Kingston frowned. “I’m not trying to brush you off. I just don’t think work relationships are a good idea.”
“You’ve got a point,” Carrie said, but then she lowered her voice and leaned forward with a seductive smile. “But what about being friends with benefits?”
Kingston couldn’t help himself; he laughed out loud at the suggestion. “Not my style,” he said. “Although you are lovely,” he assured her when he saw her crushed expression.
“I’ll never understand men,” she grumbled under her breath, turning back to her computer and beginning to type away, effectively dismissing him.
“We aren’t too good at figuring you all out, either,” Kingston said with a chuckle as he headed back to his cubicle.
Things fell into a predictable rhythm after that; Kingston ran whenever he could, worked harder than usual, and, slowly, he found he was thinking about Nora less with each passing day. He’d avoided calling his sister after the mess with the funeral because he didn’t want her to press him about the things he’d confessed while he was back in Texas, but guilt finally got the better of him, and he called her one Friday night to check in.
He was surprised when his mother answered the phone, and he double checked to make sure he’d dialed the right number. “Where’s Raye?”
“Kingston, is that you? How are you, sweetie?”
He sat down on his sofa. “Fine, Mom. Is everything okay?”
She laughed. “Of course everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”
“What are you doing with Raye’s phone?”
“Oh, that. I’m over here babysitting tonight, and she was in the shower when the phone rang, so I figured I should answer it.”
Kingston tried to keep up. “Is she there now?”
“Let me check.” There was silence for a moment, and then his sister’s voice came on the line.
“Hi, stranger.”
He winced. “Sorry I haven’t been better about calling.”
“It’s okay. But make sure you talk to the boys before you go.”
“Of course.” He paused. “You okay? What’s Mom doing over there?”
She was quiet for a minute. “She’s babysitting,” Rachel finally said slowly.
“I got that much. Where are you going?”
“Promise you won’t be mad?”
Kingston glanced at the phone. “Why would I be mad?”
Rachel exhaled loudly. “Well,” she said, “I’ve got a date.”
It was like he’d fallen into an alternate universe, and Kingston shook his head. “You what?”
“A date, King. Surely you remember what that is?”
“But what about Mark?” As soon as he said it, he felt like an ass. “Raye, I’m sorry—“
“No, it’s okay. I forgot I haven’t told you. The divorce is almost final.”
Kingston raised an eyebrow. “That was fast.”
He could almost hear his sister shrug. “We agreed on the terms pretty easily; I guess we were both ready to move on with our lives. Thank God it wasn’t some long, drawn out fight. I don’t think the boys would have survived that.”
“But back to this date. Who’s the guy?”
Rachel giggled softly, and she almost sounded like a teenager again. “Josh. I met him when I was on assignment for the paper.”
“He’s somebody you interviewed?”
“No, he’s a reporter. He works for my competition.”
Kingston rubbed his forehead. “You’re insane, you know that?”
“Am I?” Her voice suddenly cracked. “King, is this a bad idea?”
He wanted to tell her that he hadn’t even met the guy, or caution her about falling too fast before she had time to really heal, but she sounded happier than she had in months, so Kingston closed his eyes. “If you’re happy, it’s never a bad idea.”
“I want to be happy,” she said quietly, “and Josh makes me laugh.”
“Then that’s good enough for me.”
“When are you coming home to visit? I want to introduce the two of you.”
Kingston shrugged. “Actually, I was thinking I might see about transferring back. New York has lost some of its appeal.”
Rachel was silent for a moment. “I’m going to call tomorrow so you can fill me in on exactly what you mean, but right now, I’ve got to finish getting ready.” She paused. “You okay, though?”
He thought about it for a moment, and finally shrugged. “I’m getting by. Have fun tonight.”
“I will,” she said. “And King?”
“Yeah?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Despite Nora’s grief, spring finally came, and with it, the New York City Half Marathon. The night before the race, Nora skipped her midnight run. She wanted to make sure she got as much rest as possible before the big day, but she was too keyed up to fall asleep. Finally, she gave up and took a long, hot shower, giving herself a mental pep-talk as the water caressed her skin.
