by R. L. Syme
Aidan covertly watched Claire take it apart. She first swiped a bit of the frosting and rolled it around on her tongue with her eyes closed. Then, she took the tiniest bite of the topper and replaced it. She forked a corner of the cake.
Everything seemed up to her standards so far.
Then she cut a piece with every element and slowly lifted the fork to her mouth. Aidan could almost feel himself open his own mouth in anticipation.
Her smile said it all—wide and nodding.
Aidan cut into the cake himself, sure to get a piece of every element as Claire had. The bite was spiced at first, too complex for him to pick out all the flavors, but then there was a chocolatey, caramely rush, followed by heat in the back of his throat. The lingering combination of the salty caramel, the hot spices and the sweet cake was really an experience.
He allowed himself a throaty grunt of appreciation. “That’s the one.”
When he opened his eyes, Claire was staring at him. The sheer bliss she’d been experiencing when he began his bite had been replaced by anxiety.
Aidan wasn’t sure what to say to Claire to get that look off her face, but all the words on the tip of his tongue disappeared when Meg began to prattle.
“Oh, Aidan, I’m so glad. I had been hoping she would pick this one. I think it’s a great homage to your father and the governor’s husband, both being firemen at one time. With the heat, I hoped it would be her favorite.”
With each word out of Meg’s mouth, Claire’s face took a little detour from anxious to sad. He hated that pout. Her sister had had the same one.
“She did seem to gravitate toward that one when I spoke to her,” Meg continued. “I was so hoping she would be pleased with it, but if you like it, I’m sure she’ll like it.”
Meg took the plates and handed them to Anna, then shooed the girl from the room.
Aidan’s pocket went crazy again. This time, Will was calling.
“Look, all I know is, that’s the one she specifically wanted me to try. I have instructions that, as long as that one tasted good, I’m supposed to confirm the order she put in for the mini cakes with the display. I have it written down somewhere.” He fumbled in his pockets for the notes he’d taken, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Claire’s face.
He attempted a peace offering. “What about you, Claire? Which one did you like?”
“I’m going to have to think about it,” she said.
But Aidan wasn’t buying it. That was the cake she’d loved. Although why it mattered that Marin was ordering it for a wedding more than two months away was beyond him.
Claire’s eyes glazed over, and Meg swiped the notes from Aidan’s hand. He tried to reach for Claire’s arm, but she jumped to her feet and pulled her purse onto her shoulder, sliding away from him.
“I’ll call you, Meg. Thanks for the tasting.” Her voice shook slightly on the last word.
Aidan’s phone buzzed at him again, but he ignored it.
“Thanks, Meg,” he said, edging for the door and keeping one eye on Claire running through the kitchen. “My sister will be in touch.”
Meg called after him, but Aidan ignored her. “Claire!” he called out. “Wait.” He jogged after her just as his phone began to vibrate.
“Claire!” he called again. Just at the edge of the kitchen, she finally stopped. He caught her by the arm. “Just wait a second, will you? I need to talk to you.”
She crossed her arms and wouldn’t look at him.
“Just let me get rid of Will. Hang on.” He opened his phone. “Will, I said I’ll be there when I get there. Will you stop calling me?”
“Dammit, Aidan, I’ve been calling for half an hour. What the hell?”
“I’m in a meeting. I’ll be right down there.”
“Stop,” Will hissed. “Don’t come here. Look.” His voice lowered and Aidan glanced up to make sure Claire hadn’t moved.
“Hurry it up, Will. I’ve got to go.”
“Collins is up in the cold cases, Aidan.”
Aidan’s veins iced and throbbed. He couldn’t breathe. He knew what that meant before Will even said the words.
“He’s re-opening Jane’s case.”
Aidan dropped the phone.
Shit.
***
Claire picked up his phone. Someone was still on the other end. “Hang on,” she said. “He dropped his phone.”
