by Ava Claire
Wincing as the floor creaked and Jacob stirred, I returned to the desk, not wanting to believe my eyes.
It was Jack’s Cafe, the place I went to with my mom and Alicia.
Panic seeped into me like poison and something in my head told me to get out of there. That I didn’t want to know. That ignorance was bliss.
I did the opposite, cycling back through the pictures. The park was the one we had the baby shower at. The bar? It wasn’t just a bar, it was Sullivan’s. Even though Eichmann wasn’t looking directly at the camera in any of the photos, it was clear he was sending us a message.
He was watching us too.
The only plus in this situation was that Jacob was still sound asleep. I felt like it would be a long time before I would sleep soundly again.
I was terrified, my chest rising and falling in anxious, staccato beats, but I managed to back out of the room without incident. I waited until I was out on the balcony, gripping the railing for dear life before I lost my mind.
This was war, wasn’t it? The first shot was fired when Jacob and Cole marched into that restaurant in Paris.
I squeezed the rail. No, the first shot was fired when Brittany kidnapped you.
I let go of the railing and held my belly, realizing that this whole mess went back even further than that. This started the moment Alicia met Carlton Whitmore. All the choices, love, heartbreak, lust, and lies had put us on a collision course with destiny. It was like some sort of butterfly effect that made my head spin. If we had a time machine and changed one thing, wouldn’t it change everything? If Alicia hadn’t fallen in love with Carlton, there would be no Jacob. And if there was no Jacob...
I closed my eyes and let the wind wipe away my tears. I let it grip my dark curls and whip them in my face to shake me out of that kind of defeated thinking.
I remembered growing up, barely able to finish the heaping dinner plate my mother put in front of me. I’d stared at the leftover food until my eyes crossed and I was pretty sure the food that had gone down was on its way back up. Throwing out the food was no option and so it often ended up wrapped in aluminum foil, waiting to taunt me at lunchtime the next day.
The one time I’d tried to sneak my plate in the garbage, she’d looked at me like I’d just flipped her the bird.
“There are kids in the world who would love to have that plate of food in front of them, Leila!”
Clutching a porcelain plate filled with gravy drenched meatloaf and mashed potatoes, the message was that no matter how hard your lot in life seemed to be, there was always something to be grateful for. There was someone who had it worse than you, so stop feeling sorry for yourself and eat the damn meatloaf, or wrap it up. So I learned to wrap it up and get on with it.
“Get on with it,” I said firmly, pushing my hair out of my eyes. I made my way back into the apartment and after scouring the bathroom and bedroom for one of the millions of hair bands I owned, I found a single one beneath the bed. I tied my hair back and shuffled to the bathroom, pausing at my sink, considerably messier than Jacob’s. I splashed some water on my face and hoped for the best. I still looked splotchy and miserable, but I felt a little better, which was a start.
I walked back downstairs, hustling back to the office when I realized I’d forgotten to close the door before I went out on the balcony to have my meltdown. Luckily, his head was now nestled on his desk.
I clicked the door shut, deciding to leave Eichmann in that room, on that desk, where he belonged. I pulled a ginger ale from the fridge and a pint of Ben and Jerry’s from the freezer, then made my way back upstairs. I paused at the door on my left. It used to be a second bedroom...and an extra play space when Jacob and I wanted to spread out. Since we found out I was pregnant, it had been stripped from top to bottom and was currently in transition.
It would be the baby’s room.
We’d agreed to wait and go for something a little more gender neutral and let our baby’s personality dictate how we decorated their space. At the moment, there was the bassinet I’d gotten from my parents that was fully restored, a mahogany colored chest of drawers, and all the gifts that I’d pretty much transferred from the living room to the baby’s room with no rhyme or reason. I couldn’t think of a more healing way to keep my mind busy and off of Eichmann.
