In 27 Days

by Alison Gervais

  Archer stared at Rosie in astonishment for a moment, and then released a heavy breath, dropping his pencil. “Go get your jacket, Rosalia.”

  Rosie let out an excited squeal and leapt off the chair, making a mad dash for the stairs.

  “Is she normally like this?” I asked curiously.

  “When sugar is involved? Usually.” Archer stood and made for the living room, grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch and slipping into it. “But this is an excuse to take a break from crunching numbers, so I’m not complaining.”

  “So, uh . . . how’s business?” I said, nodding toward the mess on the table.

  Archer shrugged, not meeting my gaze. “Business is as good as it can be.”

  I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean, but I decided not to pester him on the subject.

  Rosie came skipping back down the stairs a moment later, bundled up in her jacket, hat, and scarf. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Archer and I followed Rosie down the stairs to the back door of the coffeehouse, said a quick good-bye to Regina and Victoria, and then we stepped out into the November chill. We made our way through the alley and out onto the sidewalk, heading off down the block.

  “There’s a bakery a few blocks over,” Archer said as we walked. “We can see if they have brownies. Not that Rosie needs the sugar or anything.”

  I grinned in spite of how miserable I still felt from the words I’d shared with my parents earlier that morning, but said nothing. There was too much going on in my head to keep up a conversation.

  We had been walking in silence for a few minutes before Archer spoke again. “So.”

  I glanced up at him with raised eyebrows. “So.”

  “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

  He was watching me with a guarded expression, his eyes narrowed. While I couldn’t rightly say there was concern in his eyes, he did look interested.

  “I’m not . . . Nothing is bothering me,” I said uneasily. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re a dreadful liar,” he said flatly. “And I’m not an idiot. Something is eating at you.”

  “Well, I guess . . . it’s just . . .” I let out a small moan, resigning myself to defeat. “It’s my parents.”

  “Your parents.” Archer nodded. “Okay. What about your parents?”

  “They . . . went on a business trip,” I began carefully. “To Miami. And it wouldn’t be the first time they’ve run off for weeks at a time, so it’s not a big deal. I’m used to it. But today I kind of lost it, and yelled at them for being crappy parents because my mother pitched this fit about me having a job, making all these presumptions that I have this perfect life with all this money, that I don’t have to lift a finger. And she doesn’t know me. Neither of them do.”

  My throat felt tight when I finished speaking.

  “Good.”

  I stared up at Archer in confusion. “What?”

  “Good,” he repeated. “I’m glad you told them they were crappy parents. That’s nothing on you, you know. You’ve got people in your life that care about you. Sometimes parents just don’t show it as much as they should.”

  This was true. Taylor, Brie, and Chelsea cared about me. I’d even go as far to say that Regina cared about me too.

  I was touched by what Archer said. He was a bit brisk about it, but the intent was still there. “Are you trying to make me feel better, Archer Morales?” I asked slyly.

  Archer opened his mouth to respond, but was cut off by Rosie’s loud shout of, “Will you please hurry up? I really want brownies!”

  After making a quick stop at the bakery Archer mentioned, and getting Rosie only one brownie instead of the seven she demanded, we were now walking down one of the many paths in Central Park. I figured it would be a good idea to let Rosie blow off some steam before we circled back to Mama Rosa’s. Regina and Victoria would probably be glad if Rosie was tired enough to go down for a nap when we returned.

  “I have an idea,” I said to Archer as we strolled along.

  “Well, there’s a novelty.”

  “Don’t be rude.”

  “Fine, fine.” He looked down at me in question as he hooked a finger into the back of Rosie’s coat to keep her from getting too far ahead of us. “What’s your idea?”

  “I want to take us somewhere.”

  Archer looked as if he didn’t like the sound of that. “Where? Not to get more junk food, is it?”

  “No,” I assured him. “Just follow me.”

