by Elle Rush
She fidgeted the entire drive to the Italian restaurant. At first, he thought it was nerves, but she was smiling too hard to be worried about something. Aaron waited until the waitress had left with their order before he leaned over the table. “What’s up with you?” he asked.
“I got some news.”
Aaron grinned. He loved playful Brooke. “Are you going to share?”
“Maybe later.”
And then she made him wait. Through the breadsticks. Through the Caesar salad. When he saw the waitress returning with their meals, he slapped his hands on the table. “Tell me! I can’t take the stress anymore.”
But then Brooke waited till they’d been served, and she had her napkin in her lap. Then the waitress had to refill her water glass. Brooke took a sip, staring him in the eyes the entire time. “Okay, I guess I can tell you.”
“Thank you.”
“As I said, I got some news.” She broke off a piece of her breadstick.
“Do you remember how I said arresting you may put a damper on our relationship? It might be worth it if you don’t tell me.”
“Fine.” Her smile was breathtaking. “Somebody got an A on her accounting assignment, and the second-highest mark in the entire class.”
“That’s terrific! You must be ecstatic.” She’d been working incredibly hard for that class. Aaron had never seen anyone wear the numbers off the buttons on a calculator before.
“I’m thrilled. Next is the midterm at the end of the month, so now I have to switch over to study mode, but I’ll make it work. How about you? How’s work?” Brooke asked.
“Same old, same old.” He didn’t want to tell her the truth because Brooke’s good humor about her schoolwork was exactly what he needed after a long week.
As Holiday Beach moved deeper into October, the number of calls the station received had started to climb. He’d had two callouts to Jackson Farm during the week: once for a group of young men who’d snuck in a couple bottles of booze and started harassing other maze-goers, and once for a nine-year-old girl who decided it would be fun to hide from her parents and not come out even when the announcement that the maze was closing was broadcast over the loudspeakers. Over an hour later, in the dark and cold and damp, he’d found the kid cowering in a corner, crying and freaked out by the sounds of nature. Aaron was certain she was going to develop a phobia like Brooke’s after that experience.
As the days drew closer to Halloween, experience said it was only going to get worse. Family Farm Grocery was going to start limiting toilet paper sales to adults next week; Handler Hardware was doing the same for spray paint. Then would come the calls from concerned citizens reporting arms hanging out of trunks, or the guy with the bullet wound walking down Main Street because the caller didn’t recognize zombie makeup. Aaron liked Halloween as much as the next person, but it made his job extra challenging.
They chatted more about her course during the meal, but during dessert, the conversation took a serious turn. “I don’t mind Trevor having friends over. At least I know where he is. I don’t want to be rude, but having Caleb over for a sleepover almost every Friday night is starting to drag. I miss having my house to myself.”
“Almost every week?”
“While Trevor’s with me. Don’t get me wrong, Caleb’s never in the way and always polite, but he’s always there. I don’t remember sleepovers being this popular when Trevor was smaller.” He knew his son wasn’t getting into trouble, but the near-weekly events weren’t something he’d done in his sophomore year.
“Maybe he’s trying to get it all in before he goes away to college next year,” Brooke suggested.
“Maybe. All I know is that he’s going to his mother’s the weekend after next, and I’ll have the place all to myself. Would you like to come over for dinner two weeks from tonight?”
“I’d love to.”
The conversation moved on, but part of it kept circling in his head after he dropped Brooke off for the night. Sure enough, when he got home, the familiar music of Trevor’s favorite video game floated up from the basement. He staked out the kitchen, knowing the boys would resurface for snacks soon enough.
About ten minutes later, the music paused, and he heard footsteps on the stairs. Trevor arrived in the kitchen with a handful of soda cans which he threw into the recycling bin and an empty nacho bag. Aaron expected Caleb to appear but then heard the sounds of the shower from the downstairs bathroom.
“Hey, kid, got a minute?” he asked.
“Sure, Dad.”