I tackled the gift bags first, emptying the contents and separating them into their respective categories: clothing, toys, books, pacifiers, bibs and other odds and ends. By the time I was done, I'd worked up a sweat and finished the entire bottle of ginger ale and and most of the Ben and Jerry's. Now that I had everything out in the open, it was clear that our baby wouldn’t want for a thing.
I grabbed my phone, wanting to take a picture of my progress when my phone nearly gave me a heart attack, coming to life in my hands.
I had to confirm the name on the screen twice before I answered. "Alicia?"
"Well, hello to you too." Anyone else would have delivered that line with some friendliness, a playful elbow jab that you could feel through the phone. The only thing that came through for me loud and clear was the fact that Alicia had called me and yet, her tone was that of someone who'd been rudely interrupted.
"Was this a pocket dial or something?" More than willing to be the one who ended the call, I pulled it from my ear. I almost missed her exclamation as my finger shot toward the red button that would put us both out of our misery.
"Don't hang up!" she protested. "I called you intentionally."
I cradled the phone between my ear and shoulder, reaching for the Ben and Jerry's because things had definitely taken an interesting turn. "What's up?"
She sounded like she was rearranging, and when she replied it was clear she was surprised the call was still connected. "Oh, uh, it's nothing serious. It probably could be handled effectively via email, but I'm a bit old school."
I swallowed a chunk of peanut butter cups. "Alicia, I'm very busy." It wasn't exactly true, but I would do just about anything to get out of this awkward conversation. "Feel free to text me if you'd like."
"Considering our history with texting, that is probably unwise."
I pursed my lips, in slight disbelief that we agreed on something. We'd gotten our first hint that someone was messing with us when Alicia got a text from me that I didn't send. "That's a good point." I put the ball firmly in her court. "What would you suggest?"
"There's a cafe near your place. Sophia's, on Martin and 9th."
I wasn't familiar with it, but I was guessing if she was throwing it out there as an option, it had to have five stars on several sites and was thoroughly vetted.
"So you want to meet at Sophia's?" I clarified. "Just you and I?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "If you're available."
"I-" I stopped mid-sentence. I was available, but I'd given Pascal the afternoon off. And I certainly didn't want to wake Jacob so he could walk me to a cafe to meet the mother he was still on the outs with.
The nervous part of me that had been dialed up to full blast lately whispered to just call Pascal. He would be gracious I was sure, since he was there for peace of mind, but there was another part of me that wouldn't be denied. The defiant part. It remembered the sense of invasion at those pictures of Eichmann, poisoning beautiful days and memories with the knowledge that he'd been watching. I mapped the cafe and it was a five minute walk away. Putting myself in danger for Alicia was probably not the smartest thing I'd done today, but I'd just downed a pint of ice cream and ginger ale for lunch, so I was on a roll.
I refused to let Eichmann terrorize me. Keep me locked in my tower or looking over my shoulder, too terrified to do anything without my husband or bodyguard.
Before, my cautious side could chime in, I said, “What time?”
~
Sophia's was everything I expected a cafe Alicia Whitmore recommended would be: gorgeous, sleek, and pretentious.
The all white everything vibe made the modest sized space look huge, from the white bricks and white table a
nd white chairs to the white counters and white, empty frames on the wall. Even the waitstaff were in white shirts and white pants, the only color the chrome machines, espresso beans, and brown aprons. There was no menu, and as a gum smacking barista informed me with a condescending chuckle when I walked to the counter, there were no lines here either. There must have been a huge kitchen and prep space tucked into some white corner because there didn't appear to be any food despite the fact this was a cafe. Most people were sipping their drinks and nibbling on their food, and the rest seemed perfectly content to subsist on air and the high of being able to say they spent a couple of hours looking cool at Sophia's.
I'd beat Alicia here, leaving the apartment as soon as she texted me that she was on the way. I think a part of me knew that if I hung around my apartment, mulling this little cafe date over, I was liable to come up with an excuse to get out of it. Well, that and the fact that I almost reached into the fridge for a fresh tub of ice cream. My stomach grumbled, reminding me that I was hungry, and at this point, just about anything would do.