“I don’t blame him,” the voice said. She didn’t expect to recognize anyone in Somewhere anymore.
Aidan’s dark eyes were wide, and his hand froze in midair. She put the phone into the hand, but it slid out again.
“Jeez, Aidan. Hold on to your phone.” She bent down again to get it, but this time, the call had been lost.
She slapped it into his hand and at the contact of their skin, he shook his head and looked up, finally landing his gaze on her.
“Claire.” He looked at the phone and stuffed it in his pocket. “I need to talk to you.”
“We have nothing to talk about.” She pulled at the straps of her purse. “I need to go.”
“Where are you going?” His dazed, wide eyes seemed to finally focus on her.
Claire fumbled with her words. She hadn’t been going anywhere except far away from Aidan Conley. As quickly as her legs could carry her.
But she also knew Aidan too well to think she could get away from him if he really wanted to follow her. She shrugged.
“I guess I’m not really going anywhere. I just need to get out of here.”
He put his hand on the small of her back and everything inside her shivered. She swallowed, trying not to let him see his effect on her, still, after ten years.
“Let’s get out of here together, then.” He guided her toward the door of the kitchen and stopped as they came into the dining area.
He was suddenly stiff, wooden, and his hand disappeared from her back. She looked around to find all eyes on them.
And of course they were. Aidan Conley and his dead wife’s sister. Who wouldn’t want to gossip about that? Half of them still probably thought Aidan was responsible for Jane’s death, so a juicy sight like this would set them off for months.
It would be Christmas and some old blue-hair would still be talking about the time they saw that Milton girl with her sister’s killer at Meg’s Bakery.
Neither of them spoke as they wound their way through the tables of gawking oldsters. Once they finally stood outside in the now-sweltering July heat, they both seemed to breathe again.
“Look, whatever I did in there to piss you off, I’m sorry.” Aidan pinned her with an intense stare. “I was just so surprised to see you. And looking…”
She could practically finish his sentence; she heard it enough from her parents. Looking so much like Jane. Claire couldn’t even say it out loud in front of Aidan.
“If you want the truth, I was just hoping to get exclusive rights to that cupcake.”
“Which one?”
“The one you chose. The one Marin wanted.” She crossed her arms again, trying to squeeze the tears back. “I need something very specific for… well, it’s not important. I won’t be able to do it now, anyway.”
“Just because Marin wants the same cake at her wedding? That’s two months away.”
“You don’t understand.”
Aidan glanced up at the sky and laughed. “Your sister used to do the same…” He stopped with a tight, controlled look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring her up.”
“You don’t have to bring her up, Aidan. She’s always there.”
He tugged at the bottom of her tank top, an almost intimate gesture. But he wasn’t really looking at her, anyway. “If there’s something I can do to help you, you know I want to.”
“You’re a good guy. And I appreciate the gesture.”
“You could tell me what the problem is.”
“I don’t really want to stand in the heat anymore. Plus, I’ve got errands to run, and you should call Marin.”
&n
bsp; He touched his pocket, thoughtful and yet determined. “How about this. How about we get lunch, you can catch me up on your life, and I will handle Marin?”
Claire’s heart did a little jitterbug. Fourteen years ago, what she wouldn’t have given to sit across a booth from Aidan. But today, after everything, she wasn’t sure it was a good idea.
She tried to talk some sense into the butterflies in her stomach, but they would have none of it. She nodded, slowly, and turned toward her car.
“Meet me at the All-Nighter.” Aidan pointed toward Uptown, across the tracks.
Claire got into her car, blasting the AC. Surely, even Texas in July couldn’t make a girl this hot. Every inch of her skin burned like she’d been on the beach all day.
And her heartbeat clattered out of control.
She really hadn’t anticipated seeing Aidan while she was here. Word was, he still lived out at the old place off Sweet Mountain Road and didn’t really make an appearance anywhere there wasn’t a fire.