“Is Caleb taking a shower?”
“Yeah.”
This was a fine line. “I’ve noticed his been over a lot since school started.”
Trevor’s response was slower this time. “Yeah. Is that okay?”
“It is. You weren’t such good friends last year.”
“No. We started hanging out this summer. He’s been working with me on Mac’s property. We had a lot of the same classes last year too.”
“Do his folks mind him spending so much time over here?” Aaron pressed gently. Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t been able to track down the Quentins for Lucy. While Caleb said hi when he arrived at the house, Trevor tended to rush them to the basement as soon as they arrived. Aaron knew he’d have a problem if Trevor spent more time out of the house than at home. Teenagers were supposed to push their limits, but they still had them.
His son’s shoulders crept towards his ears. “Not really.” Aaron recognized the look, so he waited patiently. “He has some problems at home. His parents aren’t great.”
“Is this something you need an adult for?”
“Not yet?” Trevor didn’t sound sure. “It’s handled for now, but if it gets worse, I might need to talk to you. But not yet.”
“Just don’t forget I’m here, Trevor. So’s your mother. So is Brooke. We can help.”
“We know. Thanks.”
The shower downstairs stopped.
“Lights out by midnight, even if it is a Friday night. I don’t need Zombie Trev tomorrow. We have to start prepping the yard for winter. First is organizing your gigantic wood pile into stacks so it doesn’t look like our backyard was hit by a tornado.”
“You’ve got it, Dad.”
That conversation hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. He was certain there was a reason Caleb had practically moved in on Fridays. “Not great parents” left a lot of options open. The kid was safe and fed while he was here. Aaron hadn’t seen any bruises. All he could do was let the boys know his door was open.
Chapter 20
Brooke woke to a gorgeous sunrise in an empty apartment—but couldn’t stay in bed and enjoy it. She was working the Saturday morning shift at the Dew Drop Inn, and a bachelorette party were checking out, so there would be several rooms to clean. She’d hoped to talk to Jordan before she left, but her daughter had to work even earlier than she did. She was pleased that Jordan was trusted to open the store, but it was time to check in to see if Jordan’s part-time paid job was interfering with her full-time student job when she saw her later today.
When she arrived at work, Brooke was surprised to see Mickey Wagner standing behind the reception desk handing the check-outs, and Lucy Callahan coming down the stairs with a toolbox in her hand and a garbage bag held at arm’s length in the other. Lucy saw her, shook her head, and walked down the hall.
The lobby, which had been painted a fresh cream in the spring, appeared to be in one piece. The marble inlay at the entrance and the floors appeared reasonably clean, but Brooke planned to mop them anyway. The looks she was getting from the hotel’s staff encouraged her to find something else to do first.
“We’ve taken a cursory look at your rooms and have documented what we found. The Dew Drop Inn will be putting a significant damage charge onto your credit cards. If we find additional damage, there will be more fees. Also, the goat has been returned to Jackson Farms. Any costs resulting from that will be between you and the farm and will be completely s
eparate from these charges.”
The woman at the desk had clothes and an ombré dye job that screamed she was from the city. Her thick makeup did nothing to hide the dark circles under her eyes or her fat lip. “This is ridiculous. I’m the bride-to-be. I’m not paying a damage deposit. It was an accident. Let me speak to the manager. He’s a personal friend of the family.”
“You didn’t accidentally bring a goat that you stole from a corn maze into your suite. You didn’t accidentally feed it all the ingredients from the honor bar, because the wrappers and empty cans were in the garbage. And I can guarantee you, ma’am, that the manager is not going to give you a pass, because I am the owner of this hotel.”
Sometimes it was nice to see comeuppance being delivered in person, Brooke thought. Especially when it sounded like she’d be cleaning up after a goat. She was not counting on a tip from those guests.
