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THE NEXT DAY IS SATURDAY, and I take Tee out to breakfast at eight.
Eight is her idea of a late, leisurely weekend breakfast. If she had her choice, she’d be showing up at our favorite pancake place at six in the morning.
Because I was able to talk her into a later breakfast, I’m able to go through my regular morning routine—only slightly abbreviated—before I take the walk into downtown and reach the restaurant only a few minutes late.
Naturally, Tee is already there and at a table with a pot of coffee ready for us.
I hug and kiss her before I sit down.
“Did you walk all the way, Maya? It’s much too far, and it’s cold out.”
“It’s less than two miles, and it’s not that cold today. Plus I’m all bundled up.” That much is the truth. It takes a couple of minutes for me to unwind my scarf, pull off my gloves and cap, and unbutton the long wool coat I’m wearing over my stretchy jeans and long sweater.
Tee is smiling as I settle myself and get comfortable.
“What is it?” I ask after a minute.
“Nothing, mija. Just that you always come in with a minor flurry wherever you go. You spill over into every space. I’ve missed it.”
It’s impossible to see her fond expression and believe she’s criticizing me, although in the past I’ve been a bit embarrassed by this particular trait of mine. Some people are able to move through the world without making a single ripple. Efficient and streamlined with a minimal footprint on their surroundings.
That’s not me.
Chris used to tease me about how it was his job to try to contain me. Otherwise I might lose parts of myself everywhere I go.
I raise my hips slightly so I can smooth down the tail of my sweater, and then I can finally stop adjusting. “What are you thinking about for breakfast?”
We have a brief conversation about whether the key lime French toast or the gingerbread pancakes are a better option. By the time the server comes over, we’ve decided to get one of each order and share.
That resolved, I reach down to my big bag and pull out one of the yearbooks I borrowed from Theo. I spent a couple of hours last night scouring through the pages, making notes and whittling down a list of about forty possible names.
Forty.
“Feeling nostalgic?” Tee asks, nodding at where I set the yearbook on the table.
“No. I was actually hoping for your help to see what you know about some people.”
This comment naturally leads to a number of questions, so I have to explain the situation as well as I can, my attempt to remain vague foiled by Tee’s intrigued curiosity. Our food arrives by the time she’s finally satisfied as to why I’m asking her about random former schoolmates.
The list includes everyone I couldn’t immediately cross off for obvious reasons and who basically fit the criteria I’ve laid out for my pen pal as well as those I know nothing about in order to judge. Tee suggests going over the list quickly at first so she can help eliminate more of them.
She’s able to help me get rid of eleven names right away—most of whom have moved away since high school. As we eat, we cross off a few more and organize the remaining twenty-four into two different lists. More likely and less likely.
I’m pleased as I gaze down at my new shorter list of twelve most likely possibilities when our plates and the coffeepot are empty. This is a much more workable number. I might actually be able to come up with a solution to this mystery if this is the list of options.
“It’s a rather odd thing for you to be focused on right now, isn’t it?” Tee asks, her sharp eyes scrutinizing my face.
“Is it odd? It’s a puzzle, and I want to figure it out.”
“I understand that, but this is a lot of time and mental effort to be putting into a purely intellectual pursuit.”
I laugh at her wording. “It’s more than intellectual, of course. It’s bugging me. I like this person, and I don’t understand why he won’t tell me who he is. I don’t like not knowing.”
“I can understand that. I’m curious too. But are you sure it’s not more than that?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you maybe having feelings for this person?”
I know what she’s asking. And it makes perfect sense to be asking me.
But I don’t know how to answer her.
“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she murmurs when I don’t reply for a minute.
“I’m not upset. Not really. But it’s not a simple question. I do have some feelings for this person, but they could mean anything. I don’t know enough about him to have any sort of well-defined feelings.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re still young, and you’ve healed after losing Chris. It’s natural to have feelings, and they currently don’t have a target, so maybe it’s become this person.”
“I think that’s probably right. I’ve been content. I really have. I think I’d be okay being single for the rest of my life. But that’s not what I really want. So maybe it’s loneliness and isolation that’s turned this random mystery person into... into someone I want.”