Tande said he even had his groceries delivered so he didn’t have to risk getting cornered in the store. Although the thought of Aidan not doing his own grocery shopping almost sent her into laughing fits. The man didn’t like having anything done for him.
Surely, he hadn’t changed that much.
Claire drove up Main Street, crossing the tracks, then passing into the familiar Uptown district. She drove past the old Copper Creek Bar, Tryon’s Grocery, Pepper’s Restaurant, and the Sheriff’s Department before finally pulling into the diagonal parking across from the All-Nighter Café.
Their old stomping ground.
Jane and Aidan and their friends had been so much older, Claire had never thought she would think of their friends as her friends, but as they’d gotten into high school, the lines had blurred a bit more. Suddenly, three years wasn’t so much.
Except for Aidan, of course. She’d always been the buck-toothed little sister of the gorgeous prom queen. And no amount of waiting for Aidan outside of his classes just so she could see him and greet him could have prepared her for what it had been like to join their group. Even if Aidan did only have eyes for Jane.
He’d treated Claire like an equal, and that had meant a lot. And the All-Nighter had been the most important of those milestones.
Walking through the old swinging glass doors brought all those memories swimming back. And seeing Aidan sitting in their old corner booth in the back almost made the whole scene reappear.
Claire kept her hands out to steady herself as she walked.
This was all too much.
Aidan had the menu open when she sat down opposite him, sliding all the way around the booth so she could sit across from him and not be within touching distance.
No sense torturing herself.
The old café looked and smelled exactly as she remembered. The booths were a bit more cracked in places, but the same red, shiny leather covered the backs and seats. The tables still wobbled, and their plasticky facades still peeled and cracked away at the corners. Even some of the waitresses were the same.
Claire recognized Amber Greenlee and Coretta Sanchez, and thought she saw Kent Tillman back in the kitchen. Coretta’s smile lit up as she approached them.
“Well, Aidan Conley. I’ll be damned.” Coretta slid into the booth beside him, her long, dark hair fanning against his arm. “I thought I saw your big red rig parked outside. How the hell have you been?”
Aidan offered a tight smile. “Good, Coretta. Thanks.” He gestured across the table, and Claire found herself pinned in the waitress’s glare. “You remember Claire Milton.”
Coretta had never liked either of the Milton girls.
Probably because she had liked Aidan, and it had been obvious to everyone who paid attention since they were in grade school that Aidan Conley was in love with Jane Milton. Jane Conley.
Every girl who had liked Aidan hated the Miltons.
Until Jane died. Then no one liked Aidan, and everyone felt sorry for Claire.
They had no idea.
“I do.” Coretta sniffed and pounded her pen on her pad. “I’m sorry, Claire. I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s nice to see you, too.”
“I didn’t say that,” Coretta mumbled, but covered it up with a smile. “What’ll you have, Aidan? A fire burger? That was always your favorite, wasn’t it?”
“Sure. That sounds good.” Aidan handed over the menu without even glancing at it.
But Claire liked having the old, foldable, plastic-covered paper menu held up in front of her face. It was a nice barricade against the town and the memories.
Coretta sighed and tapped her pen on her waitress pad. “And what can I get you, Claire?”
“Um. Do you know if the chicken is locally raised?”
Coretta rolled her eyes.
“Never mind,” Claire said hurriedly. “I’ll just have a cup of coffee and an English muffin.”
“You’re not hungry?” Aidan’s eyebrows went up. “We can go somewhere else, if you’d prefer.”
Claire closed the menu. “I’m just used to eating later, I think. Breakfast was only a few hours ago.”
“I’ll have that out to you in a jiff.” Coretta grabbed Claire’s menu and stalked down the empty aisle.
Aidan placed his hands on the table. “Really. We don’t have to stay.”
“I’m fine. It’s just strange to be back here.”
Aidan waved at the expanse of the room. “The All-Nighter. Hasn’t changed in twenty years.”
“Maybe longer than that,” Claire said.