  He followed suit as I turned back down the path, heading off in a different direction, and when I glanced back I saw he was steering Rosie with his hands on her shoulders. It took a few minutes to get to my intended destination, and we were almost there when Archer figured out where I wanted to go.

  “Oh, no. No. We are not—”

  “The zoo!” Rosie squealed loudly.

  “The zoo?” Archer hissed at me. “Why do you want to go to the zoo?”

  “The zoo is fun!” I protested. “Central Park Zoo is classic! Look how excited Rosie is!”

  “She gets that excited about macaroni and cheese for dinner.”

  “Fine. We’re doing this for me, then,” I said, ushering the two of them toward the entrance. “The zoo reminds me of happier times with my family. Unless you’d rather go back to accounting?”

  That seemed to change his mind pretty quickly. I bought three tickets, and Archer and I ended up chasing after Rosie as she dashed through the front gates ahead of us.

  “Where do we go first?” she asked us excitedly when we finally caught up to her.

  “You pick,” I told her. “Archer and I will follow you.”

  Rosie looked as if Christmas had come early, and immediately said, “Penguins!”

  Archer groaned. “Penguins? Really, Rosie? Penguins are loud, and they smell like—”

  “Penguins it is,” I said loudly over Archer, shooting him a disapproving look. “Let’s go, then.”

  Rosie squealed happily and grabbed at my hand, then Archer’s, and started pulling us along. The penguin house was empty when we finally reached it, save for an exhausted-looking mother with three little boys. Rosie immediately raced up to the glass that separated the penguin exhibit from the concrete bleachers where visitors sat, pointing to each of the penguins in turn.

  Archer and I took a seat on the first row of bleachers, watching as Rosie babbled away in excitement, and Archer slumped into his seat with an exaggerated sigh.

  “Lighten up, won’t you?” I said, nudging him with my elbow. “So you don’t like penguins, big deal. That should make it a little more worth your while, though.”

  Archer’s eyes fixed on Rosie as I pointed to her; she hadn’t stopped giggling from the moment we walked into the penguin house. It made me smile. And though I knew Archer was doing his best to hide it, he was smiling too.

  Rosie rushed up to me then, clutching at my knees, all smiles. “Aren’t penguins cool?” she gushed. “Look at how they waddle around like that! They’re my favorite animal!”

  “Mine too,” I said, grinning. “And you know what they say about penguins, right? It’s kind of cool too.”

  A confused look crossed Rosie’s face. “No, what?”

  “Yeah, Hadley,” Archer said, smirking at me. “What do they say about penguins?”

  “Well, some penguins spend ages searching for the perfect pebble on the beach that they want to give to the penguin that they really like. Sort of like a proposal, when two people are in love and they want to get married, and the guy gives the girl a ring? So the girl penguin keeps it, and then they spend the rest of their lives together. Just the two of them.”

  I’d always loved that fact. Penguins were one of the few animals in the world that practiced monogamy. In this day and age, I knew there were more than a few people who could learn from penguins when it came to relationships.

  “Oh.” Rosie looked excited. “I like pebbles. I hope I find my penguin one day.”
/>   So do I, I silently agreed.

  “Tell me, Hadley,” Archer said as we left the penguin house, on our way to the reptiles. “Have you found your penguin yet?”

  His tone was teasing, and I felt my face flood with color at his jab, now embarrassed that I’d even brought up that story.

  “No. I’m only sixteen,” I said, refusing to meet his eye. “I’ve got plenty of time.”

  “All the time in the world,” Archer agreed.

  “What about you?” I asked. “Have you found your penguin?”

  “No.” His answer was firm. “I’m not sure I have one.”

  I refused to believe that. Everyone had their own penguin, including Archer. If he managed to open his eyes just a little bit, he might possibly find that maybe his penguin was right in front of him.

  CHAPTER 16

  A Little Holiday Shopping—13 Days Until

  I stood in the kitchen in Mama Rosa’s, at attention beside Archer, waiting for orders from Victoria. She was staring down over the rims of her glasses at a grocery list she had scribbled onto a piece of yellow paper a mile long, and was using the pen in her hand to make corrections. The stern expression on her face wasn’t out of character, but it made me nervous nonetheless.

