The Gossip

by Nancy Bush

  Finished, she recycled the paper bag and threw the plastic in the trash, then she collected a bottle of water from the refrigerator and drank about half of it down, before putting it back in the refrigerator. She would drink the rest in the afternoon.

  Before she left the kitchenette she grabbed the sponge and disinfectant cleaner and wiped down the table. She then lined up the sponge next to the faucet on the sink, straightened the salt and pepper shakers, and headed toward the narrow flight of stairs at the back of the kitchenette that led to the attic storeroom. There wasn’t a lot of headroom on the top floor so she had to duck as she started looking through the holiday supplies. She found Easter and started pulling them out. She preferred organization to working the front of the shop. She was good at putting things away and making sure they were in the right spots. St. Paddy’s Day was over and she needed to also pack leftover items into boxes for next year.

  Several hours later she was back on the main floor when she heard her sister’s and niece’s voices outside. They came in and Emma was glad Harley had come to pick her up as well. She loved Jamie and Harley. They were her family. And Duchess, of course.

  “Hey,” Harley greeted her with a high five. Emma didn’t mind high fives, but she didn’t like hugs very much. Harley was a junior at River Glen High. She’d been a sophomore last year when she and Jamie had moved back to River Glen from Los Angeles. Harley had fallen in love with a boy from school, but he’d graduated and had left town. Harley said they kept in touch, but she didn’t talk about him much anymore. Emma thought maybe it was over. That’s what happened with relationships sometimes. They were over.

  Harley had dark hair and it was long now and pulled into a ponytail. She’d started wearing more makeup and Jamie had told her it was “over the top,” which had made Harley mad but she’d stopped putting on the smoky eyeshadow some. Jamie’s hair was light brown, like Emma’s. Now Jamie smiled at Emma and asked, “So, how’d it go today?”

  “Fine.” This was the question Jamie always asked her. It was okay, though. It was just her sister’s way. Jamie was in love with Cooper Haynes, who’d been a friend and classmate of Emma’s in high school. If Emma had to leave Duchess at Ridge Pointe, either Harley or Emma or even Cooper usually came to take her outside during the day. But sometimes Emma had to ask that waiter-guy, Ian, the one who smoked marijuana cigarettes outside the building after hours. Emma and Duchess had caught him when they were outside on a walk to let Duchess do her business. “Want a hit?” he’d asked in a squeaky voice, holding the smoke in his lungs.

  “I don’t do drugs,” Emma had told him.

  “Neither do I,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smelly smoke. “Just toke a little.”

  Emma wasn’t sure whether she liked Ian or not. He was good with Duchess, but he also liked the cat and Duchess didn’t like the cat. There had been several hissy fits from the cat when Duchess barked at her.

  Emma said to Jamie, “Paige knocked over the blocks and they fell out of their net bag. I had to put them in a paper bag.” She picked up the net bag with the hole in it from the counter and showed them.

  “Excitement at the Thrift Shop, huh?” said Harley. “Who’s Paige?”

  “One of our customers’ little girls,” explained Theo.

  Duchess was on her feet and staring up at Harley expectantly.

  “No treats,” Emma warned her niece.

  “What did I do?” asked Harley.

  “You have treats in your pocket,” said Emma. She was pretty sure Harley knew that already.

  Harley made a sad face at Duchess, who got to her feet and nearly rushed Harley for a pet. “I know. It sucks,” Harley murmured. “You’re on doggy Weight Watchers.”

  “But she’s in good shape now,” Jamie reminded.

  Duchess had been eating too much after Emma went to Ridge Pointe. It had been hard for both of them to make the change, even though it was a good thing to do. Emma hadn’t been careful enough with Duchess, but like Jamie said, the dog was in good shape now. They were both happier.

  “Well, let’s get going,” said Jamie. “We’ve got dinner in our future and I’m substituting tomorrow.” Harley gave her a sharp look, and Jamie made a sound in her throat. “Freshman class. Not you,” she said on a huge sigh.

  “It doesn’t matter,” said Harley with a shrug.

  Emma kinda thought it did. Harley never liked her mom substituting for any of her classes, though Harley had admitted it didn’t bug her as much as when she was an underclassman. But it still bugged her.