The smile on his face had looked so forced before, but he seemed to relax, now that it was just the two of them. She liked that he let his guard down with her.
“You, on the other hand,” Aidan said. “You look so different.” He chewed on his thumb. “I almost didn’t recognize you at the bakery.”
“You haven’t seen me since I was seventeen.”
He stared at her, one feature at a time, until he got lower than her neck, and his eyes flipped back up to hers. “You definitely don’t look seventeen anymore.”
“I’m sure it’s just weird because I look so much like Jane.”
He shook his head. “Claire.”
“No, it’s ok, Aidan. That’s what this is about, isn’t it? Now that I could be Jane’s twin, you are trying to keep the past alive.” A slow burn began behind her eyes. “That’s why we came here, isn’t it? Why you needed to see me after the cake tasting? To hold on to Jane just a little longer?”
She expected the anger to begin to flare at any moment, the way it often did with her parents, but only tears formed.
“I don’t try to hold on to… and to think that I would…” He spluttered and grunted. “You don’t know me anymore, Claire. And you don’t look as much like your sister as you think.”
“Good, because I’d hate to burden you with my presence.” She snatched at her purse. “Maybe I should just leave.”
Aidan stopped her, his hand on her arm. “No, please. I didn’t ask you here so we could talk about Jane.”
“Really? Because I see your ghosts when you look at me, and I hate it.” Claire choked on the words. “I get enough of that from my parents.”
His countenance relaxed and she saw the pity begin to creep in.
“Can we just start again?” Aidan released her. “We can talk about anything you want. I just want to… just sit here and talk to me for a few minutes. Then you can run away if I repulse you so much.”
“That’s not it at all.” Claire put her purse on the seat and sat on her hands before she tried to touch him again.
“I just want to know how you are. What you’ve been up to. And why you won’t admit that you loved that cake.”
Before Claire could answer, the glass push-doors slammed open with a loud crash. A big man with a wide, over-white, toothy smile stood between the propped doors. He wore a loud, printed shirt under a Carhartt jacket with a bolo tie and a wide-brimmed
Stetson.
“Don’t be alarmed, folks,” he announced to the empty diner. The wait staff stared, and Kent Tillman popped his head out the pass-through. “We’re here on official business.”
Two uniformed deputies walked behind him, stern-faced and purposeful. On the big man’s Carhartt lapel hung a shiny, tilted star that read Sheriff like a cartoon Western. The Sheriff had his thumbs in the loops of his jeans as he sauntered toward them.
“Aidan Conley.” He gestured, and the flanksmen grabbed Aidan’s arms, pulling him out of the booth. “You’re coming with us.”
Aidan cast a glance at Claire that had years of apology in its creases. The insides of her palms slicked and her breath stuck to the back of her throat as she tried to calm the spinning behind her eyes.
“You have no right to do this,” Aidan said, struggling against the deputies—one well-muscled and dark, one baby-faced and blonde with the requisite baby fat.
Claire put her hand up and addressed the man in charge. “Just what in the hell is going on here?”
The Sheriff ignored her and grabbed Aidan’s shoulder. “Aidan Conley, you are under arrest for the murder of Jane Conley. Anything you say…”
The rest of the spiel faded into the dull murmur of shock as Claire watched them drag Aidan toward the door. He kept looking back at her with those big, sad eyes.
He had known this was coming.
Deep down inside, she had, too.
Chapter Three
Aidan wrestled with the discomfort of the handcuffs. His shoulder was starting to act up again, and having his hands behind his back wasn’t helping.
“Jeff,” he said. The big deputy swiveled his desk chair and shook his head ruefully.
“You know I can’t take the cuffs off, Aid.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“It’s not that.” Jeff Young shrugged and went back to his paperwork. “It’s procedure. You’re here on murder charges, y’know.”
“That’s bullshit.” Aidan pulled at the chain that held his feet together and to the ground. “You know I didn’t kill Jane.”