Chapter
fourteen
Are you all right?” Zander asked his aunt when she opened the door to admit them.
“I’m better now that you two are here.”
When he embraced her, she held on to him for longer than usual. He stood, holding her fragile frame, allowing his stability to transfer to her until she was ready to step back.
The sound of dog paws against the hardwood floor drew Zander’s attention. A chubby mutt trotted toward their position in the foyer on its short, stubby legs.
“Did you get a dog?” Zander asked.
“Yes. A dog,” Carolyn answered. “I’ve been spending a good bit of time with friends lately. But whenever I’m here alone, I’ve been keeping the television on and playing music. You know, so it won’t feel so solitary? None of that was helping enough.” She resettled the brightly patterned scarf she wore in a loop around her neck. “I’m not usually a lonely person. In fact, I’ve always enjoyed time alone. But now that Frank . . . isn’t coming back, whenever I’m alone here at the house it doesn’t feel peaceful so much as oppressive.”
“I get it,” Britt said.
Though Zander suspected that Britt had never found solitude oppressive in her life.
“Sunny suggested I consider adopting a dog. I was feeling really blue earlier today, so I stopped by the animal shelter. They had a few cats but only one dog. Aurora here seemed to need someone to love her, and since the feeling was mutual, she came home with me.”
Zander and Britt dropped to their haunches to greet the newcomer. “Aurora?” Zander asked.
“The people at the shelter gave her that nickname because, like Sleeping Beauty, she enjoys sleep.”
Zander had never seen a dog with less in common with Sleeping Beauty. This mutt wasn’t young or pretty. Her face was graying with age. Her nose was too pointy and too long for her body’s proportions. Her ears drooped. Her fur grew unevenly. Aurora might have some corgi in her bloodline, though Zander suspected AKC corgis would have been disgusted by the prospect that Aurora could be their relative.
Britt scooped Aurora into her arms as they stood and asked Carolyn questions about the dog. She held Aurora confidently, rubbing beneath the dog’s chin. Aurora half closed her eyes. Her rib cage expanded rhythmically.
Britt had on cargo pants, a V-neck black shirt, and gold oval earrings that sparkled against her neck. The dark mane of her hair framed her warrior princess face.
Each time he’d looked at her tonight, the sensory details of their kiss had flooded his mind. The warmth of her lips. The way she tasted. The lithe strength of her body.
She was determined and adventurous. She was a genius with chocolate. She was persistent, brave, and funny. She was loyal, and at the very core of her being, she was good.
He’d been introduced to plenty of women. Beautiful women. Impressive women. None of them had been as beautiful to him as she was. None had the mix of qualities she had that made her uniquely irresistible to him.
Could it be that no other woman had measured up to Britt because he’d been young and shell-shocked and grasping for something to cling to when he’d fallen in love with her? Maybe the love that formed in you when you were a teenager was the most powerful love there was.
Except that no one else he knew had continued to love the girl they’d fallen for when they were fourteen.
If he hadn’t met Britt until yesterday, he believed that he’d have fallen in love with her yesterday just as completely as he had all those years ago. His love for her stemmed from who she was. And who he was. And the alchemy between them.
“I took Aurora by the pet store and got all the necessary supplies,” Carolyn was saying to Britt. “A bed, a leash. Bowls. Food.”
Realizing that he’d been staring at Britt, Zander pulled his attention to his aunt.
“Once Aurora and I returned home,” Carolyn said to him, “I decided to finish going through the closet.”
“And you found a cell phone,” Zander said.
Carolyn gave a subdued nod. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw it.” She met Britt’s eyes. “I’ve been reorganizing Frank’s side of the closet. I’ve found other items of his. Little notes. Spare change. A business card.”
“Have you checked the cell phone yet?” Zander asked.
“No. To be honest, I’m afraid to. I’m not sure that I’m ready for another shock.”
What would he do if he discovered something on Frank’s hidden cell phone that would devastate Carolyn? She’d just said she wasn’t ready for another shock and, frankly, he agreed. She wasn’t. “Are you okay with me checking it?”
“Yes. I plugged the phone in. It’s been charging in the home office.”
Zander led the way into the small room at the front of the house. For a moment all three of them simply stared at the phone while Carolyn screwed her hands together into a nervous ball. The cell phone looked to be a few years old. No case. It lay there, proof of Frank’s secrets.
“Would you like me to take Aurora?” Carolyn asked Britt.