The woman stomped away in black-soled, high-heeled boots that left scuffs on the tile floor. Mickey waited till she joined the group of women huddled by the meeting room, then waved her over. He ran his hand through his short brown hair, then offered her a rueful smile. “It’s bad,” he said in greeting. “I called in Lucy because we’re going to need repairs after the mess is cleaned up. You’ll be getting hazard pay today.”
Brooke didn’t mind the fact that she worked hard for her money. She did resent it when people went out of their way to make her work harder. “Do you want me to do all the other rooms and leave it till last, or tackle it first?”
“Get the other rooms in order first. I have no idea how long that one will take,” Mickey said.
It took her two and a half hours, and that was with Lucy’s help.
“A goat? Really?” Lucy grumbled as they manhandled a king-size mattress down the staircase into the lobby, then dragged it to the dumpster behind the building. “Some people have more money than sense. It’s a shame it didn’t go after their three-hundred-dollar shoes instead of the furniture.”
“I’m going to record every spot of dirt and damage so Mickey can bill them to the cent for this mess,” Brooke said when she returned to the room. In addition to the destroyed bed and linens, they also had to take down and replace the curtains and remove a dresser that had two knobs and a corner chewed off.
Then Brooke was able to start cleaning.
She’d been right. The occupants hadn’t left a tip. However, her very generous and guilt-ridden boss had given her the promised bonus, which meant she was absolutely not cooking dinner after the disgusting day she’d had. Images of dancing burgers, burritos, and pizza all vied for her attention.
She arrived at home with a large order of loaded nachos, telling herself that the chopped tomatoes and onions and olives almost made it a salad.
Jordan followed her nose into the kitchen. “Do I smell”—she sniffed the air—“nachos? Restaurant nachos?”
“I got a disaster bonus.”
Her daughter frowned. “How bad?”
“About an eleven.”
Jordan’s nose crinkled. “People can be so gross.”
“It’s incentive to keep studying, that’s for sure,” Brooke agreed.
Once the meal was plated and they were fighting over the sour cream, Brooke realized how much she didn’t want to have the conversation about work that she needed to. Before she started, her phone buzzed with a text from Aaron. “Must cancel Sunday morning coffee. Break-in paperwork and meetings.” His news capped of an already terrible day.
“What’s with the sigh?” Jordan asked.
“I was supposed to have coffee with Aaron tomorrow since I was working today, but he had to cancel. He’s dealing with a break-in.”
“Where? I hope nobody was hurt.”
“Where?” she texted Aaron.
“Austen Cottage.”
Jordan’s jaw dropped at the news. “That makes me glad I wasn’t at any of the Halloween parties last night.”
She’d never suspect Jordan of vandalism, but knowing her daughter had been at work was an extra comfort. “You and me both, Cookie.”
“Are there any suspects?”
Brooke waved her phone. “You know what I know. I don’t know how much Aaron can tell us, but I’m sure the rumor mill will have all the news by morning. Are you working tomorrow?”
“I have an afternoon shift.”
“Then you’ll hear all about it.”
“Speaking of gossip, what did I hear about you and a goat?” Jordan asked.
The nachos were long gone by the time Brooke finished recounting her day. Halfway through her story, Jordan got up and returned with a bottle of iced tea from Brooke’s secret stash.
“I think I’ll let you have the living room and remote to yourself tonight,” Jordan said. “You deserve a little downtime. No studying! Give yourself the night off.”
“We’re not done yet, Cookie. There’s something else we need to discuss.”
Jordan slumped in her favorite corner of the sofa and pulled a pillow into her lap, putting a barrier between them. Brooke recognized that move. “What?”
“That attitude is not going to make this go any easier. When you started working, we made an agreement that it was dependent on maintaining your grades and other things. This is your check-in. If you aren’t mature enough to have this conversation, I question if you’re ready for an adult job.”
“Okay. What would you like to talk about?”
