by Steve Frech
“Anything to eat?”
“No, thank you.”
She scribbles in her book and snaps it closed. “I’ll be right back.”
She walks away, and returns a few minutes later with a goblet of pitch-black liquid, capped by a layer of creamy foam, and a small dish of water for Murphy.
I raise the glass to my lips and take a sip. It’s smooth at first, and then the bitterness hits—perfection.
“How goes it, Mr Reese?” a man behind me asks. He steps around the table and sits in the opposite chair. He’s in his forties, with salt-and-pepper hair. He leans over and pats Murphy’s head. “What’s up, Murph?”
“Excellent, Andrew,” I reply.
Andrew Paulini is the owner of the Iron & Ivy. He loves his bar and with good reason. It’s popular and profitable.
“You gonna tell me your costume for the contest?” he asks.
“Not a chance.”
He smiles. “Good.”
Andrew is part of our group of business owners who take the annual costume contest way too seriously. He’s the guy I dethroned when I went on my yearly winning streak. It’s a friendly rivalry.
“What about the parade?” I ask, taking another sip of stout. “What’s your float gonna be?”
His eyes light up. “Honestly, I’m more excited about the parade than the costume contest.”
“Your float is that good?”
“Yep. You doing a float this year? I know the planning committee keeps asking you.”
“Nah. Too much work.”
Murphy sits up to receive an ear scratch. Andrew obliges.
“How’s the coffee business?”
“Good.”
“I heard through the grapevine that you might be branching out. Possibly starting a franchise?”
“That grapevine is pretty loud.”
He laughs, and nods at my glass. “What are you drinking?”
“Imperial stout.”
“I’ll tell your server that the next one is on me.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll buy you another one after I sweep the costume contest, and first prize for the float.”
“Bold words, and thank you.”
My phone buzzes.
“Speak of the devil,” I mumble, reading the screen.
“Did I hear you say that you’re dressing up as the Devil? Didn’t you already do that last year?”
“No. It’s the franchise thing. I’m sorry. I have to take this.”
He put up his hands. “By all means.” He stands up and pats me on the shoulder as he passes. “Good luck.”
“Mr Tiller,” I say, answering the phone. “How are things at Alliance Capital?”
“Great, and I think I have some news that will be great for you, too.”
“Really?”
“I spoke to Helen Trifauni. You remember? She’s our regional director.”
“I do.”
“I showed her the financials and the photos. She loves the place. She’s eager to check it out. She’s even cutting her vacation short a little early to come see it. She wants to meet you Friday. Is that okay?”
“This Friday? In two days?”
“Is that a problem?” he asks.
“Well, Halloween is on Sunday, so that’s cutting it pretty close. The town is going to be a little crazy.”
“She’s anxious to check it out, and I don’t want to inconvenience her.”
“No. It’s fine. That works for us.”
“Perfect. So, here’s what’ll happen: she’s going to come in while you guys are open, and just watch you work. She likes to get her own feel for the place. She’ll be there for a while, peeking over your shoulders, and she’ll want to see the night’s receipts. It’ll be awkward, but that’s her method.”
“Understood.”
“After that, she’ll want to sit down with you for a little while. She’ll give her opinions about what you need to do. Don’t put too much stock in them. She likes to flex her ‘creative authority’, if you know what I mean. She does it all the time, and she tends to forget her ideas almost immediately.”
“Okay,” I chuckle.
“One thing I will say is don’t bring the dog. In fact, remove all traces of the dog from the shop. That will be a sticking point for her. She’s big on cleanliness and sanitation. Make the place shine. If she knows that the dog is there on a regular basis, it’s all she’ll be able to think about.”
“That’ll be easy enough. Consider the dog gone.”
“Great. I think that does it. Any questions for me?”
“Nope. Thanks for the update.”
“We’ll be in touch,” he says, and quickly adds, “Happy Halloween!”
*
Two hours later, I’m lying in bed with the glow of the three glasses of stout beginning to wane, while talking to Sandy on the phone.
“We’re a go.”
“This is exciting,” she says. “Aren’t you excited?”
“Yeah.”
“You don’t sound excited.”
“There’s a lot on my plate.”
“Well, get excited.”
“How was the rest of the night?”
“Good. I emailed you the reports.”
“I’ll look at them in the morning.”
“Cool. Now, get some sleep, and get your head in the game.”
“I will. Good night.”
“Good night.”
I hang up the phone, put it on the nightstand, slide under the covers, and close my eyes.
In forty-eight hours, I have one of the most important meetings of my life and I have to focus.
There’s a familiar sigh.
I open my eyes, and turn my head to see Murphy. He’s doing that pleading thing where he’s resting his head on the mattress, looking right at me.
“Yeah, yeah, Murphy. Whatever. Up-up.”
Immediately, he leaps onto the bed and drops down by my side. I’ve gone from a king-sized bed, all to myself, to a space the size of a twin bed. I scratch behind his ears, and I hear him pant contentedly in the darkness.