  They drove directly to Jamie’s house, the house that was their mom’s before she died, the one they grew up in. Jamie was thinking of selling it but Harley had put her foot down. She didn’t want to move again, even across town. Also, Cooper was over a lot and Harley argued that they needed the space.

  “He practically lives with us,” Harley had told Emma. “Which is fine, but why do we have to move? I’d be okay if Marissa wanted to move in and take over your old room.”

  Marissa was Cooper’s daughter and Harley’s best friend. Emma had almost stayed at the house, too, because she loved her family, but she’d always wanted to go to Ridge Pointe. Mom had wanted that for her, too, when she was alive, so Emma had moved out. It made her feel a little funny, though, thinking about Marissa taking over her old room.

  “Marissa lives with her mother,” Emma had said, starting to feel anxious.

  “Well, yeah, but sometimes she could be with us. Right?” Harley had looked at Emma for assurance.

  “I’m welcome back anytime,” Emma had pointed out.

  “Absolutely. I was just saying sometimes Marissa could live with us. It would be cool.”

  “She’s your BFF.”

  “Hell, yeah. And no swearing. I know.”

  Emma hadn’t been about to chastise her, but it was the rule that they were all supposed to follow. It was good that Harley knew that, but it didn’t stop her much.

  “What are you making for dinner?” Emma asked Jamie now, as they all trooped into the house through the back door.

  “Lasagna,” said Harley as she raced up the stairs to the second floor. Duchess didn’t hesitate, just chased after her as she did whenever they were at Jamie and Harley’s.

  “Close. Rigatoni,” Jamie said to Emma as they heard Harley’s bedroom door shut behind her and Duchess. She glanced at the kitchen clock. “Cooper should be here in about an hour.”

  Whenever Jamie picked up Emma from work they all had dinner all together.

  “I don’t have to have pasta,” said Emma. “I like sushi, too, now.”

  “And tuna sandwiches. I know. But I was in the mood to make some. Tell me what’s been going on at Ridge Pointe while I get things ready.”

  Emma sat down at the table and clasped her hands on the tabletop. Sometimes she helped Jamie cook, but she had to be asked. Sometimes she made some mistakes while cooking. “Jewell says Rayne’s a hot pants,” she informed Jamie.

  Her sister gave her a quick look. “Older Jewell with the white hair?”

  “It’s Old Darla. Not older Jewell. Jewell’s hair is gray.”

  “Who’s Rayne?”

  “That girl that worked in the kitchen for a while. She had a boyfriend with long hair that she was kissing under the portico. Mrs. Throckmorton saw her. She said it was her grandson. . . .” Emma frowned. Her head hurt a little as she bore down on her thoughts. Very hard to put things together sometimes. “Jewell said Rayne had lots of boyfriends and that Mrs. Throckmorton’s a gossip.”

  “Sounds like Jewell might be the gossip.”

  Emma looked at her sister in wonder. “That’s what I said!”

  “So, it’s news that one of the younger people who works there has or had several boyfriends?” Jamie asked dryly.

  “She doesn’t work at Ridge Pointe anymore. Jewell said she has tattoos.”

  “A lot of people have tattoos. Harley wants a tattoo.”

  Emma heard something in her voice. “You
don’t want her to have one?”

  Jamie ripped open a box of rigatoni with a little more force than necessary. “I don’t mind tattoos. I just remember when Harley was a baby and her beautiful, soft skin. I can’t get that image out of my head. This unblemished skin, just so . . . perfect.” She shrugged. “I told her when she’s eighteen, to have at it. She’ll be an adult and can make her own choices. I don’t really care, I just . . .” She shook her head and poured water into a pot, then put the pot on the range top. “It’s just confusing. I don’t know. Parenting’s different and it doesn’t really end at eighteen, either. I mean, they might be adults, but there’re still a lot of years ahead, and I still want some influence, too, you know? I’ve never been a helicopter parent. Harley would never allow that, even when she was little. But I hate to be completely irrelevant and that’s where it feels like I’m heading.”