Slicking her hair back with determination, Nora leaned toward the steamy mirror. “You can do this,” she said to her reflection, “you’re ready for this.”
When she emerged from the shower, Carl was standing in the kitchen. He grinned at her and held out a thermos of coffee. “Go get ‘em, tiger!”
She laughed, taking a sip of the coffee. “Thanks,” she said, but after a moment, she passed the coffee back to him. Her stomach was too jittery to dump caffeine on top of it, and Nora grabbed her water bottle instead. “Do you think you’ll be at the finish line?”
He grinned. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. When should I be there?”
The race had a rolling start, and Nora had signed up for the first group at six am. “I’m hoping to run it in two hours, or as close to that as I can get.” She pulled her ponytail tighter. “I don’t know if I’ll be that fast, though, since it’s my first time.”
“Then I’ll be there waiting at eight. You’ve got this, girl.”
Nora gave him a quick hug. “Thank you,” she said, trying to force a smile despite the way her stomach was jumping around.
Just then, her phone buzzed, and she looked at it for a minute before answering. Who would call me this early?
“Nora, it’s Todd.”
Her stomach flip-flopped. An early call from her boss couldn’t be good, but she tried to keep her tone neutral. “What’s up, Todd?”
“I need you to open the store today. I’m dealing with a family problem, and I have no idea when I’ll get there.”
Her stomach felt like lead. “Todd, I want to help, but it’s the half marathon today.”
“Just open the store and wait for Laurel to show up; don’t worry about working a full shift,” he offered hurriedly. “Can you do that for me?”
She took a deep breath. If Laurel’s on time, I should still be able to make my start time. “Sure,” she finally said, crossing her fingers and hoping she wouldn’t miss the marathon. “I got this.” After a pause, she added, “And I’m sorry about whatever’s going on. I hope everything is okay.”
“Thanks,” he said, his voice tight. “Me, too.”
Nora hung up the phone and looked at Carl. “I have to open Books and Brew.”
He groaned. “But what about the race?”
“I should still be okay,” she said, trying to make herself believe it. “But I better change; no one wants to see a store manager in spandex.”
Carl frowned and pointed to the clock. “You won’t have time,” he said. “Just take a spare pair of shoes; you don’t want to coat your Nikes with flavored syrup for good luck.”
She laughed. “Good point,” she called over her shoulder as she rushed into her room and changed into her plain black work shoes. Tying the laces of her running shoes together, she slung them over her shoulder and grabbed her keys and her phone. “Wish me luck!” She said as she headed out the door.
Carl waved after her. “You won’t need luck. I’ll see you at the finish line!”
Nora h
urried across town, thankful that the train was on-time, and when she made it to the coffee shop, she dropped her shoes in the back and went through all of the opening manager’s duties on autopilot. Laurel showed up right at five thirty, but she glared at Nora when she spotted her behind the counter.
“What are you doing here?”
Nora glanced at the clock and pulled her apron off. “Leaving. Todd had an emergency, so I opened up for him, but now I’ve got to go or I’ll miss the start of the half marathon.”
Laurel frowned and shook her head. “That’s not fair! How am I supposed to handle the opening crowd alone?”
Before Nora could say anything, someone pounded on the delivery door in the back, and Nora hurried to answer it, glancing at the clock as she went. “I’ll take care of this,” she called over her shoulder to Laurel, “but then I’ve really got to go.”
When Nora opened the back door, an unfamiliar delivery driver was standing there, staring at his clipboard. “Books and Brew, right?” He asked, barely looking at her.
Nora nodded. “I’ll sign for it.” Reaching for the clipboard, she barely skimmed the order before signing off. “You know where it goes?”
He shook his head. “First day on this route.”
Nora sighed heavily, but she propped the door open and led him through the back to the freezer and rapidly explained the shelving system before leaving him alone to unload.
Poking her head around the front, she saw that Laurel was slammed with customers, but Nora tried not to feel guilty. “Delivery guy’s here,” she called, “so shut the back door when you get a chance.”