The attitude was still there, hidden under a layer of bitingly polite sarcasm. It wasn’t outright rude, but Jordan was tapdancing on the line. “How are your classes? Are you giving yourself enough time for studying and your homework? How are your teachers? Any problems? What’s the news with volleyball? And the drama club? Are you getting any pushback from your school board stories?” She didn’t fire them out like the questions were coming from a machine gun. She laid them on the table and let Jordan decide which ones she was going to answer. “If I hear the word ‘fine,’ we are going to have a much more unpleasant discussion.”
“I have two heavy classes this semester. Senior math and chemistry are going okay. I’m giving them a majority of my study time,” her daughter began.
It took a lot of prodding and leading questions, but Brooke eventually got an update on Jordan’s history and gym classes as well. Jordan also gave her the news that the school had announced a new book for the next semester’s English class. It wasn’t one of Brooke’s top choices, but it represented life in the last thirty years rather than sixty, so it was an improvement.
“Nobody wants to replace Mrs. Bellingham, so unless she comes back for the second semester, the drama club is done. Which sucks because I wanted to do one more play before I graduated, but there aren’t enough teachers.”
Brooke nodded in understanding. That was the problem with small-town schools. There were fewer teachers and only so much extra time to go around. “How has the response been to your stories?” she asked.
“The students are for changes to the dress code. The school board accepted the student council’s invitation to discuss the issue on Wednesday.”
“And the parking spot article?”
“That comes out on Wednesday too.” Jordan hesitated. “Trevor’s dad was not impressed with that.”
“Nobody likes to be confronted with the fact they’re benefiting at the expense of others. It doesn’t mean they’re right.”
“Is it going to cause problems between the two of you? Trevor’s on the football team.”
“Oh, Cookie, not at all.” Brooke moved the pillow and sat beside Jordan, pulling her into a hug. “Don’t ever worry about that. Aaron is a grown man. He’s not going to get mad at anyone for having different opinions than he does. Besides, he already admitted that the parking situation isn’t fair. He has to come to terms with it. I wouldn’t go out with somebody who didn’t recognize right from wrong.” She hoped Jordan could feel her conviction. She believed in Aaron, truly believed he was a good man. She wasn’t blindly calling him pe
rfect, but what she’d seen and heard gave her the confidence to trust him to come around to the right side.
“I guess you really like him, huh?”
“I really do.”
“He seems nice, and he’s nice to you. I guess I can like him too.”
Chapter 21
Aaron watched the glass tray in the microwave spin as it warmed his leftover pizza. The rubbery cheese and dried-out crust would be the nicest meal he’d had in days. He was bone-tired, totally flummoxed and dangerously cranky. He was grateful that Trevor was at football practice because he was in no shape for human company.
He was dead on his feet. He was used to being called out to deal with all kinds of hijinks, but this week had pushed his patience with Halloween pranks to the limit. Sightings of people hiding and running through the back woods of Shakespeare Drive had him tromping through the bush at all hours. It wasn’t just Neil Dempsey calling the station with tales of spooky figures trespassing in the night. Even level-headed Mac had reported figures lurking around his building site and breaking into his storage trailer.
He ate his pizza, washed off the tomato sauce that had dripped onto his chin, popped a beer, and settled onto the couch with his tablet in front of him to call Brooke.
She answered right away. The wall behind her sofa had little jack-o’-lantern lights hanging from a string, and he spied a plastic pail of candy in the corner of the screen.
“Hey there, sheriff. Catch any bad guys today?”
Aaron held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Missed them by this much.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Justice will have to wait for another day. Can you talk about what happened?” she asked.
“Sean Fitzpatrick got very lucky,” Aaron said. “Mac swung by his property because there’s been a lot of cars parked on Shakespeare Drive lately in the evenings that he didn’t recognize. He thought he saw somebody sneaking out of Shelley’s Shack and called me. They were gone when I got there, but I checked the neighboring properties. I spotted an unfamiliar navy, extended cab pickup at Austen Cottage. They kicked in the front door and headed right for the liquor cabinet.”