  She looked at Emma and Emma felt a certain pressure to answer her, but Jamie held up her hand. “Don’t look so worried. I’m just working through stuff. Other parents with teenagers are struggling with these issues, too.”

  “It’s confusing.”

  “Yes. Confusing. Uncertain. I wish I had more answers than questions. All of the above. Parents of my students sometimes ask me for advice, and they want answers and it feels like all I can give them are platitudes that they’ve heard before.”

  “You don’t have to give them your life story,” said Emma.

  Jamie stopped short, then laughed. “No. You’re right. I don’t.”

  “You said those words,” reminded Emma.

  “I know.”

  Emma shrank back when her sister headed her way. She could tell Jamie intended to hug her and she didn’t like to be hugged. But her sister just came over and held up her palm for a high five. “Thanks for listening to me,” said Jamie as Emma slapped her hand.

  * * *

  Bibi Engstrom drove home carefully from the bar, on the lookout for cop cars tucked into hidey-holes alongside the road. She’d had more to drink at the River Glen Grill than she’d intended. It was a Monday night. She’d sat at the bar during Happy Hour and forced herself not to have more than two drinks . . . which had turned into three, maybe four, when that guy had started flirting with her. He’d bought her a drink, maybe two. It was a little hazy.

  She should’ve taken Uber or Lyft, but she only lived a few miles from the restaurant. She hadn’t even meant to stop. She’d just . . . been tired. Her asshole of a husband, Hank, had packed up and moved in with his bitch of a girlfriend. He’d left . . . really left . . . and he wasn’t planning on paying the rent next month and she had nowhere to go and there was hardly any savings and she was going to be broke.

  Tears filled her eyes. She didn’t want Hank anymore but she didn’t want him to want someone else, either. And the rent . . . and utilities . . . what was she going to do?

  Rayne owes you money....

  She exhaled as she turned onto her street. Like she was going to get that back anytime soon. She’d loaned the money, knowing full well it was probably a gift where Rayne was concerned. It hadn’t been a lot of money anyway, but now she needed it.

  She pulled into the driveway and parked in front of the garage. The garage was full of Hank’s stuff.

  As she climbed out of the car she heard a knocking under the hood. The car was probably going to conk out on her. And she didn’t have any way to fix it when it did. She didn’t have a job. She’d once thought about being a hairdresser, but never gone through the training. She’d worked as a waitress for a New York minute, but then she’d married Hank and she’d quit. That was four years ago now. A lifetime . . .

  Swiping at her tears, she aimed for the front door, stumbling a little. A car drove by slowly and she looked around, a shiver sliding down her spine. She couldn’t make it out in the dark because . . . well . . . she was a little buzzed, but it felt . . . bad, like someone was watching her.

  The keys fell out of her hand as she tried to thread one in the lock. She bent down to pick them up and nearly toppled over. Her head was whirling. She grabbed on to one of the porch posts, wishing she’d left a light on for herself.

  You did, didn’t you?

  She blinked in the dark. Yes. She’d definitely left the light on, but it wasn’t on now.

  Had Hank come back?

  Or was it something else?

  She finally managed to get the key in the lock and she threw her shoulder into the door as it always stuck. It gave way and she was in her living room. She switched on a table lamp and the room flooded with light . . . only to reveal that half the furniture was gone. Hank had cleared out what he felt was his. And he’d turned out the light.

  Well, shit.

  Now that the split was really upon her, Bibi was sad, really, really sad. She’d liked being married. Liked to say that she was married. Liked having just one man.

  She worked her way to the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten enough at the restaurant, just some peanuts and one order of french fries. Too expensive. Now she dug through the refrigerator and pulled out some celery that was an anemic white-green. She ate without tasting, wondering if there was a bottle of wine left in the garage mini fridge. Unlikely. Hank had made sure there was no extra booze around weeks ago.

  She decided to look anyway and walked carefully toward the door to the garage. Her equilibrium wasn’t so hot. Turning the handle, she yanked the door open and flipped the switch.

  She stared in open-mouthed horror at the cleaned out, empty space.

  “Hank!” she cried aloud.

