“I’ve got to go,” she said.
“Where to? I’ll walk with you.”
She stopped and turned around. “Why don’t you go find your wife and leave me alone?” Tears brimmed in her eyes and she hated herself for it. “You’ve done enough damage.”
“On the contrary, I set you free. You were wasting away up there in your tower, coming down only to pick up mail. And now? Now you’re a feisty woman on the way to healing. I’d say I did you some good.”
Her breathing had become leaden and she willed herself to stay upright. He took a step toward her and she recoiled. “You are such a creep.” As she pulled herself away from his prying gaze and moved swiftly toward home, she had to block out the unmistakable sound of him chuckling.
“That’s it!” Inside her apartment she dumped her items in the fridge and fished around for the key to her storage closet. Back outside she threw a wave to her across-the-breezeway neighbor Brandon, charged downstairs, unlocked the door to the closet and pulled out her bike. She had not ridden the thing since the desert, but at this moment all she wanted to do was feel the sea breeze coursing through what hair she had left, to inhale the saltiness of the air.
Only she would be responsible for her recovery. Not Zack … not anyone.
The route alongside the soft-sand beach was dotted with side-by-side beach shacks and mansions, kind of like life. They all just had to get along or be bulldozed. She rode past a home at one end of the beach that rose into the sky like the Queen Mary, and at the other end, she coasted past a tiny cottage surrounded by walls embedded with oddities. Down at the turnaround a dive bar held court next to a realtor’s office. Fishermen caught their supper, tossing guts to passing seagulls. By the time she returned home, Liddy’s cheeks stung from the relentless force of salt and sand and raw air.
Too tired to take her bike to the storage closet, she locked it to the staircase outside of her condo, and inched her way up to her front door. Her extremities—toes, hands—creaked from a chill, as if the day’s wind had lodged itself into her bones. She sank into the sofa and pulled a blanket around her, not recalling a time when she had ever felt this cold. Or this tired. The heavy cloak of fatigue weighed on her so that her fingers cramped, making it so very difficult to grasp the ends of the blanket that she had buried herself in. She hated to admit it, but finding a way to feed herself tonight might just take a miracle.
Her cell phone rang and she groaned. If she didn’t answer, though, Meg or her mother, or whoever it was on the other end, would probably call the police. Hmm … if she weren’t so exhausted and so done with men in her life, she might have let her mind fantasize a moment about a strapping police officer breaking down her door …
The phone rang again. She let out another groan. “Hello?”
“Is that you, Liddy? This is Beau.”
Her mind swirled, but her heart sank. “Yes. Hi, Beau.”
“Are you feeling okay?”
Well, let’s see. She’d had brain surgery just weeks ago, carried on with a married man, and then tried to shake it all off by riding her bike for over an hour. And now she could barely move. But instead of all that, she answered, “Yes, fine.”
“You sound … tired.”
“I am ridiculously fatigued at the moment.”
“Are you alone? Would you like some help?”
“It’s not like that.” She kept her eyes closed. “I’ve just had a tough week, that’s all.”
“But your prognosis is good, right?”
She allowed herself a deep breath before continuing. Oh, she was tired. “Yes, yes. The doctor says they got it all. As he suspected—the tumor was benign.” Something leaped inside her heart at repeating this news. If she’d had any strength left, she would have used it to smile.
“Beautiful.” He said the word with a slight accent, like he was from some far off region of the United States, the sound of his voice moving from anxious to warm and low. For the first time, she wondered if he was from around here.
“I noticed you last night at church, but didn’t have a chance to say hello,” he said.
Maybe your new girlfriend had something to do with that? Meow.
“I was glad to see you,” he continued. “You looked well.”
“Thanks.”
A beat of silence passed between them. Beau was the first to interrupt it. “Well, I’d better be going. Glad to hear that you’re on the mend, Liddy. I’ll see you soon, all right?”
“Sure,” she whispered, and dropped her phone to the floor.