“That could be it. Or maybe there is real potential there. But I simply can’t see it going anywhere if the person insists on hiding.”
“You’re right. Of course you’re right. But I feel like I still need to know. Just so I can move on.”
Tee nods, thinking silently for a stretch of time until she finally concludes, “That makes sense to me. So I’ll help you as much as I can. Let me see the pictures of these people. Maybe the photos will spark more memories.”
We spend another fifteen minutes reviewing the pictures of the twelve remaining names on my list. I’m having a good time chatting with her and recalling every random anecdote I can to provide context for some of these guys when her eyes move over my shoulder.
“There’s someone who might be able to help us.”
Confused and surprised, I turn in my chair to look.
Theo Humphrey.
Of course it is.
He must have been in here for a while, eating with an unkempt guy in his early twenties. They are both standing next to their table, and Theo is shaking the other guy’s hand. They start to leave, but then Theo glances over to us and catches Tee’s eye.
He says something to his companion and walks over here as the other guy leaves the restaurant.
“Good morning,” he says, unsmiling as he reaches us. He’s focused on Tee, who gestured him over here. He gives me a couple of quick glances but nothing else.
“We need your help, Theodore.”
“We don’t really,” I murmur, embarrassed and shooting her a significant look.
She blithely ignores both the look and my words. “She’s trying to track someone down.”
“Yes, I know. She borrowed my yearbooks to conduct her investigation.”
“Oh, did she?” Tee arches her eyebrows at me. “Then have a seat for a few minutes and help us.”
“Tee,” I begin.
This time both she and Theo ignore my attempt to forestall his participation. He pulls out one of the extra chairs at our table and sits down. He’s dressed in khakis, an untucked button-up shirt, and a canvas jacket.
He looks good. More relaxed and casual than yesterday. He didn’t even shave this morning, and the stubble gives him a rugged look I’m not used to seeing on him.
He’s reached for the list on the page of my notebook, and he studies it wordlessly for a minute.
“You can cross off these two,” he says at last, pointing toward the third and the eighth name on the list.
“Why is that?”
“You said this person is a fan of Count of Monte Cristo, right? These two probably never finished a book in their lives.”
Tee snickers at his dry tone, and even I can’t deny the logic of his rationale. I neatly draw lines through the two names.
“See, I told you he’d be helpful. What else do you think?”
Theo shakes his head, his eyes focused down on the page. “I don’t know the others very well.”
I sigh. “Me either.”
“I guess we’ll have to talk to them.”
My shoulders stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“If you want to conduct a thorough investigation, then we’ll have to do some interviews. What do you think I mean?”
“I mean, you’re planning to do them with me?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
My mouth drops open. I turn toward Tee, who is visibly trying to refrain from laughing. “Because it’s not your thing. It’s mine.”
“But you’ll do better to have a detached observer to help you sort through the evidence.”
“I’m detached!”
He shakes his head at me, his mouth twitching just slightly.
For some reason, his expression makes me want to smile.
I don’t, of course. That would reward him for his obnoxious behavior.
“I’m capable of solving this mystery on my own,” I say.
“Of course you are, mija,” Tee says comfortingly. “But if he’s willing to help, why shouldn’t he?”
I sigh. If Tee has something in her head, nothing is going to get her to give it up. And I simply don’t have the energy or the will for a fight. “Fine. He can help a little.”
“Good.” Tee starts putting on her coat. “Why don’t you walk her home, Theodore? She walked all this way on her own. That will give you a chance to discuss everything.”
“Tee—”
“Now don’t argue. He’s not busy today, are you?”
“No. I was meeting with a client just now, but I don’t have anything else today.” He’s almost—almost—smiling. He clearly likes Tee.
A lot more than he likes me.
“So there. He’ll walk you home, Maya, and you can go over your list. You only have ten left. You can surely find an answer soon.”
***
AFTER WE SAY GOODBYE to Tee, I stay long enough to pay for our breakfast, and then Theo and I walk out of the restaurant together.
