by Kim Harrison
Meg spun, her planned morning rushing back. It was Haley, still a block away, looking like a cover model for a woman’s magazine in white capris, red top, and a white, wide-brimmed hat in her hand. Sandals scuffing noisily, she walked down the sidewalk with a casual grace, her blond hair catching the light that peeped through the thick oaks.
Meg looked down at her own jeans and light weight black sweater. At least I don’t look like a tree-hugging art teacher, she thought disparagingly. “Hang on. I’ll be right back. Let me get my purse. I’ve got a list of apartments all ready to check out,” she called. She’d change, but then Haley would want to come inside.
“Meg, you’re just the best!”
Waving Haley to stay where she was, she took one last look at the street before dashing upstairs and into her apartment. Her pulse was fast, not because Haley might have seen that ugly confrontation if she’d been two minutes sooner, but that she desperately didn’t want Haley to follow her in. Nothing was going to ruin today. Not a protective boyfriend, not a worrywart psychiatrist, and not some guy who was wacked out on way too many meds.
Eight
“It was so nice of you to make a list of furnished apartments for Rorry and me,” Haley said, her voice bright as her low-heeled sandals clicked smartly on the sidewalk. “I would have just gone on some lame website and ended up with a drab hole in the wall under a family with four kids and a dog.”
“I don’t mind. It was fun.” Haley’s steps were exactly in time with Meg’s softer scuffing, and it made Meg feel special.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you doing this with me,” Haley continued, her words so fast it seemed unlikely that she even heard Meg. “Rorry says thank you, too. I mean, a single woman, going to look at apartments in a new town? He is such a worrier. He’d come himself, but he’s out doing errands.”
Meg watched Haley’s perfect, red-painted toenails, moving with a hypnotic rhythm. She’d never had her toenails painted except once for a wedding. “It’s not a problem,” Meg tried to wedge in, but Haley hardly slowed to take a breath.
“Rorry couldn’t stop talking about last night. I know he complains a lot when he’s not the center of attention, but he really did have fun. He’s always so serious. It did him good to do something that had no meaning but for spending time with people you like.”
Serious? Meg thought, then looked up, surprised to find Haley squinting to make her look vulnerable. “I like spending time with both of you, too,” Meg said, and Haley’s smile widened.
“I can’t tell you how glad I am that you stopped to help me yesterday,” Haley said, then abruptly stopped. “Here we are! I’ve got a reservation.”
Meg’s attention rose, her smile fading as a sick feeling rose up from her gut. “S-Swanks?” she stammered, embarrassed. It was the nicest restaurant on campus, the place where you went with your family when you got your doctorate or were entertaining the president of the United States, maybe. Meg couldn’t go in there. Not in blue jeans and no makeup. Haley might be dressed for it, but she wasn’t. “Uh, I didn’t know they served breakfast,” she said, sneakers solidly planted on the sidewalk as Haley practically floated to the door.
“They do if you’re staying here.” Stunning in her crisp outfit, Haley waited, her hand on the door.
Meg’s eyes traveled up the four-story edifice to linger on the foreign flags. They were staying at the University Rail? Of course they are. Probably the top floor. “I can’t go in there,” Meg said, fingers playing with her necklace nervously.
Lips pressing impatiently, Haley’s touch on the door fell. “I told you, they serve breakfast if you have a room.”
Haley began to push the door open, and Meg took a step forward, not wanting to be left behind even as her palms began to sweat and her head to hurt with the beginnings of a migraine. “Haley, I’m sorry, but I’m not dressed for it. I thought we were just going to meet for coffee before going apartment hunting.”
Haley jerked back from the open door. The scent of fabulous coffee and the sound of a live harp drifted out before it slipped shut behind her. A slight frown marred her perfection as she stood on the stoop and looked Meg up and down as if only now really seeing her. “I wanted to thank you for your help today,” she said as if that was all that mattered. “Coffee isn’t going to do it.”