* * *
Beau met Taylor for dinner at their favorite burrito stand in midtown. Nothing like beans coated in lard to heal the hurts of the day. Taylor took the steps in one long leap all the while carrying on a conversation through earbuds.
“Yes, honey, I got it. A quesadilla for Tiffany and taco salad for you—hold the sour cream. Sure you don’t want chips and guac?” Taylor listened to his wife while making faces at Beau. When Taylor grabbed the cords of his headphones and wrapped them around his own neck like a noose, Beau grinned. “Okay, hon. Gotta go. Beau says hi by the way.”
“In a hurry?” Beau asked after his friend had yanked the earbuds out of his ears and buried them in his back pocket.
“Nah. Ginny’s got Tiff in a ballet class, so I’ll order their food on my way out. I’m starved—let’s eat.”
They ordered two stuffed burritos, the tortillas stretched thinly around the beans and cheese, and a couple of sodas. Taylor took a huge bite. “It’s better that Ginny doesn’t come with me here. Turns up her nose at the size of these babies anyway.”
Beau couldn’t muster much of a response.
“You’re quiet.”
He shrugged. “Yeah.”
Taylor waited a beat. “Bad day?”
“Not really.” He shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Schedule’s out. Want me to pick up tickets so you can watch the Rockies get a pounding from the Dodgers?”
Now Beau smiled. “We both know the Dodgers are getting spanked this year.”
“You wish.” He took another bite and spoke with his mouth full. “Wager?”
“Sure. Winner buys the burritos next time.”
Taylor let loose a high-pitched giggle. Always sounded a little weird, but oddly fitting coming from his gentle giant of a friend.
“So,” Taylor started, “what’s going on with you in the female department?”
Beau took a swig of cola. “Nothing.”
Taylor lifted one brow. “Don’t lie, bro. Everyone’s talking about you and that Wilkes girl.”
“I don’t believe you. She and I have made no commitment to each other.” Yet.
“Actually, let me retract that. Ginny heard about a couple of others who’ve sharpened their claws around you lately. And what’s going on with you and Beth? Someone heard her tell you that you guys are supposed to get married?”
Beau snorted. “That was a joke. Honestly, lately it feels as if I’m the punchline of a slew of them.”
Taylor frowned. “How so?”
“Do you know Liddy Buckle?”
“The woman with the tumor. Yeah, I heard you’d been seen talking to her.”
“See? That’s what I mean. Who’s been saying this stuff?”
“C’mon, people just worry about you. Forget about it. What’s up with Liddy?”
“I called her last night, you know, to check on her.”
“Uh-huh.”
Beau sighed and ran a hand over the stubble forming on his face. “She said she was fine, but she didn’t sound like it. She sounded sick to me, frankly.”
“Because you’re a doctor.”
Beau snapped him a hard look. “Because I know what sick sounds like.”
Taylor plunked the rest of his burrito onto the table. “Okay, I get it. And you’re worried about her or something?”
“Let me ask you … has God ever spoken to you?”
“You mean like the time he told
me to suck it up and hold my wife’s hair when she barfed during labor?”
“That was a nurse talking.”
Taylor shook his head vehemently. “Whatever it was, it sure put the fear of God into me.” He paused. “I take it you’re talking about something else.”
Beau puffed out his cheeks and blew out a long, slow breath. “Remember that night Liddy told the congregation about her surgery? That night I was running late, and the usher seated me right next to her in the front row.”
“Well, you were late …”
He shook his head tightly. “I don’t know, Tay. I remember walking toward her, and sensing—well, more than sensing—that ….”
“That what?”
Beau looked his friend in the eyes. “That she was my future.”
“Why? Because God told you that?”
“Can you think of anyone else who would put us together?”
Taylor sat back, his face grim. “No one.”
“I had planned to ask her out that night and thought that for once, my late arrival had worked in my favor.”
“But then she made her announcement.”
