My eyebrows bunch together at his cryptic message. “What needs to stop?”
Joel lets out a long sigh. “Quit the games. I know what you’ve been doing. I spent all of yesterday cleaning up the mess you made.” He pauses. “I know it was you.”
I get a horrible, sinking feeling in my stomach. This isn’t what I expected at all. “Joel…”
“She called the police, you know.” He lifts his blue eyes now. There’s no love in those eyes anymore. How could I have been so stupid—again? He doesn’t want me back. Not when he’s got her. “I didn’t tell them your name. But if it happens again…”
“You’ll have me locked up.”
He rubs his temple with his fingertips. “That’s not what I want. I just want you to stop. Please.”
“Do you love her?”
I didn’t mean to ask him that. That’s the last question I wanted to ask. But now it’s out there, and I can tell from his face what the answer is.
“It’s early,” he says. “But… I think… yes. I do. I love her.”
He probably hasn’t even said it to her yet. But now that he’s saying it to me, he might tell her as well. I just helped move their relationship to the next level. You’re welcome, Olive.
“It’s over between us,” he says. “We weren’t right for each other. You’ve got to move on.”
That’s easy for him to say. He didn’t have to move in with his elderly grandmother. His life just keeps getting better and better.
“I want you to be happy.” He reaches out to almost touch my hand, but pulls away at the last second. “I really do. But it can’t be with me.”
“Is that why you got your buddy to ask me out?”
Joel blinks a few times. “What are you talking about?”
Either he’s telling the truth or he’s a fantastic actor. I study his face, searching for a flicker of jealousy. There’s none.
“Never mind,” I mumble.
I reach behind my chair, yanking my purse from where it’s hanging behind the seat. “I’ll leave you alone,” I say. “I won’t bother you again.”
Joel’s eyebrows bunch together. “Don’t be angry. Look, stay for dinner.”
“Don’t do me any favors.” I stand up so abruptly, the chair nearly tips over. “Have a great life.”
I feel his eyes on my back as I walk out. He doesn’t call my name or tell me to stay. Not that I ever expected him to.
Chapter 28: The New Girl
With one week before Christmas, business at the bookstore is at its peak and things are looking up. Even Maureen the Homeless Woman is looking more cheerful. You wouldn’t think a used bookstore would be a place where people would shop for presents, but you’d be wrong. Cassie applauded Zoe’s idea to make gift cards. They’ve sold enough in gift cards that they’re in the black for the month of December.
Of course, that doesn’t change the overall situation. Not even close.
Cassie is sitting at the front desk in the store, watching the customers milling about, when she hears her cell phone ring within the pocket of the coat hanging off her seat. She pulls it out and checks the number—it’s unfamiliar. She hesitates then shoves it back in her pocket.
Ever since the break-in at Bookland, Cassie’s been getting phone calls from a blocked number with only silence on the other end. Because the numbers are blocked, she has no way to block the calls. She’s been getting at least one every day, sometimes more. A few days ago, a call from a blocked number woke her up at two in the morning. She took her phone to the Apple Store to ask about it, and they said the numbers were probably from a burner phone, which is untraceable.
Zoe says she gets calls like that too, but Cassie can’t help but wonder if the calls are related to the break-in. And if Francesca could be responsible for all of it.
“Excuse me?” A boy in his teens with a face full of acne has approached the front desk to speak to her. “Can you help me find a book?”
“Sure!” Cassie loves being asked for help. “What book are you looking for?”
“It’s for school,” the boy says.
“Okay…”
He scratches at his chin. “It’s yellow, I think?”
“Is it fiction?”
“Yes…?”
Okay, this is going to be a challenge. “Do you know what it’s about?”
The boy shakes his head. “The teacher told us to get it.” He chews on his lip. “I think it has a vegetable in the title.”
“A vegetable?”
He frowns. “Or a fruit.”
