talk her down. “Just breathe, Holly. It’s going to be okay. For all we know, maybe he’s back and will answer the door and then we’ll give him hell. I really don’t think we’re going to find anything devastating.”
Nodding, Holly straightened up and slowly blew air out through her lips. As she looked at the surrounding houses, she realized they were already close to Aiden’s place and that she had no recollection of anything they had passed on their walk over there.
“Are you okay to go on?”
Again, Holly nodded.
“Maybe he was just afraid I was going to pummel his ass on the golf course and couldn’t take defeat. You know how competitive he can be. He hates losing. He’s an asshole to play poker with.” Billy tried to lighten the mood as they reached the house and followed the path around the side to Aiden’s entrance.
“Aiden, are you in there?” Billy knocked on the door hard. “Aiden, open up.”
When they were met by silence, he reached behind the terracotta planter and found the key. Trying one more time, he banged on the door, the sound reverberating. “Aiden, open the door.” When there was no response, he inserted the key in the lock. Pushing the door open, he once again called out Aiden’s name, before flicking on a light switch on the wall, as he stepped inside. “Hey Aiden,” he called out again.
Stepping in behind him, Holly scanned the studio. Nothing appeared to be out of place. His bed was made, there were no dishes in the sink, no clothes hanging on the backs of chairs, the place was spotless, which was typical of Aiden.
Holly pointed toward the bathroom, the door was ajar with a partial view, and Billy made his way over. “Aiden,” he said again as he inched the door fully open and flicked on the light. Stepping in, he took a deep breath, and said a silent prayer, before pulling open the shower curtain. The tub was empty. Aiden’s hair and bathing products neatly lining the tub’s edge.
Both Billy and Holly audibly sighed, the first wave of relief washing over them.
“The closet.” Holly said, pointing to a door along the wall. She turned away as Billy yanked open the door to the last place they hadn’t looked.
“That motherfucker,” Billy declared.
And Holly felt her heart sink. Oh God, no!
“Who the hell color coordinates their shit in their closet? That’s just plain weird. All his blues are together, all his whites. What a fucking girly-man. I’m gonna rip his ass over this one.” He laughed. “Who even fucking hangs up their clothes?”
Holly began to laugh, as tears streamed down her face and a second wave of relief washed over her. The worst of her fears had just been allayed. “He’s very organized. Between the Army and running restaurants, everything has its place.”
“Yeah, well, there’s a difference between organized and anal. When I see him, the dude’s gonna take some shit from me on this.” Billy closed the closet door.
“The dude’s going to take some shit from me, too.” Holly shook her head. Where the hell are you, Aiden?
“Holy shit, Holly, look over there.” Pointing across the room was the first of their answers.
They both walked over to a small, worn, wood corner table. Sitting on top of several magazines was a cell phone, plugged into a wall outlet next to the table.
“Is that his phone? Did he leave it here charging?”
Pulling out his own cell, Billy called Aiden’s number. They both jumped when the phone rang, its screen lighting up, even though that is what they were anticipating.
“So, maybe it’s just as simple as he left his cell phone on the charger and forgot it when he left for wherever he was going,” Holly surmised.
“Yeah. That definitely could be it.” Billy looked relieved. “And now it makes total sense why he wasn’t returning messages.”
They had both been so geared up to discover the absolute worst, that the possibility of their friend just forgetting his phone while it was charging, was something that hadn’t presented itself into the realm of thoughts that had been haunting them for several days.
“I wonder where he is.”
Holly just shrugged and shook her head. Looking over at the bed, she couldn’t help but think about the last time she was here — the storm inside the room had left more debris in its wake than the violent thunderstorm that swept across the island that night.
He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not. The childhood flower petal game played in her head.
Aiden, where are you?
Staring at the perfectly made bed, a large, spiral-bound notepad caught her eye. It felt out of place to Hol
ly, laying on the nightstand, askew, as if it had been haphazardly tossed there, defying the straight lines and right angles of everything else on the bed and nightstand. As she approached, Holly was surprised to see the manufacturer’s label Sketch.