I need the distraction of the meeting. I want to focus on the franchise, and not Laura. I don’t want to think about what’s happening or what might happen next. Whoever is doing this knows my secret. They’re toying with me. It can’t be Laura. I know it can’t. I watched her d— It can’t be Laura. But then, who? No one else knows about her. I was the only one to see what happened, and I haven’t told a soul.
I roll over on my side and face—
—her.
The notes of the music box found us under the sheets.
Her roommate was away again, and we had just made love in her dorm room. Our successful attempt to have sex on her twin bed was almost comical. Now, our naked bodies were pressed together. As a joke, I had gotten up, and started the music box. Then, I returned to her in bed, and pulled the covers up over our heads. We lay there, under the sheet, basking in the afterglow.
“There are words to the song, you know,” she said, after a long pause.
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm. My mother said that my father used to sing them to me to get me to fall asleep.” She waited for the song to cycle through to the beginning, and began to sing to the haunting waltz.
“Just close your eyes,
And you and I,
Will brave the dark, and go dancing.
Now, time to sleep,
And safe I will keep,
Your dreams, as we are all dancing.
Come with me and soon you’ll be
Dancing on clouds in a star-filled sky.
Walk with me and you will see
A magical place we can stay for all time.”
The music cascaded before slowing to a crawl for the last verse.
“There’s nothing to fear,
You’re already here,
With us, and we are all dancing.”
The last notes faded away i
nto the corners of the room.
“Your father sang that to you to get you to fall asleep?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“That is creepy.”
She laughed. “What? It’s an old Irish folk song called ‘The Dreamer’s Waltz’.”
“It’s creepy, and if I may say?”
She raised her head and looked at me.
“I’m glad you’re a political science major, because I don’t think you’ll ever get a job as a singer.”
She tried to playfully slap me, but we were pressed so close, she couldn’t properly execute it.
I held her tightly so she couldn’t try again.
After we laughed, I continued to hold her. We relaxed into one another and listened to the music box as it cycled through the song again. As the music came to an end, I could feel her tense, like she was getting ready for the music to stop.
When it finally reached its end, she looked up at me and smiled. “So, are you going to tell me your secret?”
“What secret?” I asked. “Laura, we are naked on a very small bed. There’s nothing I can hide from you right now.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Where do you really go when you go out at night?”
So that’s what was on her mind. It was on my mind, too. That night at Mattie’s had rattled me, and I was trying hard to keep it from her. I also still hadn’t heard from Mattie, despite numerous attempts to warn him.
“I told you. It’s work.”
“Yeah, but it’s not consulting.”
“It is.”
“Jacob, I know it’s only been a couple of months, but are you going to keep lying to me?” The question was firm but honest. She was giving me an opportunity.
I decided to try to meet her halfway.
“It’s something that’s coming to an end. I promise.”
“Is that the best I’m going to get?”
“It’s all I’ve got, for now.”
Neither of us spoke for a few moments. I was desperate to break the tension, and just threw out a shot in the dark.
“What about you?” I ask.
“What about me?”
“What secrets are you hiding?”
I was only joking, but I saw her change. A guard went up. I had hit on something.
“Hey. It’s okay,” I said. “You can tell me.”
“If you’re not going to tell me yours, I’m sure as hell not going to tell you mine.”
I propped myself up on my elbow to look at her. “So, you do have a secret.”
She didn’t respond, but she clearly did.
“Tell me,” I said.
In the dimness under the sheet, I could see her grow thoughtful and reserved. “We’re not there yet.”
“We just had sex and are lying naked in bed together, and you’re going to tell me ‘we’re not there yet’?”
She looked at me, all hint of humor gone. “Where do you go, again?”
I didn’t answer.
“Yeah,” she said. “We’re not there, yet.”
Our bodies were still pressed together in the darkness under the sheet, but our minds were a thousand miles apart.
Finally, she flipped the sheet off of us. Released from our bubble, the cool air crawled over our skins.
“You should go. Since I’m never going to get that job as a singer, I need to study.” She meant it as a joke but there was an edge to it.
“Are you pissed at me?” I asked.
“… No.”
We continued to lie there, waiting for the other to speak.
“Listen,” she said, “it’s only been a while. When you’re ready, you can tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine.” She turned to look at me. “Until then, I just want to have fun, okay?”
“Okay.”
I got up, and put on my clothes.
We kissed good night, and I headed back to my apartment.
My mind was in a fog. I couldn’t keep it up. I had to get out of my situation with Reggie if I was going to keep Laura. I climbed into my bed and spent hours staring at the ceiling. If I could end things with Reggie, maybe I could tell her that my secret was over and not a big deal. That got me thinking about what it was she was keeping from me. I gave up and rolled over to try to get some—
—sleep, but the pain in my side suddenly flares.
I roll the opposite way and bump into Murphy, who groans in protest.
“Shut up, Murphy.”