Cassie wracks her brain, trying to think of titles with a fruit or vegetable in them. James and the Giant Peach? A Clockwork Orange? The House on Mango Street?
“Wait!” the boy says. “It was a raisin, I think!”
“A Raisin in the Sun?”
“No, that’s not right…”
Damn, she thought she had it that time for sure.
“Something else…” His brow furrows. “The Angry Raisin? Is that a book?”
Cassie’s eyes light up. “Grapes of Wrath?”
“That’s it!”
Cassie locates a copy of The Grapes of Wrath in the back of the store, and the kid goes off happy. She’s about to make another set of rounds to see if any of the browsing customers need assistance when she hears a familiar voice say, “Cassie?”
She turns to find Anna standing behind her, looking extremely pregnant but still stylish in a black knit maternity dress. In the last month, Anna really popped. Cassie remembers how kind Anna was the night of the party. Lydia is absolutely horrible, but Anna is the sort of person she could imagine being friends with.
“Hi, Anna,” Cassie says.
“I told you I was going to bug you for books about impending motherhood, didn’t I?” Anna smiles. “What have you got for me?”
Cassie looks down at her bulging stomach. “I better find something short. You don’t look like you have much time.”
Anna laughs. “More than you think. I’m just abnormally gigantic. And no, I’m not having twins. Thank God.”
Cassie leads her to a small section in the back where they’ve got a volume of What to Expect When You’re Expecting and some other similar books. Anna flips through a few of them, not looking particularly excited. “I’ll take them all, I guess.”
“Oh, great.” Triple sale. And the maternity books aren’t cheap. This has been a great day for the store. “I’ll go ring you up.”
Anna pays for the books with a gold credit card. Cassie recalls that Anna’s husband Con is a doctor, just like all of Joel’s friends. She can’t quite recall what Anna does—hair stylist maybe? But it’s clear from the way she dresses and her credit card that she’s not hurting for money. She can afford to buy three books she might never read.
“By the way,” Cassie says as she slides Anna’s credit card back across the counter to her, “thanks for being nice at the party last month. That meant a lot to me.”
Anna rolls her eyes. “Don’t thank me. Lydia was acting ridiculous.”
“She was, wasn’t she?”
“I think she put up that photograph of Francesca just for your benefit,” Anna says. “It was the first time I’ve seen it up there, anyway.”
Cassie’s frowns, remembering the photograph. “Francesca really was very beautiful in that picture.”
Anna is quiet. “Well… yes. That’s true.”
Cassie’s stomach sinks. She’d been hoping Anna might say it was a spectacular photograph of Francesca and she really looks like an ugly cow. But it’s obvious that’s not the case. It’s stupid to even think it.
“Does he talk about her much?” Cassie blurts out before she can stop herself. “I mean, when I’m not around?”
Anna’s eyes fill with sympathy. “Not anymore. You shouldn’t… I mean, that’s all in the past.”
“Yes, but… how do you compete with someone that perfect?”
“Well, he did break up with her, so…”
Cassie raises her eyes. A
ll this time, she’d been under the impression that Francesca ended the relationship. “I didn’t know that. Do you…” She lowers her voice. “Know why?”
Anna puts a hand on her belly. “No. I mean, that was between the two of them. He was vague about it.” She hesitates. “But I remember he said he felt like she was dishonest with him about certain things. Things she hid from him. That really bothered him.”
Things she hid from him.
What will Joel think when he finds out what Cassie’s been hiding from him?
She sighs. “I’m sorry. Is it completely inappropriate that I’m pumping you for information?”
“A little.” Anna laughs lightly. “But I can’t blame you.” She’s quiet for a moment, holding her palm against her abdomen. “Look, I shouldn’t say this, but the truth is, I never liked Francesca.”
Cassie’s heart speeds up. She can see a customer trying to get her attention out of the corner of her eye, and Cassie never ignores customers, but she needs to hear more about this. Now. “Why not? Why didn’t you like Francesca?”