Grabbing the sketchbook off the nightstand, she sat down on the edge of the bed. His side of the bed. As she ran her right hand over the cover, she felt as if opening it might be an intrusion Aiden wouldn’t want. But if he’s in trouble and this contains an answer to helping him, I’ll be mad at myself for leaving a stone unturned.
Gently, she opened the pad. The first page was blank, and she guessed that was so the drawings would not smear against the cover. The paper was thick and textured, a warm white in color versus the stark white of computer paper. Flipping the page, she gasped at what was before her eyes.
“What is it?” Billy asked.
“It’s a drawing. A rendering of a restaurant.”
Billy sat down next to Holly. “Wow. That’s really beautiful.” He studied the intricate pencil drawing. “I didn’t know Aiden could draw.”
“Neither did I.” She was shocked. How could she have been with the man for so long and not know he possessed such a fine talent.
Billy pointed to the corner. “He’s initialed it.”
There in broad, confident pencil strokes were the initials ASM. Aiden Shaun McManus.
“And these notes are definitely his handwriting,” Holly pointed out. Looking at the notes in Aiden’s distinctive hybrid of print and cursive.
The drawing clearly laid out his vision for his tapas restaurant. The entire length of one wall was a bar lined with barstools and set up for dining, the back of the bar ran to the ceiling with patches of exposed brick and a large window at the center giving patrons a view of the kitchen. The opposite wall of the restaurant appeared to house a glass wine cellar. The detail in the drawing was exquisite, down to potted palms placed throughout the main dining room. Hints of color were added sparingly, bringing the drawing to life.
Slowly she flipped the page and the next one was blank. Turning that, they came to the second drawing. The weathered cedar shingle outside of the building with the porch running the entire length.
“That’s the place on Bayberry,” Billy commented.
“Yes, the space where he wants to open his tapas bar.” He had added ceiling fans and palm trees to the porch. All the tables had little kerosene lamps. Again, this rendering was signed ASM.
The next drawing laid out the kitchen from prep area to the pass and included the deep freeze. Aiden had made notes about the foot traffic flow of staff in the kitchen.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Holly asked Billy.
He smiled. “I don’t know. What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking a man who has obviously invested a lot of time and thought in putting this together is someone who is hopeful. Someone with a plan. A guy who is looking toward the future.”
Billy nodded. “You’re absolutely right.” He stared at the picture for a moment and then asked, “Are there anymore?”
“I don’t know. Let’s see.” The next page was blank and so she turned it over.
The next drawing was the simplest of the renderings. Facing the entrance, it appeared the wood-paned double doors presently on the building had been replaced by what looked to be flat, distressed wood doors with small rectangular windows set high. The windows themselves were covered with ornate bars and Aiden had noted they were black wrought iron.
Above the entrance was a rectangular sign, the restaurant name appearing in thick, bold calligraphic-like letters. Acebo
Trying to control the corners of her lips from being drawn down by the quivering muscles of her chin, Holly was beyond holding it together.
“Is that a made-up word?”
Holly shook her head. “It’s Spanish.”
“What does it mean?” He looked up at her, but her eyes remained focused on the drawing.
“Holly. It means Holly.”
They both jumped at the sound of one of Holly’s tears going kamikaze and splatting on the paper in her lap.
“Holy shit.” Billy instinctually grabbed the pad, causing the tear to roll a little farther than its original landing spot, already blurring the restaurant name.
“Put it down and don’t touch it. We need to let it dry by itself,” she instructed.
“Damage is done. That was one big-assed tear.”
“Shit.” She looked at it. “Maybe after it dries, I can try to fix it with a pencil and eraser, but if we try and touch it now, it will smudge more.”
Billy looked at his watch. “I’ve gotta get back to Castaway.”
“I’m going to wait for this to dry. I’ll lock up and put the key back when I leave.”
“So, what should we do? Do you want to call the police, or should we wait out the weekend and if he’s not back on Monday, we’ll regroup?”
Holly nodded. “I think that’s a good idea. I mean, I could be wrong, but after being here and knowing he was probably charging his phone and forgot to grab it, and then seeing the drawings, I feel like he’s okay. AWOL, but okay.”