It’s a brisk, sunny morning, and I like the cool, fresh air as I breathe it in. It’s not even nine thirty yet on a Saturday morning in December. Most of the downtown shops and restaurants aren’t open yet, so the streets and sidewalks are mostly empty. The streetlight posts that line the roads are festooned with garlands and snowflakes that light up at night. There are a few new signs and storefronts from the Green Valley I remember, but the scene is still familiar. Pleasant.
Like home.
When I look back at Theo, I catch him watching me. “What is it?”
He shakes his head. “Why did you stay away for so long?”
I shrug, uncomfortable by the question. I’m generally a fairly open and honest person. I don’t mind sharing myself with other people, whether or not we’re particularly close. I don’t have a lot of boundaries and hang-ups about keeping my thoughts to myself, which is why I’ve been able to so easily fall into sharing private reflections with such a huge number of followers.
But it’s different writing a post online and sending it out to faceless numbers. That feels like less of a risk than answering Theo’s question.
Because it’s Theo. Someone I’ve known forever but never liked or trusted.
I’m not the kind of person who is able to put on a mask, so I either have to shut him down completely or else give him a genuine answer.
Shutting him down would be rude. It would feel mean, and that’s not me. He’s been helping me for whatever reason, so surely I owe him basic civility.
“I don’t know,” I say at last. “I guess I was kind of afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” He’s looking at me for real. Seeing me. His expression is sober and thoughtful.
At the moment, he doesn’t seem scowly and aloof. It feels like he’s really listening to me.
Which makes it safe enough for me to admit, “I was afraid if I came back I’d be... I’d be drowned in grief again. That being around all the places and people connected to Chris would be too much for me.”
“And is it?” he asks quietly. “Are you drowning?”
I shake my head. “I still feel sad sometimes. I miss him. But it’s different now. Green Valley still feels like home to me, but somehow it feels like it’s moved on the way I have.”
He doesn’t answer immediately, but when I shoot him a quick look, it’s clear he’s thinking about what I said. “Yeah. I guess it feels that way to me too even though I never went away. Like the town has reshaped itself without him.”
The choice of words hit me strangely. My throat tightens and my eyes burn. “In a way, it doesn’t seem right. It’s not fair that the void he left in the world gets filled eventually. He was important enough that that empty space should remain forever, but I guess that’s not how life works.”
“No.” Theo shifts strangely, making a weird gesture with his hand. Like he started to reach out but changed his mind. “It’s not right, but it happens anyway.”
“Do you have another best friend now?” I’ve been looking downward—at my boots and his shoes against the sidewalk—but I glance up as I ask the question.
He works his jaw briefly. “No. I don’t.” He waits a beat before he asks, “Have you found someone else to love?”
I shake my head. “No.”
For some reason, this brief, stilted exchange makes me feel closer to Theo than I ever have before. Chris was an only child, and his parents are shallow and self-involved. If anyone in the world misses Chris the way I do and understands the poignancy of the world going on without him, it’s Theo.
He takes a slightly raspy breath. Then he puts a light hand on his mouth as we start to walk in the direction of my campground. As we start, he reaches over to unhook the strap of my big bag from my shoulder so he can carry it for me.
I’m surprised by the gesture, but it must be second nature for him. Like rescuing me from the bullies back in school. He does it because that’s the way he’s been raised, whether the other person means something to him or not.
“Do you want to?” he asks after we’ve made it down two blocks in silence.
“Do I want to what?”
“Find someone else to love.”
There’s nothing hostile or accusatory in the question, but it rouses my defenses anyway. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I was just asking if you’d thought about it.”
“Of course I’ve thought about it.” My voice sounds tired—exhausted—to my own ears. “I’m twenty-eight years old. I’d like to find someone to spend my life with. Start a family with. I wanted that with Chris, and the desire doesn’t go away just because the person it was supposed to happen with is gone.”
“It might go away. I don’t much want to have another best friend again.”
I breathe heavily as I look up at him, trying to figure out whether he thinks I’m wrong to move on from Chris. “Just because you might want to close yourself down now doesn’t mean it’s the proper response or that I’ll necessarily feel the same way.”