Anna hesitates. “I… I shouldn’t.” She bites her lip, her eyes darting around. “She wasn’t a nice person though. And honestly? Sort of nuts.”
Is she the sort of person who would call me over and over, and then hang up?
Cassie is suddenly desperate to tell Anna everything. About the crimson paint. The slur written on her door. The break-in at the bookstore. Everything. She has a feeling Anna will know what to do. Or maybe she can offer some advice on what to tell Joel.
“I always thought she was a little off,” Anna admits. “Even before she—”
“Miss, I need help!” An old woman has approached the counter, looking peeved at being ignored. Unfortunately, Zoe is on lunch break.
“Okay, sure,” Cassie says hastily. She can’t afford to upset any customers, especially when business is finally on the upswing. “Just one second.”
“I better get going anyway,” Anna says. “I’ll see you later, Cassie. Thanks for the books.”
Cassie curses to herself as she watches Anna leave. All Cassie has heard for the last several months is how wonderful Francesca was. Anna is the first person who had a negative word to say about her. But she has a feeling Anna isn’t going to have time to get coffee in the near future, considering she’s got a baby about to pop out of her.
Cassie’s phone rings one more time. She doesn’t have to check the screen to know it’s a blocked number.
Chapter 29: The Ex
It’s a Friday evening, and I’m sitting on the sofa, eating chicken parmigiana with Nonna and watching the news.
The good news is the chicken parm came out perfect. The breading is crispy and the chicken is moist.
The bad news is… well, I think it’s fairly obvious. A woman my age should not be spending all of her evenings hanging out with her elderly grandmother, cooking chicken.
“That ABC news anchor is very handsome, isn’t he?” Nonna announces out of nowhere.
I look at the screen, where a man with golden blond hair and gleaming white teeth is delivering a story about a deadly five car collision in the Bronx.
“I guess so,” I say.
She nods at the television. “You should go out with him maybe.”
I stare at her in disbelief. “Him? The ABC news anchor?”
“Sure. Why not?”
“Uh, because I don’t know him?”
“You just camp yourself outside the news station until he comes out,” she says, rubbing her palm over her chest. “Girls do that all the time. Nothing wrong with it. How else are you supposed to find yourself a husband?”
I’ve already nearly gotten the police called on me for stalking Olive. I don’t need to throw a news anchor into the mix.
“I think I’ll pass,” I mumble.
Nonna rubs at her chest. “I am just saying, I have a more exciting social life than you do.”
I can’t disagree with her. Nonna has spent her retirement joining clubs and socializing. Everyone loves my grandmother. “I’m taking a break from dating. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Tomorrow night, I am inviting Mary from my knitting circle and her son.”
“Then I won’t be here.”
Nonna rubs her chest again. “So stubborn.”
I frown at her. “Why do you keep rubbing your chest?”
“I’m not rubbing my chest.”
“Yes, you are.”
She rolls her eyes. “Just some heartburn from your delicious dinner. Nothing to worry about.”
I sit up straight. From my many years of dating Joel, I’ve heard him describe enough stories of heart attacks that my radar immediately goes up. He told me once that women don’t have typical heart attack symptoms, so sometimes it’s harder to identify.
“Are you short of breath?” I ask her.
“No.”
“Is there pain radiating down your left arm?”
Nonna gives me a look. “It’s just heartburn. Stop worrying.”
But then she rubs her chest again. And winces.
“We should have it checked out,” I say. “Does your doctor have an after-hours line?”
“Doctor?”
I stare at her. My mother mentioned that Nonna didn’t like going to the doctor, but I’m shocked that she doesn’t even have one. How do you live to be so old without having a doctor? “Nonna! You don’t have a doctor?”
She waves a hand at me. “I don’t need a doctor. I lived this long without doctors. They just give you medicines that make you sick.”
“That’s the opposite of what a doctor does.”
“Says you.”