“Actually, I’m enjoying holding her. She’s lying in my arms like a warm sack of flour. It’s comforting.”
Zander gestured for Carolyn to take the desk chair as he powered on the cell phone. “It’s passcode protected. It’s asking for a four digit code.”
Carolyn exhaled.
“What were Frank’s usual passwords?” he asked.
“His birth year.”
He tried it. Shook his head.
“Six three six three, the last four digits of his Social Security number.”
He tried it, shook his head again.
“His debit card PIN number was zero two one one, his birthday and mine.”
No.
After that, Carolyn had to work harder to come up with possibilities. Zander continued to enter each one, without success. “That’s it for tonight,” he eventually said. “The phone just froze me out.”
“Will the phone allow you to try again?” Carolyn asked.
“I’ll be able to try again in twenty-four hours.”
“Okay, good. That’ll give me time to brainstorm more passcode ideas.”
Aurora snored quietly.
“Can you hack into the phone without a password?” Britt asked him.
“Not with the skills I have,” he answered. “You?”
“Nope,” Britt said. “I never did take up the hobby of hacking.”
“I could wipe the phone, but then everything on it will be lost, which defeats the purpose.” He lowered his brows as he considered Carolyn. “Uncle Frank must’ve been paying for this phone somehow. You never saw a charge on your family account?”
“No, and I would’ve noticed. Do . . . Do you think he had a bank account in his name that I don’t know about?”
“If so, no statements from that account ever came to the house,” Carolyn said.
“He might have opted to go paperless with his banking,” Zander said.
“In which case, he could have managed the account by logging in on a computer or with an app on his phone,” Britt speculated.
“Which gives us even more motivation,” Zander said, “to figure out this phone’s code.”
A week passed.
A week during which Britt continued to hope that her dangerous crush on Zander would scatter on the wind and blow away.
The two of them went hiking in Olympic National Park.
The Bradfords helped Nora transfer the bulk of her things to John’s house so that she’d feel right at home when she moved in after the honeymoon.
Britt and Zander volunteered at Britt’s church, providing childcare to one-year-olds. The job exhausted them both so much that they staggered to Britt’s house afterward to chain-watch movies while making quips under their breath about the characters and plot in a bid to make the other one laugh.
Zander took Carolyn on a day trip to visit her daughters and help Courtney assemble her baby’s nursery.
Zander brought his laptop to Britt’s house one night, and they sat at her kitchen table, combing their computers for information about Emerson Kelly. They found nothing.
They visited the gym and powered through an interval workout on adjacent rowing machines that caused them both to pour sweat.
Every day, Carolyn and Zander tried—and failed—to crack the code on Frank’s cell phone.
And through it all, Britt’s crush on Zander remained.
It was as tenacious as a spring weed.
As strong as titanium.
“Did you ask Nora about tracking down Emerson and Ricardo’s arrest record for the theft of the Modigliani paintings?” Zander asked Britt on a stormy Thursday night nine days before Nora and John’s wedding.
“I did.” She’d made Korean spare ribs, daikon, and chrysanthemum greens for their dinner. They’d recently finished eating, and she was handing him dishes so that he could expertly load them into her dishwasher. Zander took the pursuit of perfect dishwasher loading seriously.
“She was able to find the arrest record,” she told him, “because they’re public and because she understands how to request them in the right way and in the right places. The record’s of no help to us, though. It only lists information we already know: Emerson and Ricardo’s names, the date and place of the arrest, and the charge.” Britt handed him the final two pieces of silverware and turned off the faucet.
He closed the dishwasher and straightened, a dish towel draped over one shoulder. He looked unreasonably appealing. Men who did dishes spoke her love language.
“What about the victim?” he asked. “Maybe the person who owned the stolen paintings would be willing to talk to us about the details of the case.”
“You know what, Zander?” she said slowly. “That’s actually sort of genius.” She rushed to her computer, sliding a little in her socked feet. “I found an article the other night that talked about the theft, and I think it mentioned the owners by name.” She brought up the website she’d bookmarked and skimmed the article. “There,” she said triumphantly, pointing to the screen. “Grant and Callista Mayberry.”
He smiled at her and, for the love of chocolate, desire zinged through her.
She called Nora while Zander scrubbed her counters and table. Within minutes, Nora produced a phone number for the Mayberrys.
“Do you want to call them or do you want me to?” Zander asked Britt.
“I’ll do it. I’m less threatening and more charming.”