“I wasn’t saying—”
“I get that it might be hard for you. To see me with someone else. That it might feel like a betrayal of Chris to you or something. But I... I can’t make my life an empty monument to what he should have been.”
“I’m not saying or implying that you should.” He sounds gruff now. He’s probably annoyed by my defensiveness. “So there is someone you’re interested in?”
“No,” I admit. “But there might be. One day. I know you’ve never liked me and you might not want to see it, but Chris wouldn’t want me to spend the rest of my life alone.”
“I know he wouldn’t.” He’s gruffer than ever, the words coming out with a low rumble in his throat. He jerks his head to the side, looking away from me. “I know that.”
I feel like I want to cry and like I want to jump out of my skin at the same time. I haven’t felt this way—so pulled to the edge emotionally—in a really long time, and it’s both scary and weirdly exciting.
The fear takes precedence. I rub my face and give myself a shake, like I might be able to physically shed the intense emotions. “Anyway, I don’t know why we’re even talking about this.” I honestly can’t remember if he brought it up or I did. “You really don’t have to walk me back and help with my pen pal investigation just because Tee pushed you into it.”
“I don’t mind. You’ve got me kind of interested in it too now.”
I shrug. Evidently it’s too much to hope for that he’d step back into the shadows of my life just because it would make me more comfortable.
“Plus maybe you could do a favor for me in return.”
I narrow my eyes. “I never asked you for help with this, but you’re expecting me to do something for you in return.”
“It seems like the polite thing to do.” His mouth is twitching slightly again in that way I saw earlier. The way that makes me want to smile.
“It seems like the obnoxious thing to do,” I mutter. Then, mostly out of curiosity, I add, “What did you want in return?”
“Chris’s folks gave me a couple of boxes of his old stuff when they were clearing out their house to sell. I’ve kept them in one of my closets without even opening them, but it feels like I should do something with the stuff. You want to help me go through it sometime?”
I don’t need to ask why his parents didn’t give the stuff to me. They never liked or approved of me. They’d been hoping Chris would choose the daughter of one of Green Valley’s wealthier families to marry so they could tie their family to a fortune.
And they were furious Chris changed his will and life insurance beneficiary to me as soon as we got engaged.
Of course they wouldn’t give me any of Chris’s belongings even if they were simply hoping to get rid of them.
“Yeah,” I tell Theo. “I’ll help you go through them.”
“You want to do it soon or wait until after the holidays?”
I take a breath and come to my answer quickly. “Let’s do it right away, if you don’t mind. I’d like to get the hard stuff done before Christmas.”
“You got it. Why don’t you come over to my place this afternoon? We can get it done today.”
***
SO LATER THAT DAY, at just after three thirty, I show up at Theo’s apartment building.
He has to buzz me in the main door, and I walk upstairs to his unit on the second floor. His place is a nice-enough one bedroom in a fairly new complex. It’s nothing fancy or luxurious, but it’s got a small, updated kitchen and a decent-size balcony.
His furnishings are good quality but minimal—a leather couch, one upholstered chair, a side table, a large television on the wall, and a desk in the main room since there are no available rooms for a home office. Every available surface is covered with stacks of books.
When I’ve scanned the place, Theo lifts his eyebrows at me. “Well? What’s your verdict?”
“It’s got potential, but you really need some art on the walls and a couple of area rugs. Did you just move in? How long have you lived here?”
“A year and a half,” he admits dryly.
I choke on a laugh. “What’s your grudge against colors? Everything is brown.”
“I like brown.”
“Of course you do.”
“If you want to pick out art for the walls, I’d be happy to buy and hang it, but you’ve got to already know I’d be useless at figuring it out for myself.”
“I suspected.” I’m blushing slightly at the idea of picking out art for Theo’s apartment. It feels like an intimate thing to do, so why do I like the idea of it?
“You want something to drink?”
“I’ll take some water.” I nod toward the two big cardboard boxes set on the floor in front of the couch. “Is this them?”
“Yeah.”