But then she winces again. I’m not sure if it’s my imagination, but she seems to be breathing a little fast. I don’t know what to do. Nonna is so damn stubborn—she could be having a heart attack in front of me, and she wouldn’t let me take her to a hospital.
“I’m going to call 911,” I decide, reaching for my phone on the coffee table.
“If a paramedic comes into my home,” she says, “I am going to hit him over the head with a frying pan.”
I don’t doubt that she would.
If I were still dating Joel, I would call him and ask him to examine her. She would let him, because he’s my boyfriend. But that’s off the table now, obviously. After our conversation last month where he accused me of terrorizing his girlfriend, I can’t even ask him as a friend. Especially not on Friday night, when he’s surely with Olive.
But there’s one person who might come.
I reach into my wallet and pull out the white card. I never got rid of Dean’s card with his phone number scribbled on the back. Although at this point, I’m sure he’s assumed I’m not calling him. And on a Friday night, he’s surely busy.
I look up at Nonna. She’s still rubbing her chest. Does her face look flushed?
Screw it. I’m calling Dean.
The second I punch in the number, my heart leaps in my chest. It rings once, twice, three times… I’m about to give up when I hear Dean’s familiar voice on the other line: “Hello?”
This is so awkward. I never should have called him. He probably won’t remember me at all. “Um… so… I’m sure you don’t remember, but we met at the park a couple of months ago when you were buying a hot dog and—”
“Sophia Loren!” He sounds thrilled. “I can’t believe it’s you! I’d nearly given up hope.”
“Yes, well…” I clear my throat. “The thing is…”
“You haven’t been able to get me out of your head and you want me to rush over right now and ravish you.”
“No.” I cough and look over at Nonna. “I’m sorry, I know this is awkward, but… my grandmother is… well, she’s having chest pain and she doesn’t have a doctor… and she says if I call 911, she’ll hit them on the head with a frying pan…”
Nonna has been watching me this whole time without comment, but at the mention of her, she pipes up, “Who are you calling?
Who is that?”
“Just a second, Nonna,” I hiss at her.
“No doctors,” she says firmly.
“Fine!” I sigh and return to my conversation with Dean. “Anyway, I was just hoping… well, I thought maybe…”
“You want me to come to your house and check out Nonna.”
My cheeks grow warm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Not at all,” he says. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Where do you live?”
“Bensonhurst.”
He groans. “Okay, give me thirty minutes.”
I give Dean directions to the apartment and hang up the phone. Nonna is still watching me, but she doesn’t say anything until I hang up.
“Who was that?” she finally asks.
“A friend of mine.”
“A friend who’s a doctor?”
I hesitate. “Yes.”
Nonna considers this. “Is he handsome?”
This time I don’t have to hesitate. “Yes.”
“Well, he’d better be.” She shakes her head. “Or else I’m hitting him on the head with a frying pan.”
Thirty-one minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. I’ve been so worried about Nonna that it didn’t even occur to me to doll myself up for the handsome doctor showing up at my door. And honestly, I don’t care. I called him here because I don’t want my grandmother to have a heart attack and die. Not to flirt with him.
But on the other hand, I wish I weren’t wearing sweatpants and a tank top.
Dean’s face lights up in a grin when he sees me, in spite of my attire. Or maybe because of it. “Miss Loren,” he says. “A pleasure, as always.”
“Come in,” I mumble, barely able to look him in the eyes.
“Where’s Nonna?”
I jerk my head in the direction of the living room. “She’s in there. She looks okay, but she keeps rubbing her chest. I’m really worried.”
“Let Dr. Pourakis take a look.”
Dean strides past me into the living room, where Nonna is still in her chair. She hasn’t keeled over yet, and she took the time to get a frying pan from the kitchen. It’s lying next to her on the chair. She raises her eyes when Dean approaches her, and in spite of everything, a smile spreads across her face. “Okay,” she says. “I won’t hit you on the head.”
The Ex Page 14
