The Perfect Plan

by Carina Taylor

  "You probably have. You should go. That woman knows how to throw a reunion. She was probably talking about the one at the end of July. We can't miss that one. Just watch out for the kale-infested foods she makes."

  "Sounds great. Hey, random question: is it safe to run around here in the mornings?"

  "Run? What do you mean?"

  "You know, go for a run for some exercise."

  "I don't know why anyone would want to do that, but the only dangerous thing in Colter is the senior citizens. Half of them can't see, and the other half don't care. So, watch out for the cars — they might not see you."

  Libby wondered which category Marcie fell into. But with her mystery novel plans, Libby could guess.

  She probably ran over a pedestrian before breakfast just for laughs.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  EVERYTHING WAS SILENT around her — no cars driving below her bedroom window, no sirens, no drunk college students yelling in the street. It was peaceful and suffocating. She was in the middle of Nowheresville, dead center of Granola-Land.

  How had that happened?

  Except, she knew. She had brought this on herself. She should never have let Evan help clean that house or tuck her in with that warm sweatshirt.

  How delusional she had been that night. She didn't know what she had been thinking, other than that it was an easy way to stash some money in her savings account. A weekly paycheck to do nothing — nothing but prevent a murder. She needed hazard pay to deal with Marcie.

  She should pack her bags, head back to San Francisco, and stay with Vivian. It was the only reasonable thing to do. It was only too evident that Marcie was a competent woman who did not require a caregiver. She might need a jail cell but not a caregiver.

  Libby had expected to find someone sitting in front of the TV, drinking Diet Coke and knitting. She didn't expect to find someone who was busy writing, was actively involved in her community, and had friends all around town. It challenged Libby's view of older generations.

  And then there was the part where Marcie was writing her mystery novel and likely to kill someone before the end of summer. A murder. That well-preserved ancient specimen of a woman wanted to murder someone. Maybe her medications were off balance. Libby would look into that as soon as possible.

  Libby glanced at her phone. It said 4:35 am. She had a text message from Evan; it had been sent at 4:34 am. Now she knew why she was awake at this unearthly hour. If there were any reason on the earth for a person to text another person at 4:30 am, Libby would be a little more understanding. But there wasn't a good explanation. What could someone possibly need at this time of morning? Was he in the middle of a hurricane or earthquake? Probably not. And short of a natural disaster, Libby couldn't think of a legitimate reason to text someone that early in the morning.

  Libby unlocked her phone.

  Evan: Are you dead yet?

  He woke her up to ask her that?

  Libby could suggest the perfect victim for Marcie. His name was Evan, and he liked to text people early in the morning.

  She texted him back.

  Libby: I have a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore. I want to go home.

  Evan: You've never been to Kansas, and did you just quote an old movie?

  Libby: Yes, I have been to Kansas. And I blame all of my old movie knowledge on Vivian.

  Evan: Why would someone go to Kansas? There's nothing there. And since when do you quote old movies?

  Libby: Talk to the roomie.

  Evan: I'm still confused why you're texting me about the Wizard of Oz.

  Libby: Colter reminds me of Kansas?

  Evan: Except Colter has my grandma, and Kansas doesn't. Don't worry, Colter will grow on you — like a fungus.

  Libby: I hope you step on gum.

  Evan: Don't get lead poisoning today.

  Libby dressed in a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt. She had specific style. It was called "getting dressed," and she didn't put much thought into what she put on. On special days, she might put on a pair of jeans.

  When Libby walked into the kitchen, the fresh smell of coffee filled the room.

  Libby had a problem with caffeine. That problem was that she loved it and consumed it whenever she got a chance. She considered it her biggest vice. She loved eating healthy — fresh fruits and vegetables, lean meats, and healthy fats. She was good at it. She exercised regularly. The only alcohol she drank was on holidays. No cigarettes or drugs had touched her body.

  Except caffeine.

  She'd tried to give it up, but she couldn't. When she gave up caffeine, she was a terrifying grumpy bear. So she did the world a favor and kept her vice of drinking coffee and energy drinks.