“I’ll text if I hear anything,” Billy promised, as he opened the door.
“Same here.” Holly got off the bed and locked the door after him and then went back to look at the Acebo drawing.
She felt herself get choked up again and stepped away, afraid another tear would go splat and do even more damage.
“Acebo? And you don’t love me? You are so full of, as you would say, malarkey, McManus. Who names their first restaurant after their ex? Umm, I’ll tell you. No one. No one names their business after their ex.” Stepping back to look at the rendering again, she shook her head and smiled. “Let me do this with you, Aiden. We should be building this dream together.”
Sitting back down on his side of the bed, she opened the nightstand drawer and immediately saw the tin of artist’s pencils and a green rectangular eraser. Pulling them out, she placed them on the table.
Grabbing her phone, she dialed his number and watched the phone across the room light up and ring, then waited for it to go to voicemail. “Message 973,” she began. “Well, maybe not quite that many, but it feels like it. I’m sitting on your bed right now. Yes, I’m on your bed. Again. I know, I know, you’re thinking I need to change the locks. Billy and I came over, because we were worried. And you weren’t returning calls. And I just wish I knew where you were and that you were okay.” She hung up and listened to his phone beep, alerting that there was a new voicemail.
Putting her phone down on the nightstand next to his pencils, the exhaustion following the adrenaline burst she’d had earlier was starting to settle in. As she leaned back against the pillows, the pervasive scent of Aiden comforted and calmed her in a way she hadn’t felt in days. Grabbing the top pillow and pulling it to her, she rolled onto her side, hugging the pillow as if her head was on his chest. I’ll just close my eyes for a second while the drawing dries.
She was disoriented when she heard her phone ringing and it took more than a moment to figure out where she was and where she had put her phone. It was Mia, but by the time she swiped the screen, she’d missed the call. It was 3:30 a.m.
Calling her right back, “Hey.”
“Are you okay? Where are you? I woke up and you weren’t here.”
“Yeah. Sorry. Billy and I came over to Aiden’s earlier to see if everything was okay. He’s not here. And I guess I fell asleep.”
“Any clue as to where he is?”
“No. But it looks like he was charging his phone and forgot it and that’s why he hasn’t been returning messages.”
“I’m glad you are okay. I had a panic moment when I realized you hadn’t come home.”
“I’m sorry. I just crashed out here. I didn’t mean to, I guess I’m just so emotionally fried, that I just passed out.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thank you. Sorry I worried you. I gue
ss I’ll just go back to sleep here and come home once it gets light out.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.”
Crawling back into Aiden’s side of the bed, Holly turned off the lights before snuggling into his pillow and falling into a deeper, more restful sleep than she’d had in days.
Stepping into his apartment, Aiden put down his leather duffel bag on the chair just inside the door and flipped on the light.
Immediately he tensed at the shock of finding someone in his space, in his bed. It took only a moment to realize that the someone was Holly, and she was fast asleep on his side of the bed, with his pillow hugged to her. Taking a moment to process what he was seeing, he consciously told himself to count to five.
One…this is a situation you were not expecting.
Two…not all unexpected situations are bad or hostile.
Three…this is not a situation that requires you to be on guard.
Four…correct response to this situation does not include anger or fear.
Five…dude, there’s a beautiful woman in your bed.
“Someone’s been sleeping in my bed.” He said aloud, with an amused look on his face. “Goldilocks.” He had always loved the way her hair fanned out when she slept. There’s an angel in my bed.
Closing the blinds to keep out the morning light, the room immediately darkened. Quietly, so as not to disturb his guest, he crossed the main room to the bathroom, splashed water on his face and brushed his teeth. He had dozed a little bit on the redeye, but not enough to feel rested.
He wondered what Holly was doing in his apartment and had she been there the whole time he was gone. Stripping down to his boxers, he lifted the covers, slipping onto the edge of his side of the bed, and moving her body with his toward the center. He carefully reached over her and grabbed a pillow from the other side of the bed.
Turning her head back to look at him, her eyes fluttered, “Aiden. You’re back. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. What are you doing here?”
Moore than a Feeling Page 22