Meg took an imploring step closer, feeling as if everything was about to crash down to a jumbled rubble of “should’ve, could’ve.” But she could not go in there, and her heart beat faster as panic began to pool in her. “I’m not… dressed right,” she said, gesturing at herself as something very close to shame rose. She was a hick, a backwoods, one-room school teacher compared to Haley’s cosmopolitan polish and tastes. “There’s a coffee shop just a block down,” she said, warming. “They won’t be busy on a Saturday until noon, and they have great apple turnovers.”
“Apple turnovers?” Haley echoed, and a new embarrassment filled Meg. She and Austin had shared one every Saturday morning, but under Haley’s scrutiny, the quaint tradition seemed vapid.
Meg clenched her purse, suddenly more scared of losing Haley’s friendship than the ugly looks she might get inside. “Or we can eat here,” she said, voice breathy and panic swallowing her.
“No,” Haley said, and Meg’s eyes shot to hers, looking for, but not seeing, disappointment. “The coffeehouse is fine, but I’m going to get you into Swanks before the weekend is out, Meg. Even if I have to take you shopping to do it.”
Shoulders easing, Meg breathed a sigh of relief as Haley joined her on the sidewalk. Swanks was a nice idea, but one that wouldn’t happen. Haley was silent as they continued down the sidewalk, and guilt slowly pushed out Meg’s relief.
“I’m sorry,” Meg said, imagining she saw a hint of annoyance in Haley’s sudden, bright smile.
“No, I should have told you my plans,” Haley said, but her pace wasn’t as brisk, and it made Meg feel even worse.
Meg lurched to get the door for Haley when they got to the coffeehouse, and Haley went in before her, the woman’s expression empty as she scanned the nearly empty tables and tall ceilings that had always made Meg feel comfortable. “This is nice,” Haley said, staring at the barista who was ignoring them as she played something on her phone. “There’s a table there in the sun. Why don’t you claim it?” she added, but it was more of a demand than a request. “I’ll get the coffee. What do you want to eat?”
“I’m fine,” Meg said, though the thought of one of those apple turnovers made her stomach pinch. “Haley, I don’t mind getting my own coffee.”
“You won’t let me do anything for you, will you,” Haley protested. “You treated us to putt-putt last night. The least I can do is get you breakfast. You sure you don’t want something?” She leaned to look into the cold shelves. “Ugh. Apple turnovers. I can’t stand apples. All mushy paste. Wait, they’ve got lemon tarts,” she added, her mood brightening. “You want one? That’s what I’m going to have.”
Meg looked into the case. The apple turnovers looked luscious with gooey frosting dripping down and a light, flakey crust that Austin would have tried to snitch from her. There was no way she was going to have one now. Shoulders slumping, she eyed the dull yellow tart. “Why don’t you grab that table by the window? I don’t mind getting breakfast if you want to get lunch,” she said, and Haley’s bright expression faded. “I just want coffee,” she explained. She couldn’t eat her usual apple turnover in front of Haley. Coffee would do.
Beaming, Haley gave Meg’s arm a squeeze. “Deal. Can you get me one of those double caramel frappés? And maybe a lemon tart?”
Meg nodded, her attention flicking to the man making a beeline to the counter to slip in ahead of them. “Sounds good.” Meg gave him a disparaging look. “Go sit down. We don’t both have to stand in line, and that way, doofus there won’t take the table we want.”
Haley snorted her agreement, the delicate sound making Meg smile even more. “Good idea, and thanks,” she
said, giving Meg’s arm a touch before sauntering to the table in the sun and grabbing a few napkins along the way.
An odd feeling of disconnection was beginning to take hold as Meg settled in behind the man now ordering a labor-intensive ice-and-fruit drink. The hum of her phone drew her attention, and she fumbled for it, shoulders rising when she saw it was Austin, texting her to find out where she was.
Out with Haley, she texted back, still mad at him.
She jumped when her phone rang in her hand, her grip tightening as she stared in annoyance at his name glowing on the screen and remembered when she couldn’t wait for him to call. Now, she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to talk to him—not when she was still trying to decide if she wanted to break up with him. She did, but Dr. Jillium might be right that it was the meds making her hasty.