I picked a table near the back with a direct line of sight to the door. I chose it so I could gauge what I was in for as Alicia made her way over, and whether or not I was truly up for this.
And so you can spot Eichmann and make a dash for the kitchen. Find a weapon and-
What?
Stab him to death?
Grate his face to shreds?
If he had a gun, and I was fairly sure that was a requirement as an international crime lord, a knife, a grater, or even the table, would be no match for it.
Massaging my temple, I scanned the room, trying to make eye contact with my potential server. I was ready to pull out my phone and start drafting a Yelp rant but I got a smile and a wave of acknowledgement from a brunette a few tables over.
She saddled up to my table, still wearing her smile and holding a slender electronic tablet. "Hey there! I'm Scarlet. What can I get for you?"
I shot my eyes to my left and right. It was pretty clear that everyone else here was in the know and I was woefully unprepared.
“I’d like...food?” I answered slowly. “And something to drink?” I wasn’t sure what to do with my hands, so I just beat out an awkward little ditty on the table. “This is my first time here.”
Her big brown eyes rounded with glee before I could take it back and order a sandwich and a water and hope for the best. Her mouth fell open and she belted out, “Another one bites the dust!”
A recording of a crowd whooping and applauding cut into the relaxing, wind chime filled audio that poured from the white speakers. The diners who surrounded me tossed disdain in my direction. It was no wonder everyone was regulars. Newbies were treated like they were boils on the ass of humanity.
Scarlet, thankfully, still seemed giddy that I’d been seated in her section.
“Welcome!” She paused, a inquisitive curtain falling over her face. “Are you sure you’ve never been here before? You look familiar.”
I pulled the tongue of my cap down a few inches. “First time, scout’s honor.”
She chewed on her stylus for a few more moments, then shrugged her ivory shoulders. “Well, welcome again!” She leaned in, sharing her screen with me. “Here at Sophia’s, we have three fixed menus that have been carefully curated for you.”
My bemused smile turned into a skeptical one. I read the screen as she took me on a tour through the curated options I had to chose from.
“The Cafe meal includes your choice of a scintillating, precisely warmed beverage. The options for today are a americano, a mint leaf tea, a spiced cider that I highly recommend-”
“We’ll share the panini option with the caprese salad, a glass of red wine for me and a passion fruit tea for my daughter-in-law.”
Scarlet and I were both surprised by Alicia’s arrival, but Scarlet was the first to snap from her stupor, confirming the order before hustling off to take care of business.
I was still digesting the fact that Alicia had said the words ‘daughter-in-law’ without cringing, like admitting we were connected, even by marriage, didn’t bring her great displeasure.
Nicety aside, Alicia made it clear I was an amateur by strutting in like the CEO of the place. She wore a cream colored blouse and tan slacks. Her dyed, white gold locks hung in soft waves around her striking face, and the pearl necklace really brought out her haunting gray eyes.
It wasn't just that I was underdressed compared to her, even in my summer dress, cardigan and sandals. She made everyone in the place seem like they were slobs, and she did it so effortlessly.
I fiddled with one of my stud earrings, trying to not seem as intimidated as I was. Her night and day, hot and cold, Regular Alicia vs Nice Alicia was not only giving me whiplash, but it was making it harder and harder to keep my own emotions in check. My head knew better, knew that trusting this woman was a one way ticket to disappointment. And still, I found myself wanting to believe that maybe time, or the Cole and Brittany incident, or even the baby was some wake up call. A reminder of her own mortality and that if she kept up her routine, she was going to find herself alone with nothing but her manor and a handful of servants that couldn't wait for her to croak.
She looked as unwilling to get to the talking part as I did, fiddling with the same pearls she'd worn to the shower. To my home, when she claimed she had regrets about her actions.
I pulled my jacket tighter, deciding to break the ice. "Quite the cafe."