  She opened and closed cupboards until she found some mugs. Pouring herself a large cup from the warm coffee pot, she made herself comfortable at the small kitchen table.

  Holding the cup of coffee, she sniffed deeply in anticipation. It would be better than yesterday's coffee — it had to be.

  "It will be better than yesterday," she whispered out loud.

  The coffee that she drank yesterday must have been burnt. She took a large drink of the hot coffee.

  It tasted like dirt. And Libby would know what dirt tasted like thanks to high school softball. She spat the coffee back into the mug. Specks of something were floating in the cup. Maybe Marcie had forgotten to put in the coffee filter that morning. Libby had been known to do that once or twice.

  The coffee wasn't even drinkable­­ – exactly how it had been yesterday afternoon. Libby was going to have to start buying canned coffee if this was the type of crud that Marcie preferred in the mornings.

  She poured it down the drain and wondered what to do with herself next. Usually, she would be at work at the coffee shop by this time.

  She went into the living room and looked over the books that Marcie had written. She finally picked one that was about a safari in Tanzania. She grabbed a bottle of water instead of the coffee and sat down on the couch to read for a while.

  By five-thirty, the sun was starting to rise, so she slipped on her well-worn tennis shoes and headed outside. She jogged around Marcie's neighborhood before heading toward the center of Colter.

  Libby jogged past the shops on Main Street and turned right onto a road called Birch Avenue. A small fitness center, a quilt shop, an empty restaurant, and a hair salon lined one side of the street. On the other, there was a real estate office, a gun shop, and a pub with a large sign hanging unevenly calling it the "Pub."

  There were two advantages of being a runner instead of a bicyclist. The first was that one has time to take in the scenery. The second advantage was the lack of helmet.

  Libby didn't have a face that looked flattering in a helmet. Her petite features were grossly overshadowed by the helmet, making her look like she was five years old again. Libby would have chuckled at that mental image, but she hadn't run in over two weeks and was afraid if she wasted any air on a laugh, she might pass out.

  When she finished her run, she headed straight for the coffee shop she had jogged by earlier. The lights were on, and she could almost taste the coffee as she opened the front door to the shop.

  The rich aroma of coffee beans filled Libby's nostrils. It smelled like heaven on earth. Whatever that stuff was that Marcie made had a funny taste to it, and that was a polite way of putting it. She had a raging headache from the caffeine deprivation of the last two days. If she wanted a good cup of coffee, she was going to have to sneak down to this coffee shop every morning.

  Just the scent of coffee was making her feel better. At this point, she would be more than happy to munch on dry coffee beans.

  There were only three other customers in the shop at that hour. Two older gentlemen sat at a table in the corner, and one woman in her forties with long, fake nails sat drinking coffee and doing something on her tablet. Libby wondered how she was able to accomplish anything with such long claws.

  Libby pulled her eyes away from the bright
red talons and reached into her sweaty sweatshirt pocket with her unpainted nails and pulled out a damp twenty-dollar bill. She was tempted to buy as many coffees as she could with it. From the deprivation headaches, she figured it would take about four cups to get back to normal.

  A woman stepped up behind the counter and smiled at Libby. Her brown hair was braided and draped over her shoulder. Her green plaid shirt brought out her dark olive complexion and brown eyes. She had thick, long eyelashes that women around the world would kill for.

  "Good morning! What can I get for you?" She blinked and Libby could actually see the eyelashes move with the eyelid. Libby, unfortunately, didn't have thick eyelashes to deal with. Thanks to her brown hair, they were visible, but they had nothing on this woman.

  "Coffee, espresso, maybe a handful of coffee beans. Something with lots of caffeine."

  The woman chuckled as she grabbed a large mug from the rack. "Do you like it really sweet, a little sweet, or straight black?"

  "A little sweet."

  "Alright, I'll make you something."