I am going to make myself crazy. Meg took a slow breath, finger hesitating over the accept button. He had stuck with her through the worst of her panic attacks. She knew it hadn’t been easy. Austin had come into her life when everything was at its worst, reminding her that things would get better and that someday she might be entirely free of it. Not to mention very few people would be willing to watch her cart around her emotional baggage until she found the ability to leave it by the side of the road.
“What can I get you?” the woman behind the counter asked, and Meg let the call go to voicemail.
“Two double caramel frappés and two lemon tarts, please,” she said, suddenly needing to share something with Haley more than the pleasure of eating what she really liked. Her palms were sweating as the woman punched it all in, and Meg finished up with the card reader while she got the pastries.
Haley was at the table when she turned, the classy woman wiping the crumbs to the floor with a napkin and evaluating the results with a careful scrutiny. A shaker of cinnamon was sitting on the table as if it was a centerpiece, clearly taken from the nearby coffee bar. Fidgeting, Meg played with her necklace as she waited, jamming her phone to the bottom of her purse so she wouldn’t hear if Austin called again.
“Here you go,” the barista said, and Meg jumped, dropping her necklace as two large coffees and a bag with the tarts were slid across the counter to her.
“Hey, can I have a second fork?” Meg asked, and the woman jerked to a halt in her rush to help the next person. Eyes rolling, she added another plastic fork, and Meg took it all.
Turning, she exhaled as she found Haley settled in the sun, looking like a modern-day goddess with her head down over her phone. She’d half expected the woman to be gone. “Coffee and tarts,” Meg said as she approached, and Haley, quickly hid her phone in her purse sitting on the chair beside her.
“Oooh, you got a caramel frappé too? You’re going to love it with the tart,” Haley predicted, but Meg just sighed as she sat down and looked into her coffee. It was a pale tan, full of milk and probably too much sugar. “It’s even better with cinnamon,” Haley added as she shook some from the shaker. “Rorry loves his with cinnamon,” she said as she shook even more into Meg’s cup.
Meg dutifully took a sip, stifling a shudder at the thick, almost syrupy texture. It could hardly be called coffee. “Mmmm, great,” she lied, and Haley carefully tore the bag to make it into a plate of sorts.
“Isn’t it to die for? It pairs up excellently with the tarts.” Haley’s gaze was on a woman across the street, walking her dog. “I love my dessert coffees.” Eyes bright, Haley delicately chose a tart, her nail polish gleaming as she angled it to take a tiny bite, completely ignoring the plastic fork. “Mmmm, this is good. I hope I didn’t get you up too early.”
“No, it’s fine.” Shunning a fork as well, Meg mimicked Haley and picked up her tart, warming at the black paint in her cuticles, and that her nails were too short to ever be considered pretty. As expected, the tart was a sugar bomb, and Meg’s chewing slowed as she wondered if it was going to curdle the milk in her coffee and give her a stomachache. Maybe that’s what the cinnamon was for. But Haley had been so nice that not eating it wasn’t an option. Trying to get rid of it, Meg took a huge bite. She washed it down with a gulp of coffee, shuddering at the sickening sweetness.
“I had no idea that the sun made it into my apartment this time of year,” Meg said, and Haley’s attention came back from the street.
“Oh, I did get you up too soon,” she gushed, hand reaching to touch Meg’s atop the table. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so selfish. You’ve been so nice to me. You have no idea how hard it is to be moving all the time. You have to be so bright and perfect to make friends, and you’ve been so wonderful. I feel as if I can relax around you and just be myself.”
Her perfect, perfect self, Meg thought, taking another bite of the tart. If she worked at it, she might get it all down in four gulps. “No, I should be the one thanking you. I’d have nothing to do today if you hadn’t asked me to help you find a place.” Nothing but sit around in that brown apartment, that is. She could paint for only so long. Eventually she had to come up for air to eat and sleep—and the world would be there, waiting for her.
Haley eyed Meg over the rim of her coffee. “Is Austin still being a dick and not apologizing for whatever he did?”