  I’d never really worked under Victoria before. By the time I showed up for my shifts, she usually had already signed out for the day and was with Rosie somewhere.

  “Grandma, we’ve been standing here for ten minutes,” Archer said. “Any chance we can leave this year?”

  Victoria’s eyes flashed as she glared at Archer. “You watch your mouth, boy. You’ll leave when I say you can leave.”

  Archer tipped his head back and sighed loudly as he rolled his eyes. I bit my lip to hide my smile. I’d always been under the impression that girls tended to be more dramatic, but Archer was totally changing my perspective on that.

  “And don’t you roll your eyes at me.”

  The woman obviously saw everything. It took another few minutes before Victoria finally folded up the grocery list and thrust it at Archer, along with an envelope I presumed to be full of cash.

  “I want you both to go to D’agostino’s and buy everything on this list,” Victoria said. “No more, no less, and absolutely no substitutions. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  Archer snapped a perfect military salute. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

  Victoria moved with surprising speed for someone her age as she snatched a wooden spoon off the counter and whacked Archer across the knuckles with it. “Don’t you sass your grandmother, boy.”

  I had to clap a hand over my mouth and turn away to keep from bursting out laughing.

  “Now get out of here,” Victoria said, brandishing the spoon at us. “I expect you to be back in three hours.”

  “Of course, Mrs. Incitti,” I said before grabbing Archer’s arm to pull him from the kitchen.

  Archer snagged a few cloth shopping bags off the hooks by the back door, and then we were heading through the alleyway and out onto the sidewalk in front of the coffeehouse.

  “Does preparing for holidays normally go like this in your family?” I asked.

  “What, my grandma bossing everyone around?” Archer said. “Hadley, that’s every day. My grandmother is the matriarch of the family. She’s seventy-nine, but I swear she’s been keeping herself alive off espresso and pure spite all these years.”

  As we walked to D’agostino’s, Archer listed off a few of the meals that would be prepared for Thanksgiving dinner. By the time he was describing the desserts his mother and aunts made, my mouth was watering at the thought of getting my hands on a few cannoli or some tiramisu. The more he talked, the more I began to feel disappointed. I had nothing to look forward to but a day of takeout, alone in the apartment by myself.

  It took us almost a half hour to reach D’agostino’s. It was a rather large grocery store, but it had that homey feeling of a business that had remained in one family for a long time—sort of like Mama Rosa’s.

  Archer folded up the piece of yellow paper Victoria had given him and tore it in half, separating the list, then handed me one of the pieces.

  “Here. We’ll divide and conquer. Grab your own shopping cart, and let’s meet up at the registers in a half hour.”

  I did my best to replicate his military salute, grinning. “Sir, yes, sir.”

  I was still smiling as I grabbed a shopping cart and made for the dairy section. The first few items on my list were approximately nine different types of cheese.

  I had no idea what Victoria could possibly need that much cheese for, but her orders earlier had been very specific. I did not want to be subjected to her wrath if I didn’t get every block she’d asked for.

  Strolling through the aisles, plucking things off the shelves, and sorting through the fruits and veggies was a mindless sort of task, and as I went, I thought about Archer. We only had thirteen days to go, and I sensed I was finally getting through to him. Yesterday we’d gotten more personal in our conversations than we ever had before. I didn’t even talk to Taylor about my parents the way I talked to Archer. My weird family dynamic was something I’d kept bottled up for so long, but for some reason I knew I could share that side of my life with him.

  And I was so relieved Archer was showing me glimpses into his own private world and the thoughts that always seemed to be swarming his mind. He was not an open book by any means, but I got the feeling he trusted me—or was at least starting to.

  Maybe this was what Archer had needed from the very beginning. For somebody to say hello, to be persistent and show him they cared. To do something small and simple to show him he mattered. Small things could make a difference.