“Could’ve knocked me over with a feather, to borrow a cliché. Ever since then I’ve been questioning myself.” He wagged his head. “Maybe the upheaval of the past year has messed with my mind.”
“If that’s the case, why do you keep thinking about her? And why did you call her last night?”
“What do you mean? I told you. I wanted to see how she was doing after the surgery.”
“Bull.”
Beau’s laugh sounded incredulous. “You think I have some ulterior motive? What’s wrong with you?”
Taylor grinned at his friend before taking another bite. “You’re an idiot. Of course you did.”
Taylor, Beau had learned, had a way of cutting through the layers that he often stacked up between himself and his troubles. One night a couple of years ago, he and Anne had invited Tay and Ginny to dinner to celebrate. He remembered well the smile on his wife’s face as she sat across the dining table from Ginny and relayed good news about her prognosis. She glowed. Thinking back on that moment wrenched Beau’s heart in his chest until he thought he might bleed.
Later that same evening, as the girls went into the kitchen to talk and dish up dessert, Taylor collared him. “You’re scared out of your mind, my friend. I can tell.”
His mouth had dropped open at Taylor’s pronouncement. Had he been that transparent?
Tay had been a steady hand in his life, both then and now. He recalled the way he pulled him aside as they prepared to leave that night. “I’ve got your back. Just wanted you to know.”
Now as Taylor finished off his burrito, Beau ruminated on his friend’s accusation about him having some kind of ulterior motive. He really did want to know how she had been faring …
Taylor pitched his wrapper into the waste can and slapped the red-painted table. “Now put us both out of our misery and ask that girl out.”
Beau wadded up his own wrapper and pitched it into the trash, too, knocking Taylor’s onto the floor. He grinned. “Maybe I will.”
* * *
Meg would not allow Liddy to forget her recklessness of that day. At least she had the decency to take her to task over cupcakes and iced coffees at a beachside café with floor-to-ceiling chalkboard menus, drifts of salty air, and plenty of sunny outside seating.
“I could kill you for what you did—you could have died!”
Liddy shrugged. “Might have defeated the purpose, don’t you think?”
Meg’s voice softened. “You’ve always had an independent spirit; I’ve loved that about you. But following after some loser drifter and then drowning your sorrows in some relentless show of strength?” She shook her head. “It’s not like you. You’re too smart for that.”
Tears pricked Liddy’s eyes and nose. Meg was right, of course. She’d spent most of the last week in bed, ignoring the phone as much as possible. That seemingly simple bike ride about did her in, so much that she had frightened herself. If it hadn’t been for sweet Tessy from the church popping in with a lasagna “just in case,” she might not have had anything other than chips and salsa for meals. As it happened, she ate squares of that lasagna all week long—often cold. And she still lost weight.
“It’s behind me now.”
Meg peeked at her from beneath the brim of her hat. “Consider yourself dutifully warned that it had better be.”
“Yes, ma’am. New subject. Tell me about what’s going on at the hotel. Will you be in town for a while?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. The hotel’s been very busy lately. Occupancy is way up, as are site visits. You do know there’s a Male Heartthrob Impersonators Convention coming in next week.”
“You didn’t?”
Meg wrinkled her nose and bit her tongue. “Booked the whole thing. Now somebody has to stick around and manage all those …”
“Heartthrobs?”
Meg laughed. “Don’t knock it. They paid big for the entire ballroom.”
“Guess this is a good time to tell you that I’ve decided to go back to work next week.” Liddy laughed. “Just in time.”
Meg tilted her head. “Isn’t it a little early for that? It’s one thing to take care of the daily basics, but working? You have to be ‘on’ all the time … I don’t know.”
Liddy sighed. “I know what you mean, but I think I need to. For one thing, I’m a little bored and I don’t have the funds to really do anything fun. Disability just doesn’t cover much more than the rent so my savings are, like, what savings?”
Meg cringed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”
Liddy shrugged. “No big. Anyway, I’m glad you’ll be around next week. And all those handsome pseudo-celebrities … sounds like some wicked fun.”