He goes to pour us both some water while I take a seat on the couch. It is a very comfortable couch. I have to give him that much.
When he comes to sit beside me, I sip the water while he leans over to open the closest box.
Inside is a motley assortment of Chris’s stuff from his childhood bedroom. He had everything that really mattered to him in the apartment I cleared out after he died, but he’d obviously left some stuff at his parents’ house. That’s what’s in these boxes.
We pull out textbooks, school notebooks, posters he had on his wall, worn T-shirts, a pair of old sneakers, trophies from track meets he placed in, a framed certificate for being the all-star on the debate team during senior year, some old beer bottles he saved from college. Even the bedding from his bed.
“They must have just piled everything from his room into here,” I say at last, looking at the assorted stuff around us after we empty both boxes.
“Yeah. Maybe they kept something, but I can’t see what.” He smiles down at one of the posters for a local band that was popular when we were in high school. “Most of this stuff didn’t mean anything to him.”
“Yeah. He wouldn’t have left it in their house if it did. I think we can probably trash most of it, unless you want to keep it for some reason. I mean, all these notebooks...” I flip through a couple of them, but there’s nothing in them but some school notes and a few silly sketches. I find one he did of me and tear out the page so I can keep it.
“We can probably give away the bedding and some of the books to the thrift shop. But these shirts are too old for anyone to want.”
“They weren’t even ones he really liked. Let’s just throw them out.”
We get through with school stuff, the bedding and the clothing, sorting between trash and giveaway.
Then Theo picks up a trophy, shaking his head at it.
“He didn’t care about those silly trophies.”
“No.” Decided, he chucks the rest of them into the box we identified as trash.
I’m inspecting one of the beer bottles when I glance over to see Theo looking down at the poster again. “Keep that if you want. Y’all went to a ton of their concerts.”
Theo nods and rolls it up neatly. “You keeping the bottles?”
“I don’t think so. Why on earth would he have kept them?”
“Two of them y’all drank on a date to a waterfall somewhere? The other ones were on your nineteenth birthday.”
I stare down at the bottles, my throat tightening again. The date to the waterfall was when he first told me he loved me. My nineteenth birthday was the first time we had sex.
Chris wasn’t a particularly sentimental man, but he loved me, and he kept these on purpose because of what I meant to him.
I blink down at the bottles until I’ve recovered. “I’ll keep these,” I manage to rasp.
“Okay.” Theo is still for a minute until I’m able to look back up at him. Then he holds up the old sneakers.
I shrug. “Just toss them, I guess.”
We make it through everything else fairly quickly, and nothing else evokes another storm of emotion. Theo closes both boxes by tucking in the flaps on alternating sides and then scrawls TRASH on one and GIVEAWAY on the other.
“There,” he says. “That’s done. Thanks for helping.”
“You’re welcome. Thanks for saving them.”
We sit in silence side by side on the couch, both of us staring down at the boxes. After a stretch of time, Theo asks gruffly, “You okay?”
I glance over, but he’s not even looking at me. “I’m okay. What about you?”
“I’m okay too.”
“Okay. Good.” I swallow. “Okay.”
We’re saying okay too much, but I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know why I feel close to Theo right now—closer than I ever would have imagined I could. I’ve never even liked the man. Why do I feel like I know him better than almost anyone else? Why do I feel like we’re somehow together in this when we’ve never been together in anything?
“I guess that’s it then,” I say at last.
“Yeah. I guess so. Thanks again.”
“Sure.” I make myself stand up because who knows what I’ll do or say if I linger here much longer. “You still want to help me talk to the guys on that list? You really don’t have to.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I’ve got nothing better to do tomorrow. We might as well see if we can track down as many as we can.” He stands up too since I’m obviously getting ready to leave.
I nod. “Okay then. Thanks. I’ll text you tomorrow morning when I’m ready to get going. It won’t be too early.”
“I’ll be ready anytime after eight.”
“Right.” I give myself a little shake as I reach for my bag. “I’ll take off then.”
He nods. “See you.”
Since there’s absolutely nothing else to say, I get out of there fast.