  “Excuse me. Do you need some help with that?”

  I started at the voice that had spoken quite literally out of nowhere, and glanced over my shoulder to see a very tall, very elegant-looking man standing uncomfortably close. He was dressed in a perfectly pressed gray suit, and his blond hair was slicked back in a way that didn’t seem popular anymore. I placed him to be at least in his thirties, but he held himself in a way that made him seem older than that.

  “I’m sorry, Hadley,” the man said in a smooth English accent. “I didn’t mean to give you a fright.”

  He smiled at me with his head tilted to the side, and I realized when I got a good look at his eyes—one a deep blue, the other black as pitch—that this was no ordinary man. The little time I’d spent with Death gave me the ability to recognize that much in a person. A shiver of fear raced down my spine as I wondered how in the world he knew my name.

  “Oh, no, I . . .” I sounded as if I had just been punched in the gut. “I’m . . . I’m fine. I’ve got it.”

  The man raised an eyebrow, and there was an unsettling glint in his mismatched eyes. “Really, it’s not a problem.”

  Before I had time to object, he moved closer, reaching up to grab at a large can of artichoke hearts. “Four cans, yes?”

  He had to have read the grocery list placed on a box of pasta in the cart, because I knew for a fact that I hadn’t voiced any of the items I needed to collect. The man pulled down four cans of artichokes and then turned to me, resting his hand on the side of my cart.

  “There. That wasn’t so difficult, was it, Hadley?”

  I was about to demand this man tell me how knew so much, but was prevented when Archer’s voice called, “There you are, Hadley. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  Whatever was written on my face—panic, most likely—as I stared at the stranger before me seemed to immediately set Archer on high alert. His grip on his own cart tightened when he noticed the man standing so close to me, and Archer’s back was ramrod straight as he approached.

  My visitor didn’t move, instead turning his smile on Archer as he came to a stop in front of us, saying, “Oh, hello,” in that eerily smooth voice.

  “Hello,” Archer said. He left the cart and came to my side, forcing the man to take a step back as Arche
r slid an arm around my waist.

  It was a possessive gesture, one that made it seem as if there was something more than just friendship between the two of us—but I suspected that was what Archer intended. The look on his face confirmed it.

  “I was just giving Hadley a hand here,” the man said. “Couldn’t reach the top shelf, bless her.”

  “Is that so?” Archer said. “Very nice of you.”

  The man smiled again, although this time his eyes were tight. “Oh, I always try to be nice.” The way he pronounced the last word sounded anything but.

  I opened my mouth in an attempt to intervene, or at least come up with an excuse on the spot for Archer and me to escape, but Archer gave my hip a hard squeeze—a clear sign that said, Let me handle this.

  “Don’t see that much anymore in this day and age,” Archer said.

  “No,” the man agreed. “I don’t suppose you do. But it’s a small world. I suspect we’ll be seeing each other again.”

  He winked at me as he backed away, giving another one of those smiles, and then turned and sauntered off down the aisle.

  The moment the stranger was out of sight, Archer let go of my waist and took a step back. A sigh of relief escaped me as I leaned against the shelves, a hand at my chest.

  “Who was that?” Archer asked. He’d fixed his gaze on the end of the aisle as if he were expecting the man to return.

  “I . . . have no idea,” I said slowly. “But he was definitely . . . freaky.”

  “I don’t like the way he was looking at you,” Archer finally said, glancing over at me. “Like you were something to eat.”

  I had been more focused on the man’s eyes, the way he seemed to be able to see straight through me, rather than his expression. I was starting to worry that he was one of the things Death had warned me about, back when I signed the contract. The things that didn’t like when the order of the world was disrupted, something I had definitely done when I went back in time to try to save Archer’s life.

  And even if Archer didn’t know the truth about the unbelievable secrets I carried with me, he knew enough to tell that there was something wrong with that man.