The only response is that of his tail thumping against the mattress at the sound of his name.
Chapter 4
I’ve been on pins and needles all morning, trying to focus on Helen Trifauni’s visit tomorrow, but I’m constantly glancing over my shoulder for anything out of the ordinary. I field calls from Be Our Guest, begging to know if the cottage is back up, and if I can honor some of the existing reservations I’ve already cancelled. I tell them no.
I call Sandy at the shop. She reassures me that everything is ready to go, but she sounds nervous.
“Do you need me to come in?” I ask.
“Not if you’re going to be in the same state as you were yesterday.”
“All right, but call me if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
She’s right. I’ll be distracted at the shop, but I can’t sit at home. So, Murphy and I head to The Sanctuary. I spend the better part of two hours throwing his red tennis ball into the trees for him to race after it. He’s so tuckered out by the end, I almost have to carry him back to the house. Thankfully, he makes it back on his own steam. Once inside, he lamely tries to get to his bed in the study, but only makes it halfway through the study door before he lies down and starts snoring.
I try to get some work done at my computer, but my gaze constantly drifts out the window to the forest.
It’s been years since I looked to see if there have been any updates about Laura. I used to do it constantly, but after so much time had passed with no changes to the investigation, I walled up that part of my life and moved on. Now, with everything that’s happening, I want to know if there’s anything new about her disappearance. A quick search proves that no, there’s no new information. It gives me a little comfort and I’m able to get some work done.
When hunger comes on around five o’clock, I wake up Murphy, and we head into town. I hit up the Iron & Ivy one more time, and watch the final preparations for the Halloween festivities.
I order the Bacon-Bleu burger, medium rare, with a side of fries, and a seasonal pumpkin ale to wash it down. I “accidentally” drop more fries onto the ground for Murphy than I should. I try to focus on the meeting but every time I do, I think of Laura and—
My phone buzzes. The caller ID flashes “SANDY”. I quickly take a swig of beer to wash down the bit of French fry in my mouth before answering.
“Hey, Sandy. What’s up?”
“You need to come in, right now,” Sandy says, straining to keep her voice calm.
“Why? What’s going on? What happened?”
“She’s here!”
The sound of the register chimes in the background.
“Here’s your change,” she says away from the phone with forced cheerfulness.
“Who’s there?”
“The lady from the company. The one who’s checking us out.”
I sit up in my chair. “She’s not supposed to be here until tomorrow.”
“Um, yeah!”
“Okay. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. I’ll be there as soon as I can but I have to take Murphy home, first.”
“Just get here.”
The line goes dead.
*
I leave half of my burger but down the rest of my beer. I don’t waste time asking for the bill. I just leave way more cash on the table than the bill could possibly be. I take Murphy to the truck and head out.
I glance towards the shop as we drive past. Through the store window, I can see that the line is l
ong. No wonder Sandy is losing her mind.
Ten minutes later, I pull into my driveway.
I take Murphy inside. I tell him to “stay”, but when I turn to go back out, he tries to follow.
“Nope. You stay.”
He slowly sits on the floor in the hallway, clearly confused.
“Sorry, buddy. I’ll be back.”
After locking the door behind me, I run to the truck. As I jump in, I quietly curse, because that taillight still isn’t fixed, and this would be the worst time in the world to get pulled over.
*
My luck holds out and I’m able to floor it back to the shop without being spotted by a cop.
Walking through the door, the first thing I see is Sandy’s face. She’s trying to hold the place together. I walk up to the register, where Sandy is making change, while Tom and Sheila frantically try to keep up with the drink orders. This was poor scheduling on my part. It’s a Friday, two days before Halloween. Of course, we’re going to be packed. I should have been here the whole time.
“Where is she?” I ask, under my breath.
“Corner booth.”
I start to turn around.
“Don’t look!”
“Sandy, I have to look.”
“Well, just don’t be obvious.”
“Sandy, it’s fine. Everything is going to be fine.”
I raise my head to look over the line of customers.
There she is, sitting in the same booth where Mr Tiller sat a few days ago. She’s a small woman with sharp features, thick glasses, and a nest of gray hair atop her head. She’s holding a pen in her bony fingers, and there’s an open spiral notebook on the table in front of her. She’s looking right at us with a perfectly blank expression.
I smile at her.
She clicks the pen, tilts her head down, and begins furiously writing.
“Shit …” I whisper.
“I thought she wasn’t supposed to be here until tomorrow.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“So, what is she doing here? Is she going to be here until we close?”
“Sandy, you’ve got to calm down, okay? I’ll go find out. Did you talk to her, already?”
She squirms. “Yeah.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing …”
“Sandy?”
“She just came in and sat down. It was so weird that I asked her if she wanted to order anything. She said no, and I said I’m sorry, but we don’t allow loitering. I swear, Jacob, I thought she was just some crazy lady. I mean, look at her … Oh my God. I’ve screwed this whole thing up, haven’t I?”