“I really didn’t mean to upset you.” It was the truth. I’d put my foot in my mouth, and it was worse than any other time in recent memory. “Javi didn’t tell me about the accident. He wouldn’t. I was prying. I was being nosey.”
“Me too,” Kate spoke up. “Mrs. Martin, Lanai’s a great town. We wouldn’t try running you off, not even if the Bulldogs went oh-and-ten.”
“That’d never happen under Seth,” Calista said. “And for your information, I hit a deer the other night. I filed it with my insurance. Where’d you think I got those bruises you saw the other night? The seatbelt hurt me worse than the deer did in damage to the car.”
She had seen me looking.
“I had better get going,” Calista snipped. “Big important things going on at the hospital today. I’d say it was a pleasure running into you girls, but it wasn’t, was it?” With that, she turned and marched out of the coffee shop. The bell jingled loudly behind her.
“It probably is best to go to that wedding alone,” Kate mumbled from behind me. “You’re in it deep when Javi hears about this.”
She wasn’t kidding.
9
When Kate left, I dabbled on the blog. But it was no use. The blog post that I was supposed to be writing, one about the quiche from the weekend, wasn’t flowing through my fingertips. Writing is hard enough without distraction. I couldn’t do it with thoughts of Javi being mad at me buzzing through my brain.
Still, I had to work. Mister Netflix wasn’t paying his way. The easiest way to distract myself, and call it work, was to cook. But I had to make something that could go with the Quiche Lorraine from the weekend. After a quick look on the internet, I decided on a Mediterranean quiche. Then I headed for BF’s Curb Market, Lanai’s one stop shop for groceries.
All I really needed were a few more eggs, some feta cheese, and a pack of sun dried tomatoes.
Per usual, my little trip to the store was turning into a big one. The BOGO deals, the ice cream, the other cheeses aside from the feta, they were adding up. My biceps couldn’t take it any longer.
“Fancy seeing you here,” a familiar voice caught me off-guard as I returned to the front of the store to unload my basket into a shopping cart.
“Officer Clarke.”
“Kieran,” Kieran said.
“Right.” I smiled sheepishly. “You did say to call you that.”
“A few times, if I remember correctly. What’re you shopping for today? Cheese?” He inspected my cart. “And ice cream. If you buy some milk, it’s the trifecta. All the dairy goodness there is to offer.”
“Aside from sour cream, half and half, cottage cheese, cream cheese—”
“Right, aside from those. Obviously.”
“What are you shopping for today?” I asked him. He was in his uniform. I told the inner part of me that liked a man in uniform to pipe down. He’s ten years younger than you, Allie Treadwell. And you’ve got Javi.
But did I? I wasn’t sure.
“Oh, I’m on the weekly grocery run. Just got off duty. This is basically like my Friday. I work the morning shift. The early morning shift. And weekends.”
“Yuck.” I made a face. In theory, it was a cute face, depending on whether or not he thought I was cute. The more he talked, the more I thought he did.
“You’re sure you’re not like dating Detective Portillo—cause I swear he got a little defensive the other day, you know when all that stuff went down and we went for coffee.”
“I swear we’re not,” I said. If Kate was here, she’d have noticed my change in tone and demeanor. I wanted to date Javi.
“Good,” Kieran said hastily. “I mean, yeah, good. Um, I mean it’s good because I kinda wanted to know if you wanted to go get coffee again.”
“But you don’t like coffee.”
“That’s a true statement. I don’t. Not really. How about a drink, then?”
“I’m not much of a drinker,” I said. “I’m a total lightweight. So, I swore off doing it alone—or with new people. I pretty much only drink around my friend Kate.”
Kieran look flustered. He sighed. “You’re not making this easy on me, huh? Maybe dinner? I’m going to Wing Station tonight, if you’d care to join.”
I’d never written a review for Wing Station. It was one of those places where it was best not to. The rating would be low, and it wouldn’t be worth my time in email. My readers would still go there for the fifty cent wing specials. And the happy hour—all the red or white wine and pale beer you can drink.
“I think I’ll pass tonight,” I told him. “But maybe some other time.”
“Sure. Another time. Do you mind if I get your number?”
We exchanged information. I felt bad. I’d wanted to turn him down—I really did. But it turned into some in-between thing. I didn’t want to lead Kieran on, not when my heart was set on someone else.
I returned to the shopping. I bumped into Kieran a few more times around the aisles. I tried to smile politely, but I didn’t expect a trip to the grocery store to be this draining. And it took the best of me not to scrutinize his food choices. Are grown men supposed to eat Lucky Charms?
It felt like a relief to get through the checkout with the red haired officer nowhere in sight. I was outside in the sunshine, yellow bags in hand, when a wave of dread washed over me again.
A group of high school aged boys milled around a table outside. They had signs advertising a Boston butt sale to sponsor equipment for the high school football team. I checked the time. Sure enough, it was late enough in the day for the high school to be out. Those poor kids had to get up at the crack of dawn.
One of the boys I recognized from the waiting room at the hospital, the one who’d sat alone quietly when the rest of his teammates were goofing about.
After this morning, I felt obligated to show my support.
