The next morning, Maisie didn’t hide behind the window like she usually did; she stood boldly behind it, offering Stuart a slight wave when he whizzed past. He grinned and nodded, and rounded the same corner she’d seen him round many times before. She’d already decided to bake him something sweet while he was away, certain he’d not only accept it, but that it would be received in a different manner than all the times she’d tried before.
Forty-five minutes and a dozen warm cookies later, she was in position, watching and waiting on his front porch. She felt giddy, a small twitch of nervous anxiety she hadn’t experienced since she’d dated Lee in high school. She wondered what he’d think when he rode up, saw her there, and whether or not he’d seem happy.
Would he kiss her again?
And if he did, would it be on the cheek this time?
Or what if she was wrong and the kiss had been nothing except Stuart’s way of making peace after their little spat?
Second-guessing herself and Stuart’s possible motive behind his casual kiss, she stood, deciding to leave the cookies on the front porch instead of waiting there to hand them over personally. If he got them and liked them, he could always come over and thank her on his own terms and in his own time.
Yes.
It was a much better idea.
Time to allow a man to make a move on her for once.
She glanced at the time on her cell phone, realizing she’d been there far longer than she thought. Stuart was late. And Stuart was never late. She slipped the plate of cookies onto the doormat and walked home, every few seconds pausing a moment to glance over her shoulder, expecting to see Stuart rounding the corner any moment. She reached her front porch and sat down.
Fifteen minutes passed.
No Stuart.
Then thirty.
Then forty-five.
And then ... panic.
Something wasn’t right.
She could feel it.
She ran inside the house, grabbed her car keys, and drove through the neighborhood, stopping at the end of each block, looking left, looking right, almost thinking she saw him once, but then, no. It wasn’t him. It was someone else.
Nine blocks into her search she noticed a small crowd gathered in the middle of the street, cars stopped on both sides, onlookers gazing upon something she could not yet see. She pressed on the gas, racing to what turned out to be a crash between two vehicles—an SUV and a coupe. The coupe was about half of its original size, upside down, empty. The SUV had fared a lot better, with only a few huge dents on one of its sides.
Two patrol cars were off to the side, lights flashing.
An ambulance was parked in the center of the street, lights also flashing.
Maisie skidded to a stop, threw open the car door, and ran.
In the center of the chaos, between the two cars, was the one thing she didn’t want to see: Stuart’s bike.