She narrowed her cloudy eyes, like she was trying to ascertain whether or not I was being sarcastic or actually complimenting her choice of venue. "One of my favorites in the city."
"Nice," I replied awkwardly, rubbing my hands on my thighs and picking my tight grin from earlier back up.
Neither one of us lingered on the other, eyes sweeping to the decor and the diners around us instead, like we were on the world's most uncomfortable first date. Next, we'd start asking each other about the weather.
Like she'd read my mind she asked, "It's unseasonably warm, don't you think?"
I dropped the game, shaking my head. "We're not going to do this, Alicia." Before she could even pretend that she had no idea what I was talking about, I cut right through the bullshit. "The last time I saw you, you made it pretty clear that we're not friends, so I'm not going to talk about the weather or recap tv shows or discuss the state of the world. I have a feeling you didn't invite me here for that anyway, so why don't we spare each other a whole lot of discomfort and get to it?"
Her nostrils flared and I saw so much of Jacob in her indignant little ticks. I was breaking every etiquette rule in the book, and I really could care less. If this mess Jacob and I were dealing with had taught me anything, it was that life is too short to waste time beating around the bush.
After she was done giving me the silent treatment, her way of telling me she'd talk when she was good and ready, she drew her fingers through her pale locks and lifted her chin.
"Fair enough. You're right, I didn't invite you here for small talk. I invited you here to finish what I wanted to share the night I showed up at your home."
I knew exactly what she was talking about, but in case I didn't, she uncomfortably reminded me.
"I looked..." She couldn't find the word, but from the curdled look on her face, it was clear she wasn't going to say anything positive.
I was tempted to let her squirm, curious about what adjective she'd use, but I decided to put her out of her misery. “Unkempt?"
Alicia covered her mouth with the tips of her finger and let out a polite little cough. "To say the least." She retracted her hand and continued, her voice as unsteady and un-Alicialike as it had been that night. "I spoke of my mother and how she died alone. And I would like to avoid a similar fate."
"I remember," I nodded.
"Well," she pressed on, her voice gaining in strength, her closed off body language softening. "I'd hoped to share a story about this." She gestured at her neck. At the pearls.
"They're lovely."
She didn't thank me, partly because she knew they were lovely...and this was Alicia Whitmore we were talking about. I couldn't remember the last time I'd heard her say the words 'thank you'.
"When I had Jacob, my mother performed all of the perfunctory grandmother duties. She bought him things, pecked his cheek before she handed him off to the nanny. Created a scholarship fund in his name."
I raised my brow. 'Grandmother duties' to most people would be showering their grandchildren with love and affection. Spoiling them rotten. Considering what I knew about her mother though, even the things Alicia mentioned seemed out of character.
"Despite all that, it was clear that she was holding back. That she was almost-" The nerve beneath Alicia’s eye ticked. "Going through the motions."
I tried to not pin any hope that Alicia had actually shown a sign of humanity. Of vulnerability because her mother didn't connect with her son. I did my last name proud and scrubbed all emotion from my face, just listening.
"When she reached the end of her life, I finally asked why she didn't bond with Jacob." Alicia fiddled with her pearls, her gray eyes distant, lost in the memory. "My mother was never one to mince words or not speak her mind. She told me she cared deeply for Jacob, but she'd always hoped for a granddaughter, so she could pass on the pearls that her grandmother had left her in her will."
If I wasn't sitting down, you could have knocked me over with a feather. My surprise melted the mask I wore and Alicia smiled at me.
Really smiled.
"I was surprised too,” she confessed. “My mother was not a sentimental woman, but these pearls-" She looped a finger through them. "They meant a great deal to her."
I sat back in my chair, my eyes widening as I realized what she was getting at. What she was asking. "Alicia..."
"I know that we aren't close." She dropped the pretense. “Let’s be honest—we don't even like each other. But I'd like to try to at least get to a point where we tolerate one another so I can be a part of my grandchild's life. Whether it's a girl or a boy, being their grandmother, and not just in name only, is very important to me."