“I’ll take one.”
I began to fill out my information on a delivery slip.
“Haven’t you done enough?” Behind the boys, a surly looking woman sat on a lawn chair playing on her phone. I had a vague sense of recognition. Maybe she was in the waiting room as well.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Do I know you? What do you mean done enough? I wanted to do more.” What does she mean, done enough?
She rolled her eyes. “Savannah Williams. And I know all about you, Allie Treadwell. And I’m talking about what you did this morning. What you said to my friend, Calista.”
“Mom,” the boy from the hospital pleaded.
“Landon, you don’t know this girl’s story. She’s always putting her nose where it doesn’t belong, thinking she’s some sort of sleuth.”
“I never said that.”
“I didn’t say you said it. I said you think it. Calista was so shook up after she talked to you. She cried and cried. This on the day when Seth had a procedure to fix his broken hip. You’ve really got some nerve.”
“I told Calista I was sorry. Honestly, I am. If she really hit a deer, then I’m sure she’s got nothing to worry about.”
“Nothing to worry about?” Savannah scoffed. “Her husband is in the ICU. She’s got plenty to worry about.”
“I didn’t mean it like... I’m sorry.”
“Mom, she said she’s sorry,” Landon piped up.
“Yeah, Mrs. Williams,” another boy chimed in, “she did, uh, like find Coach and all that. Maybe cut her some slack.”
“I’m not interested in getting lectured by you, Zachary Sparkman. And Landon, you can go wait in the car. We’re almost done here.”
“We’ve got like another hour—”
“Zachary!” Savannah scolded.
“Sorry, Mrs. Williams. Can we still sell her a butt?”
“Go ahead.” Savannah was obviously flustered. The combination of me along with several teenage boys couldn’t be helping her blood pressure. I scribbled down the rest of my information and was out of there as fast as was possible.
When I got to the car, I took a few deep b
reaths. It felt like I was going to need to call Dr. Gilmore. No amount of cooking was going to distract me from the events of today.
My mind was spinning. The more I thought about it, the more I thought Javi had good reason to think the way he did. Maybe Calista was innocent. Maybe she had hit a deer. And maybe it was an accident. A hit and run. And maybe I wasn’t the sleuth I thought I was.
TO: Foodie Allison
FROM: Abby Ellis
SUBJECT: Opinions
Allie,
I know our opinions have differed in the past. But I just want to say that I’m so thankful for your reviews of Sadie’s Porch. I finally talked the husband into taking me there, despite his protests about the price. See, I told him I wasn’t going to stand another date night at Piggies—even if they have the best sweet tea in the state.
And you were right! Lord help me, you were right! What a meal!
Thankfully,
Abigale Ellis
10
All week, I’d been itching to run. Pounding on the pavement to relieve stress would’ve done me some good—at least, in theory. There was another part of my brain overanalyzing Coach Martin’s accident. At least now that I thought it was an accident, I realized it could happen to anyone at any time.
I spent the afternoon discussing it with Dr. Gilmore. Suzi, the receptionist, was able to squeeze me in for an appointment. The fact that I’d gotten her friend George’s son, Blake, out of a sticky situation in the past probably helped.
And luckily, or maybe unluckily, I woke to the sound of rain pitter-pattering on my roof. Rumbles of thunder shook the house. There wasn’t going to be any running this morning. Nor would I go out for coffee.
I worked in my pjs, accomplishing a fair amount in the first few hours. The social media accounts were updated. Comments were made. Food planned out. I even wrote up my blog. All that was needed was to make the Mediterranean quiche. Then I’d start working on prep for the piece on Sunday’s cooking class at The Southern Depot.
Sunday, I thought. How mad is Javi after yesterday? And what about our movie plans tomorrow?
I checked my phone. There was nothing there from Javi. But there was a single text that I was doing my best to ignore.
Hey there, good looking.
I guessed that was how it’s done these days—you give a guy your number, he doesn’t call. No, he texts.
Ignore it, Allie. You’ve got other fish to fry. Or quiche to make.
My phone buzzed again, and I was scared to pick it up. What would Kieran have texted this time?
Outside. See you in a second.
I almost jumped up, spilling my third cup of coffee. I had NOT invited him over. Then my brain got to working, processing the information. It wasn't unusual for my mom to show up unannounced. But texting me from the driveway? This was new territory.
I poked my head outside the screen door. The rain was coming down in sheets, and Mom struggled to coax the puppies out of the car.
Once she finally did so, I realized their wet and muddy feet would dirty up my floors—my floors that could already use a scrub. Maybe I can talk Mom into doing the cleaning for me, I thought mischievously.
“What are you thinking about?” Mom asked. “You look distracted.”
“Oh, nothing,” I lied.
“Girls,” I feigned displeasure, “your feet. They’re tracking mud everywhere.”
“Your floors could use a mop,” Mom said, not offering. “I noticed on Sunday there was dog hair everywhere. Have you been two-timing us?”
“Didn't I tell you I kept Brutus?”
“Brutus.” Mom pursed her lips. “Who’s Brutus? And who names a dog Brutus anymore. That’s like naming him Rex or Fido.”