  The woman set to work on the coffee, and Libby studied the menu board. Espressos, breves, white coffee — all the options were there. Not bad for a small-town coffee shop. It would be fun to see what the lady made for her. Libby liked to be surprised with her drink choices. Leaving the decision to baristas had brought new flavor combinations to her attention that she would never have considered trying herself.

  "How long are you in town for?"

  Libby turned her attention back to the woman. "I'm not sure. I'm staying with Marcie Garber. I'll probably be here most of the summer."

  "Oh I just love Marcie. Everyone does." She lowered her voice. "But now I know why you were desperate for coffee. That woman makes the most terrible coffee I've ever tasted."

  Libby smiled as the woman passed her the steaming mug. "Aha, she's tried to force a cup down you too, I see. I'm Libby, by the way."

  "I'm Jo. It's nice to meet you. I'm sure I'll be seeing you around."

  Libby took a sip of her coffee and hummed in appreciation. "You'll be seeing me every morning now. Do you own this shop?"

  "Yes, my son and I live above it. We moved here a couple years ago and started this shop. I hadn't planned on staying so long, but it's nice here. It's a nice place to raise kids."

  "That's nice." Libby leaned her hip against the counter since no one else was waiting. Libby wondered if that was the town slogan: “We didn't plan to stay, but we did.”

  "Thanks for the coffee! You'll probably get sick of seeing my face over the summer."

  Jo laughed. "It's not possible to get sick of seeing a paying customer."

  Libby grinned at that and waved goodbye.

  Libby walked back to Marcie's, enjoying every sip of the concoction Jo had whipped up for her. She may just have to open up a new best friend slot for Jo. Or maybe send in her application for sainthood — either would do.

  When Libby reached the house, she chugged the last few sips of coffee before tossing the cup in the back seat of her car. There had to be something wrong with Marcie's coffee pot. That would explain why it was so terrible. It was only six-thirty, so hopefully, Marcie was still asleep. Libby would take a look at the coffee pot and try and figure out what was wrong with it. It wouldn't be very convenient to have to run down to the coffee shop any time she wanted a coffee.

  When Libby got back to the house, she didn't spot Marcie anywhere, so she headed into the kitchen. Just as Libby started to inspect the coffee pot, Marcie opened the back door and stepped inside. Libby jumped back, not wanting to be caught with her face shoved in the coffee pot.

  "Good morning!" Marcie greeted her in a singsong voice.

  Oh no. She was a cheerful morning person. It explained so much. She must think mornings are wonderful and didn't need coffee to enjoy the day. Or maybe if Marcie had a good cup of coffee for once, she wouldn't feel like murdering someone.

  "Wow, you're up early."

  "There's too much to do in life to waste time sleeping."

  Libby wasn't sure she agreed with that sentiment, so she just hummed.

  Marcie blazed on. "In the summertime, I like to sit outside on the porch and write while it's nice and crisp out. It seems to inspire my writing."

  Libby could understand wanting to enjoy time outdoors. She loved being outside. She could even understand wanting to sit outside and read a good book. What she couldn't comprehend was wanting to sit outside in the early morning hours and write. Libby hated writing. She'd had to scrimp and fight for every A she got on school papers. Writing was painful — almost as painful as looking at a fanny pack.

  Libby wanted to do something enjoyable first thing when she got up - something like running or going out to breakfast. Even self-inflicted torture was a much better option than writing.

  "Is this your daily routine? Begin with writing?"

  "Yes, I find I can get up much earlier in the morning if I'm getting up to do something I enjoy."

  Libby agreed, "I can understand that."

  Marcie's countenance lit up. "You enjoy writing?"

  "Nope. I hate writing," Libby laughed, "but the only way I willingly get up early on a day off is to do something I enjoy."

  Marcie laughed. "Fair enough. And what do you enjoy?"

  Libby didn't even have to pause and think of what she preferred for an early morning activity. "Running. If I go for a run first thing when I get up, the rest of my day is ten times better. It's like I start out the day the right way. Off topic, but when I went for a run this morning, I couldn't help but notice how perfect all the houses in this neighborhood look. And the businesses in town are so kept up. Is there, like, a homeowner’s association for the entire town?"