  He’d come in and emptied the place! She’d nagged him throughout their marriage to clean up his shit, and he’d done it in one day, the few hours she was at the bar.

  “Asshole!” she shouted, then burst into tears, sank to the step that led from the kitchen into the garage, and bawled her eyes out.

  She was too distraught to look out a window and see the vehicle that had turned around at the end of her street and was driving slowly, slowly past again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Following Seth and Patti was all well and good, but it wasn’t moving Mackenzie forward in any measurable way. Nothing was happening. After about a week of keeping them in her sights, while they went to their respective jobs at Good Livin’, she grew bored and played games on her phone to idly pass the time as she sat in her SUV. Calling in to Taft with updates had begun to feel almost silly as there was no change. When he said to stop by his place and he would pay her for her hours, she was oddly torn. Yes, she could use the funds, but had she really done anything to deserve them? She’d definitely put in the hours, but apart from Seth taking several trips to Best Homes—was he planning a job switch, or was this something else?—there was nothing to report. When she wasn’t watching Seth and Patti, she’d tried to connect again with Sharon Sealy and her daughter, Elise, hoping for an interview. Both women were singularly disinterested. It felt as if they were deliberately putting her off, but maybe that was just her own frustration at making little to no progress.

  Still, Bibi wasn’t paying for her to follow up on Rayne, whereas Taft was for keeping tabs on Seth and Patti, so there was no question about where her allegiance should lie. If she really wanted information from Sharon or Elise, she was going to have to just show up on their doorstep one day and stick her foot in the door.

  It was Friday afternoon and she was waiting in her car, her angle of sight allowing her a clear view of Seth’s truck, currently in the parking lot outside the Best Homes two-story office building with BEST HOMES in enormous, painted red letters reaching diagonally up the short end of the concrete building. A blue ribbon was painted at the end, with a white #1 in the ribbon’s center. A wide, painted red strip ran up the front concrete steps, a “red carpet” leading into the building’s foyer. Whether they truly were the best home builder in the area was debatable, but they certainly felt that way.

  Seth had entered about fifteen minutes earlier. This departure for him was the third this week,
a new addition to his daily routine. The first time he’d made the trip to Best Homes Mac had sat up straight with interest. Something, anything, to break the routine was certainly worth taking note of.

  Patti was still at Good Livin’ but since she and Seth carpooled and the workday wasn’t over, it was a safe bet she would wait for him to return, as he had both other times. Was this something to do with his “side business”? Mackenzie had texted Taft with the information and all he’d done was text back: Good. Stay on them.

  She’d briefly thought about following Seth inside and making up some excuse to be there, see what he was like at work, his clients, who he talked to. But . . . she needed to talk to Taft before she went off script, and she hadn’t forgotten what Bibi had said about Seth having guns. She was supposed to see Taft tonight at his place, as he didn’t have an outside office. She was both anticipating and dreading that meeting.

  She sank down in the seat and leaned her head back, momentarily closing her eyes. Forcing herself awake again, she scrolled through her phone to Facebook and looked again at as much of Rayne’s account as she could. Same pictures. She then went to Instagram. Same pictures. She tried a couple of other platforms, but nothing had changed. It was always Rayne and a bunch of friends, drinking, partying, and generally hanging out.

  I could fall asleep, she thought. Her lids were heavy as bricks. It was warm in the car. March had come in like a lion, but appeared to be leaving like a lamb. The sky was a grayish blue, visible between scudding white clouds. It was a really nice spring day.

  She tried to shake herself out of it by reminding herself how it bugged her that Sharon Sealy and Elise had put her off. She’d phoned Sharon and asked to speak to her about Rayne, and Sharon had snapped back that Rayne was always taking off and not to worry about it. Rayne’s sister, Elise, had echoed the sentiment when Mac had finally gotten through to her. Neither Rayne’s mother nor sister wanted to talk to Mac and had basically hung up on her. Their rudeness had kind of pissed Mackenzie off, even while she wondered why she cared to keep on investigating. Bibi had thrown Rayne’s disappearance at Mac because she’d thought Mac was still with the police. Mac didn’t owe her anything, yet she felt indebted somehow. She should just give it all up.