Grant Mayberry—who sounded like a gregarious grandfather—responded to Britt’s call as though she were a long-lost friend instead of a cold-calling stranger.
“My wife and I are in Europe at the moment,” he told her, as casually as if he’d just said, We’re at the grocery store. “We’ll be back in five days. I’m looking at my phone calendar, and I see . . . yes . . . that I’m free a week from now. Do you and your friend want to make the trip out to Whidbey Island around four o’clock?”
“Yes! Absolutely.”
“Wonderful!”
After a few more minutes of conversation, they disconnected. She extended her fist, and Zander bumped it.
“Congrats,” he said.
“Congrats to you. You’re the one who thought to call the victim.” She padded to the living area and picked up the remote. “Movie?”
“Nah.”
“More episodes of Once Upon a Time?”
“Actually . . .” He hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “My flight to St. Louis is leaving pretty early tomorrow. I’m going to head back to the inn, pack, and get some sleep.”
She tried not to look disappointed. It was precisely because she knew he was leaving for the weekend that she’d been looking forward to spending time with him tonight. “That sounds like a very responsible choice.”
“I like to be responsible every now and then.”
“Not me.”
One dimple dug into his cheek. “I know.”
Britt opened her front door for him, holding it steady as wind riffled the inky strands of Zander’s hair.
Why are you leaving? You’re acting weird. That’s what she wanted to say and didn’t. It no longer seemed advisable to say the first thing that came to mind. “I hope you have a great trip. Say hi to Daniel for me.”
“I will.” He looked down, frowned a little, then looked up. “Don’t go kayaking alone while I’m gone.”
Her lips rounded upward. “Okay.”
The seconds spun out, each one elongating.
She said nothing.
He said nothing.
Finally, he gave her an extraordinarily stiff hug. The contact was as impersonal as if she were someone he’d never met who’d just handed him a congratulatory plaque at work.
He walked into the forbidding weather of a tumultuous night. Almost immediately, the darkness stole him from view.
She shut the door, groaned, then picked up a pillow and threw it irritably onto the floor. Another throw pillow. Hurl. Another. Fling.
She went to her kitchen and pulled a carton of Ben & Jerry’s Salted Caramel Core from her freezer. She wasn’t hungry for it, but at a time like this actual hunger for ice cream was irrelevant.
She sat on her sofa, but—nope—popped up within a few seconds. She carried the ice cream and spoon outside and sat on her front porch. The bad-tempered weather suited her better than the calm air indoors. Tucking her feet underneath her, she steadily spooned up bites of ice cream.
After kissing Zander on the beach, she’d been the one who’d given a speech aimed at convincing him that no harm had been done. She’d said some nonsensical thing about how they shouldn’t give the kiss any more weight than playing football on the beach.
Well, harm had been done.
And here she was, two weeks later, still giving the kiss a tremendous amount of weight.
They’d been working hard to go through the motions of their friendship. Clearly, they were both determined to forge on and salvage what they could.
It wasn’t working. Before that day on the beach, she’d feared that kissing him might wreck things.
The time had come to face that depressing fact.
They were doing and saying the right things. But their friendship didn’t feel right anymore. Awkwardness pervaded that which had never been awkward before. They were trapped in a painfully uncomfortable limbo and couldn’t return to the way things had been.
She’d always seen Zander first and foremost as her friend. Now she saw him as a man. A man with an emotional topography buried within him that she’d yet to fully explore. A man with physical needs she hadn’t acknowledged.
Maybe she should just confess her crush and tell him that she wanted to date him. He’d been the one who’d initiated their kiss, after all, which was promising. Her sisters might be right—a romance with Zander could lead them forward into something new and beautiful. Since they couldn’t go backward, what did she have to lose?
Except . . . Her heart sank a little.
Her sisters were in love, and neither of them could be trusted to think like a normal, sane person.
She set the ice cream aside.
Zander hadn’t said anything to her about wanting to date her either the day of their kiss or on any day since. He’d had numerous opportunities. So many! He hadn’t taken any of them, which forced her to question whether he had feelings for her. And if he did, how strong those feelings truly were. Her pride would take a beating if she told him she wanted to date him and he said no thanks.
Also, her dating track record wasn’t reassuring. If she’d had, say, one or two serious boyfriends in her past, then she’d have a reason to think that she could hold up her end of a long-term love. Instead, she was one of the most commitment-phobic people she knew.