  "No, surprisingly. There is a town ordinance for the business owners in town, but the rest is just individuals taking care of their houses. We have The Garden Show coming up. It's a competition between all the homes in Colter. It's the cleanest you'll see the town all year."

  "That sounds... interesting. Has Colter done this for long?"

  "Been like this forever. This town doesn't like to change," Marcie grumbled. "You'll notice we have one police officer, and the fire department has been in place for the last thirty years. There's not much they can change in a small town that already has a fire department and a police officer. That reminds me, we have a retirement party for the fire chief next Saturday. It's the biggest change Colter will have seen since the ice storm of ‘89. We've been gossiping about Vince's retirement for three years now. There was even a pool started to place bets on when he would actually retire."

  Libby ran a hand over her face. She would die of boredom in this place, or possibly a house fire since the fire chief was retiring. The most exciting thing in town was to talk about someone else's retirement plans? Libby dodged a murder and a mugging every day in San Francisco. Okay, maybe it wasn't that bad, but there was always something going on in the city.

  Libby dropped her hand when she heard Marcie chuckle.

  "Don't worry," Marcie said. "The town might be stagnant, but I don't plan on sitting on my duff and reading the Colter Gazette for the entire summer. We'll be sure to do some fun things." She twisted an emerald ring around her right ring finger. "Unless you would prefer a relaxed summer. More low-key, you know."

  Libby envisioned a “low-key” summer in Colter. She pictured herself vegging on the couch with gas station corn dogs and donut holes, watching all her favorite shows. It didn't sound too bad until the image of her gaining two hundred pounds and having a heart attack flashed across her mind.

  "What did you have in mind?"

  Marcie turned around and began rustling through a drawer in the kitchen. She pulled out a small, black day-planner. "I do have a deadline to meet for my next novel, but I figure I'll do most of my writing in the early morning, and then we can do other stuff later in the day."

  Marcie flipped the day-planner around so that Libby could read it.

  Libby's fi
rst thought was that she had finally found her spirit animal, and it was named Marcie. She liked to stay busy, and there was something written on every day on the calendar.

  Activities like kiteboarding, trail riding, a weekend in Las Vegas, and a garden show. Libby glanced between Marcie and the calendar. "Does that say buy a house?"

  "Oh yes, I forgot about that." She pulled her glasses from her shirt pocket and slipped them on the end of her nose. "Aha, yes, I better highlight that."

  She grabbed a pink highlighter from the silverware drawer and proceeded to highlight the day in July when she was planning to buy a house.

  "That ought to do it. The rest of this week I have to finish some pruning and yard work to prepare for The Garden Show at the end of this month. I'm glad you're here. You don't mind if I put you to work, do you? I could use another set of hands. What do you know about pruning?"

  Libby glanced outside the window at the backyard then at Marcie. "Is that a type of tree?"

  Marcie tried to hide the horrified look on her face before she responded. "On second thought, maybe I'll do the gardening. You can build the porch swing. I ordered it on Etsy. It has the most beautiful design. It should get here soon."

  "Fantastic. I love those kinds of projects. As long as it's not from Ikea."

  "The reviews made it sound easy. I want to add it to my front porch in time for The Garden Show."

  "I saw the Facebook page for a garden show. What is it?"

  Marcie started spreading out some papers on the kitchen table. "Not 'a garden show,' The Garden Show. It's the biggest event in Colter all year. It's a competition between the homes, and judges come by to inspect the houses and landscaping."

  "Interior, too?" Libby tried not to glance at the stack of empty burrito boxes in the corner of the kitchen.

  "No, just exterior. Thank goodness, or I wouldn't stand a chance. Springtime and summer can get a little crazy around here. You're about to find out just how competitive Colter can be."

  All Libby wanted to do was keep Marcie alive for the summer, rent a nice apartment in Portland, and start her new job. She did not want to find out how competitive Colter was.