“Yeah, well, you’ll have your hands busy directing all those fan girls to the ballroom.”
Liddy laughed and held up her iced coffee for a toast. “Well, then, to fan girls for keeping us both employed!”
Meg clinked her glass against Liddy’s. “Here, here.”
Chapter 11
“You look positively dead on your feet,” Trace said, peering at Liddy through her latest thrift store find: a pair of Warby Parker glasses. They weren’t her exact prescription, but “close enough”!
“Gee, thanks, friend.”
“I’m serious, Lid. You’ve worked three full days in a row after being gone for how long? Shoot, I’m exhausted after coming back from vacation. Can’t imagine having gone through”—she gestured toward Liddy’s head—“you know.”
“Brain surgery?”
Trace grimaced. “Yeah, that. Seriously, go take a break.”
Hans showed up at the desk just then, key in hand. “Here,” he said. “I’m leaving this room unoccupied for you for the next week, well, unless we get one-hundred-percent occupancy, and when does that happen?”
Liddy frowned. “I don’t understand.”
Hans handed the key to Trace. “Gotta run. You explain.”
Trace let out a succinct sigh. “It’s for you to take catnaps, whenever you need them.” She pushed the key into Liddy’s hand. “C’mon, don’t be too proud to take it. If you won’t go home, then take a nap. Now.”
Reluctantly, Liddy acknowledged her need for a break and took the key. “Thanks. I’ll set the alarm and be back in a bit.”
She stood inside the neat-as-a-pin guest room at the end of the west hall. What the room lacked in updated decor, it made up for with a crispness that earned them high praise on Yelp. That and the forever sea views. Hans had chosen a room for her far away from ice machines and elevators and stairs. She let out a sigh. He was a good guy, and she sure hoped he wasn’t somehow connected to the mystery involving the chef.
As she lowered herself to the end of the bed, a dark shroud descended on her. Her eyes drooped on their own volition, but she fought to keep them open. Had she known that she was this tired? She glanced int
o the mirror on the wall across from her and removed her hat, laying it on the bed next to her. The blonde curls that framed one side of her face contrasted sharply with the soft, nearly-black hair that had filled in her other side. From where she sat, she could see the deep-set circles that had formed under her eyes.
Trace—and Hans—were right. She needed sleep. And so she crawled beneath the crisp, bleached white sheets, and fell into slumber.
Sometime later, she awoke to the muscle-jarring ring of the phone next to her bed. She had not owned a house phone in year—hardly anyone she knew did anymore—so the impact of the screeching in-room menace rankled her nerves. She groaned and picked up the receiver.
“Oh, thank God!”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you were dead or something!” Trace hollered into the line.
Liddy furrowed her brow and squinted at the clock, its bright red symbols glowing in the darkened room: 6:30. “Wait, what?” Through the gauzy sheers, she could see that night had fallen. “Oh, I overslept.”
“I’m just glad you’re not dead!”
Liddy sat up. “Sorry to have scared you. Must’ve set the alarm for a.m. or something. I’ll be down in a second.” She glanced around for her hat.
“No worries. Actually, your shift is over, so go on home. Do you need a ride?”
Relief flooded her. “No, I’m good. Thanks, Trace. This helped.”
Even though she was checked into this room for the next week, she made the bed and fluffed the pillows. No sense in housekeeping staff thinking she was a slob. She shut the door behind her and made her way down the hall toward the parking lot, her clothing rumpled from the last few hours of slumber. Hopefully those who passed her by didn’t think she was taking a walk of shame.
Outside, she shivered in the chill of the night. She slid into her Jeep and drove out of the lot, passing by the back of the restaurant on her short jaunt home. A familiar figure had slipped in through the double back doors of the hotel restaurant. Hans. He was still on-site, and his shift had long ended.
With a groan, Liddy hurried home, anxious for dinner and more hours of sleep.
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