Zander’s heart wasn’t easily given. But if he did give it to her, then she’d need to shoulder the huge responsibility that came with that. If she didn’t shoulder it successfully, if she ended up trampling on his heart, then she’d lose him completely. His tendency to distance himself from people who hurt him was a hand-me-down from his childhood, a defensive tactic she couldn’t blame him for.
Restlessness propelled her to her feet. She returned the remaining Ben & Jerry’s to the freezer. Then she dumped her dish and spoon into the dishwasher, ruining the masterpiece of Zander’s loading.
Anger throbbed in her temples, growing more insistent. She was angry with herself. And angry at Zander, too. He’d kissed her! He’d kissed her. A person shouldn’t kiss someone unless they were able to tell that person they liked them. A person shouldn’t kiss someone unless they were ready to deal with the issues a kiss might push to the surface. He hadn’t told her he liked her! He wasn’t ready to deal with the issues! If he had been, then maybe things wouldn’t be so stupidly strained between them.
To add insult to injury, he was leaving and flying to Missouri, and she’d miss him. She was glad he’d carved out time for a visit with his brother. Still! This small separation was a precursor of the much longer separation that was looming when Zander returned to his Grand Tour. And all of it was making her feel like she was losing her mind.
Too agitated to sit, she began assembling ingredients from her kitchen cupboards.
She’d make chocolate.
Interested in a girl’s night out? Hannah texted Britt, Maddie, and Mia two days later. I’m in the mood to dress up, eat fancy food, then go to a club.
Yes, please! Britt texted back. I’m in.
Maddie couldn’t make it, she had plans with Leo. But, luckily, Mia was also game.
Hannah now lived in the town of Shelton. Mia, farther away in Kamilche. Since Shelton was the largest of the three towns and located in the middle, they decided to meet there and entrust the planning to Hannah, the most social among them.
Ordinarily, Britt’s get-togethers with her high school friends were low-key. They’d cook together, then eat on the patio that jutted off the back of Mia’s apartment and offered a view of the water. They’d go to a restaurant in downtown Merryweather, then walk to Maddie’s place afterward for dessert.
Every once in a while, though, Hannah would get antsy and talk them all into a flashier night out. Ordinarily, Britt preferred their low-key gatherings. But this time? A flashy night out suited her perfectly.
Bring it on. Bring on the distractions of expensive food, laughter, and deafening music. She’d funnel all the edginess and dissatisfaction of the past weeks straight into her evening with Hannah and Mia.
She’d enjoy herself so much that she’d forget about her friend with the tattoos and the midnight blue eyes.
Music pounded the air inside the Dragonfly nightclub as ferociously as a boxer with a grudge. It smelled to Britt like beer, perfume, and anticipation. Looked like the inside of a kaleidoscope. And felt like a battle between the humid heat of dancing bodies and the building’s industrial air-conditioning units.
After dinner, Britt, Hannah, and Mia had met up with Hannah’s boyfriend, Kyle. Kyle had brought two of his friends with him. One was Reid, the guy who’d spilled his drink on Zander the night of her birthday party. Zander had hated him, a fact which made Reid more attractive this evening than he’d been before, thanks to her contrary state of mind.
Reid shouted conversation to her, and she shouted back. Britt learned that Reid played minor league baseball, was the eldest of four kids, and enjoyed skateboarding in his free time.
When her throat grew hoarse from the effort of talking, she tugged him onto the dance floor.
This was fabulous. Better than fabulous.
Reid seemed interested, which was gratifying because he was trendy, friendly, sporty, and impressively handsome.
Deliberately, she thought, Isn’t this fun? This is so much fun! Adventure sports and chocolate making and travel weren’t the only routes to pleasure.
She allowed Reid to buy her a glass of champagne. She wasn’t much of a drinker, in large part because she wasn’t much for relinquishing her self-control. But she and her girlfriends were enjoying a night out! She was young and healthy. She was wearing gray leather pants, a wildly colorful halter top, and earrings so long they brushed the upper tips of her shoulders. And all of this seemed to call for champagne. Just one glass.
Later, she checked her phone in the restroom and saw that Zander had sent her a second text. His first text had arrived in the midst of their Mexican cuisine meets American cuisine meets we’re-fashionable-so-we’re-going-to-charge-through-the-nose cuisine dinner.
He’d texted, What are you up to tonight?
She hadn’t replied because she’d been a) a little miffed at him and yet b) hadn’t wanted to upset him by telling him what she was up to.
This new text read, Are you okay?
He hadn’t heard back from her, so he was following up. If she didn’t respond, he’d worry.