“It’s Javi’s dog,” I said. My cheeks flushed.
“You now offer puppy sitting?”
“No.” I shook my head. “It was that day. Javi was busy doing detective work.”
“Oh, that day, huh. That reminds me! He’s awake, you know.”
“Who’s awake? Coach Martin?”
Mom nodded. She took off her shoes, and to my relief she sashayed across the floor toward the hall closest where my cleaning supplies were kept. “What? I’m thinking of taking ballroom classes? I hear if you go by yourself, they’ll pair you with someone young and handsome. You should come too. I’ll even let you get the younger of the two.”
“But not the most handsome,” I scoffed. “I know how you work. Plus, I bet our partners would be around fifteen.”
“You think?”
I shrugged. “Tell me more about Coach Martin. Who said that he’s awake?”
“I’ll tell you, if you tell me more about things with your detective. My inner sleuth says that you’re holding back.”
Mom chose the Swiffer and prepped to take care of my floor. The girls had already found their way to the couch—yet another thing that would need cleaning.
“Denise said he came to this morning.”
This morning? Really? Why hadn't Javier let me know? Or Kate?
“And?” I said.
“That’s it. He’s awake. I don’t think he remembers much about the accident. Or that’s what Denise told me. Maybe he’s figured something out by now.”
“That’s it? You really expect me to dish when that’s all you’ve given me?”
“And I’m giving you a clean floor,” Mom protested. “Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t. And there’s not much to tell here either.”
If Mom was willing to clean, I guessed that I did owe her some explanation. “Things have been going good,” I said. “Great even. But yesterday I think I did something to mess it all up. I think I stepped in it with Coach Martin’s wife. And once Javi finds out—if he hasn’t already—well, I don’t think he’ll be pleased.”
“Oh, sweetie.” Mom wrapped me in a hug. She always said the right thing and asked the right questions. “I’m sure things will turn out all right. If it’s meant to be, it’s meant to be. Have you thought about inviting him to Melanie’s wedding?”
“I have,” I admitted
I have. I have. I have. Probably too much.
“And he’s going with you to the cooking class this weekend, didn’t you say that?”
“He is. We’re going to a movie tomorrow night.”
“See,” Mom said, “you’ve got nothing to fret over. And you really should invite him to the wedding.”
“I know.” I did my best not to roll my eyes. “And maybe now that Coach Martin’s awake, none of it will matter. Maybe all of the questions I have about the accident will be answered.”
“With everything you've told me, I think it’s best you back off of the case. Especially where Javi is concerned.” That wasn't what I wanted to hear. But it was something that needed to be said. She was right. “If he wants to talk to you about it, he will. Don't push him hard on the subject.”
“I'll do my best,” I said.
For the next thirty minutes, I listened to my mom talk about the dogs and the weather. It was a bit boring, but she cleaned my house in the process. And for her troubles, I got a ton of puppy cuddles.
“Remind me about your puppy sitting endeavor next time I go out of town,” she said on her way out.
“You're going out of town? When? Where?”
“Well, aren't you a nosy ninny?” She smiled. “I have no plans for anything. But you never know. Maybe my dance partner will take me out on his yacht or something.”
“More like his Huffy!” I hollered as the screen door slammed shut.
11
The text from Kieran went unanswered until finally he sent another.
Busy day, huh? Maybe we could get that drink tomorrow night?
No, we wouldn’t be getting any drink, I thought. He couldn’t even remember what I told him a whole day before. Or does he remember and just not care?
I put it out of my mind, set Mister Netflix to a movie I could quote, and sank into bed.
Friday morning, I ran through my to-do list in a hurry. Made that quiche, took some photos of it, but set it aside. I wasn’t feeling quiche. I was feeling like a burger. I talked Grandmother into going with me to grab one. It took her ages to eat her fries. Fries! Seriously. I hate when a potato gets cold. I could practically taste the mush of under-done crinkly friend with each of Grandmother’s small bites. Possibly to counteract this effect, Grandmother’s milkshake was getting warm.
“I’ll just pay the check,” Grandmother said.
“You will not. I invited you.”
“Too late.” Grandmother put a twenty down atop our bill.
“It is not too late,” I argued. But then it was. Our waitress, Rose, swooped by and took the money.
The afternoon dragged on. I texted Javi to make sure we were still on for tonight. He replied yes. There were three movies around the same time at the theater. One, his silly superhero movie, one, a romance, and the other a horror film.
That makes things easy.
I splurged for both tickets and waited for him outside the ticket booth. I waited and waited. I checked that I had the time right. Then it came time for the movie to start. It’s like twenty minutes of previews, I reminded myself. I wanted to text him. But I was afraid he was in the car. And I hated to be the reason someone looked at their phone while driving.
Another few minutes passed before my phone lit up.
“Javi, hi,” I said into the receiver.
“Allie, I’m so sorry. I’m, uh, I’m not going to be able to make it. It’s the—”
“Oh, all right.” I felt like I’d seen this coming from a mile away. “I guess I can get my money back or something.”
“Allie, did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “You can’t make it.”
The Bitter Bite of Betrayal Page 5