Meg blinked in surprise, then smiled, but it faded fast. “It’s not him. It’s me,” she said, but this time, it was true, and she pushed the tart crumbs together into a little hill, avoiding the last piece. “I might be outgrowing him. I don’t know. He moved out a few days ago,” she admitted. “And my apartment is empty of him and full of him all at the same time. I can’t tell if I miss him, or if I just don’t want to be alone. It doesn’t help that that vagrant you saw last night was stuffing coupons in my mailbox this morning.”
Haley set her coffee down, her brow furrowed in concern. “Are you serious? Right outside your apartment? Goodness. Maybe he’s a fired postal worker that went postal.”
Meg laughed. She didn’t really want to talk about it, and that she’d opened up even this much left her uneasy. But everyone had trouble with their boyfriend now and again. That it was because he talked to her psychiatrist behind her back didn’t need to enter the conversation. Haley was so together, she didn’t even need a boyfriend. She wasn’t afraid of anything.
Frowning, Meg shoved the thought away. “I’ve got three good options and four maybes lined up this morning depending on how close you want to be to the center of campus,” she said, head down as she dug in her purse for her phone. “I emailed them all last night, so they know we’re coming over sometime today to take a look. The sooner the better because two furnished rooms go fast. I’m surprised there’s even any out there.”
Pretty and lucky both, Meg thought as she scrolled through her phone and brought the apartment app alive. A map of campus decorated with little blue flags popped up, and smiling, she turned it so Haley could see.
Haley brushed her fingers off and reached for the phone. An oddly vulnerable look made her perennial smile seem forced. “Meg, Rorry is going to be gone for a few days starting tonight. If we find a place today, why don’t you stay over? Help me move in, maybe?” she asked.
Meg froze, a thrill of belonging racing through her.
“Just until he gets back,” Haley rushed, clearly mistaking Meg’s deer-in-the-headlights stare. “It more fun shopping with someone else. I’ve done it alone so often, it’s almost a chore. Please say you’ll come with me?”
“Um, I don’t want to impose,” Meg started, remembering the awful feeling of being out of her league as she stood on the sidewalk at Swanks.
“Impose? I’m asking you!” Her smile warm and real again, Haley gave Meg’s hand a squeeze. “And as I said, Rorry will be gone tonight. We could take a few days. Do a girl’s weekend shopping. I’ve seen furnished apartments before, and furnished doesn’t mean finished.” Haley let go of Meg’s hand, her eyes rolling. “I could use some help picking out everything to make it look homey and nice. And to tell you the truth, it would make me feel better with someone else there the fi
rst couple of nights. I’m not superstitious, but I don’t like to be alone. And with that vagrant wandering around playing postman, you shouldn’t be either,” she finished, eyebrows bunched to make her look serious and pretty both.
“You want me to help you pick out your furnishings?” Excitement sifted through Meg, then dread. What if Haley didn’t like what she suggested?
“Pillows, rugs, plants. There’s no way to go wrong with any of it.” Haley blotted up the last of her crumbs from the napkin and ate them off her finger. “Oh, tell me you will,” she added, plaintively. “It will burn Austin’s britches when he finds out that you don’t need him as much as he thinks. Can you imagine his face if he stops over and finds you gone? All weekend?”
Meg began to smile. Burn his britches? It would at that. Dr. Jillium would be pleased that she was doing something out of her comfort zone. And frankly, she needed to get out of that apartment. Meg couldn’t make up her mind while she was surrounded by him, even when he was gone.
“It sounds like fun,” she said, and Haley almost jumped up and down in her chair. “If we can find a place today, I don’t see why not.”
“This is going to be wonderful!” Haley gushed, then drank the last of her coffee down in one go. “What’s the first place on the list?” she said, startling Meg when she shifted to sit beside her so she could see her phone better. “We can get you some new shoes while we’re out. Something to wear into Swanks. My treat. I won’t take no for an answer. I owe you dinner, now, not just breakfast.”
Meg felt light, her stomach knotting from the sour tart fading into nothing as Haley pressed close to see, the woman completely oblivious to how special she was making Meg feel. “I thought we could start with the one on Liberty,” Meg said, the sweet coffee tasting better every time she sipped it. “There won’t be any morning sun, but lots in the afternoon.”
Nine