Yes, she typed, I’m at a club in Shelton with Hannah and Mia.
Be safe, he messaged back.
Even here in the bathroom, music vibrated through the breathless female conversations. She tucked her phone into her back pocket and applied lipstick. So much fun! She didn’t have to answer to anyone, and it felt fantastic to be so free.
Her phone buzzed.
Another text from Zander. Who’s the designated driver?
Uber, she answered.
Will you text me when you get home to let me know you’re there?
What was this? Three seconds ago she’d been thinking how wonderful it was not to have anyone to answer to. You’ll be asleep, she typed.
Sure.
She returned to her group of friends and proceeded to laugh at Reid’s jokes. When he ordered her a second flute of champagne, she didn’t protest. The champagne tasted amazingly delicious, and she was feeling clear-headed, so no worries on that front.
This was so much better than laughing at Zander’s jokes while they watched TV. This is why she hadn’t settled down. She could go out with her friends at a moment’s notice. She could flirt with a cute guy she hardly knew. She could exercise her beloved independence.
The life she’d chosen was thrilling. Empowering!
Reid wore his sandy-colored hair long on top, the sides shaved into a fade. The style flattered his chiseled face.
She could predict how things would go between them. They’d text each other in the coming days and message on social media. He’d eventually invite her to join him somewhere for something, and they’d hit it off. She’d become infatuated with him and ride the giddiness of that for as long as it lasted. Then, two or four or six months from now, she’d grow bored. Her interest in Reid would deflate, and she’d ask him if they could just be friends.
She wouldn’t gamble so much as one penny on the possibility that Reid might be her soul mate. No, indeed. No hope of that. Which meant that having him as a boyfriend wouldn’t require her to risk her emotions or lay herself bare. All pleasure. No pain.
But not much depth, either.
She settled on a bar stool, then realized that it didn’t have good mojo. “Will you switch stools with me?”
“What? Why?”
“Just switch.” If she’d asked Zander to switch stools with her, he wouldn’t have had to ask why.
She hooked a high heel over the rung of her new stool—better mojo—and crossed her legs.
Reid picked up one of her hands and, idly, tested the firmness of her fingertips. Then he traced circles around her knuckles with a touch so light it almost tickled. Very smoothly done. Not only did the contact between them deliver a melody of delightful sensations, it also increased the intimacy between them without a creepy factor.
She waited to feel a rush of affection for Reid. He’d earned it! Deserved it.
The rush of affection didn’t come. She couldn’t dredge up any feelings for him stronger than indifference.
Maybe she’d grown weary of her predictable dating cycle. Maybe her devotion to Zander had grown too big to allow room for—
She wasn’t going to think about Zander tonight.
Why was having fun such hard work? She was exhausted from the exertion of it.
But she wasn’t a quitter.
She gave Reid a dogged grin.
“Another glass of champagne?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” Her earlier clear-headedness had dissipated. She hadn’t planned to get tipsy, but now that she was . . . Wow. She remembered how fantastic it felt. Self-control was perhaps ever so slightly overrated.
Her surroundings, along with her concerns, were losing their hard edges. Everything was fine. Nothing to worry about. Not Zander—whom she wasn’t going to think about. Not the peppermint truffle. Not Frank’s mysterious past. Not the big order she needed to tackle Monday morning at Sweet Art.
She worked really hard to be the best chocolatier, friend, daughter, and sister she could be. She wasn’t a burden to anyone, financially or emotionally. She took care of her business, and she helped others. She had her life together. People like her, people who had their lives together, were entitled to let their hair down every once in a while. Right?
Text messages written by Zander and deleted before sending:
Zander
Are you home yet? It’s midnight.
Zander
It’s 12:30 a.m. and I know you wouldn’t want me to worry and that I shouldn’t worry, but I am worried. So let me know that you’re all right, please.
Zander
I’m sorry if kissing you ruined everything between us.
Zander
Your face is the face I want to see when I open my eyes every morning. You’re my sun and moon and stars. You give my life heat and meaning and you also make me sick with anxiety because you’re not home yet and you could be hurt or you could be drunk or you could be making out with someone who’s not me.
Zander
Home yet? It’s 1:00 in the morning. There’s no way I can sleep until I know you’re safe.
Zander
Did you forget to text me when you arrived home?
Zander
I love you. I’ve always loved you.
Text message from Britt to Zander:
Britt
I’m home.
Zander
Cool. Thanks.