Laurel shot her a dirty look, but she didn’t say anything as Nora hurried to the back to grab her shoes. If I take a cab to Central Park, I might still make it, she thought, reaching for the shelf where she’d left her shoes.
Her fingers brushed against Laurel’s purse, but there weren’t any shoes on the shelf. Did they fall? Nora wondered, squatting down and looking under the shelf, but she didn’t see the familiar neon laces.
“All done,” the delivery guy called from behind her, but Nora was too distracted to do more than wave at him. Her eyes skimmed every surface in the breakroom, and her heart started to pound. Her shoes were nowhere in sight.
Suddenly, it dawned on her. Laurel, she thought, marching back to the front of the store with determination. “What happened to my shoes?”
Laurel ignored her as she rang up another customer, and Nora clenched her fists.
“Laurel, this isn’t funny. I’m already late; would you just tell me what you did with my shoes?”
Laurel blinked at her innocently. “What shoes?”
Nora exhaled loudly. “My running shoes. They were in the back, and now they’re gone.”
The girl shrugged and started making a latte. “Why would I know anything about your stupid shoes?”
“Maybe because you love going out of your way to torture me?” Nora’s voice cracked, and Laurel smirked.
“You really are ridiculous,” she said, handing the drink to the customer with a smile before heading back to ring up the next patron. “But since you’re still here, I could use some help.”
Completely at a loss, Nora stared at her for a moment. “Laurel, I paid a lot of money to run the half marathon,” she finally pleaded. “Would you please just give me back my shoes?”
Laurel shrugged. “Why are you so sure I took them? Somebody could have stolen them.”
Nora rolled her eyes. “Right. Out of the back break room.”
“You said there was a delivery; maybe the driver took them.”
A seed of doubt started to form in Nora’s mind. “Seriously?”
Laurel shrugged and locked eyes with Nora. “It’s a better explanation than the one you’re going off on.” She raised her voice a little bit, and Nora got the impression that the customers were listening intently. “Why would I do something so awful?”
Nora shook her head. “Fine. Fine, don’t admit it. I’ll just buy another pair on my way to the race.”
Laurel smirked and tipped her head toward the clock. “At this hour?”
Nora glanced at the clock on the wall. “Shit,” she muttered under her breath. It was ten to six; there was no way she could make it for her starting time, even if she could fly. And Laurel has a point; there aren’t any stores that are open this early.
For a few heartbeats, she stood there, frozen and dejected, watching the second hand tick on the clock. Finally, she sighed deeply and pulled her apron off the hook. “You win,” she said softly to Laurel as she started to make the next order. Laurel didn’t say anything, but a satisfied smile spread across her face.
Nora was sure that the girl had hidden her shoes, but what could she do? Her hands were shaking as she made a series of drinks, but as long as Laurel staunchly denied that she knew anything about the shoes, Nora realized she was wasting her breath. The minutes ticked by, and Nora sank more deeply into her misery. She was just about ready to lose it altogether and start crying into the espresso when a familiar voice pulled her out of her thoughts.
“Why the long face?”
Nora looked up and met Colleen’s steady gaze. “Nothing, really.” She said, trying and failing to brighten her tone.
“I’m surprised to see you here today,” Colleen answered. “Isn’t it the half marathon?”
Nora nodded, surprised the old women knew that. “I was planning to run it,” she admitted, darting a glare at Laurel’s back, “but now I can’t.”
“They wouldn’t give you the day off?” Colleen clucked her tongue sympathetically.
“No, it’s not that.” Nora paused, wondering if she should tell Colleen the truth. “My shoes are missing,” she finally admitted. “Laurel—Laurel thinks somebody stole them.”
To Nora’s surprise, Colleen smiled. “Easiest fix in the world.” She pulled out her cell phone, peering across the counter at Nora’s feet. “What size do you wear, dear?”
“Um, seven,” Nora said, staring at the woman. “What are you going to do?”
Colleen ignored her, turning around and speaking rapidly into the phone. Nora thought she caught the store address, but she couldn’t hear what else the older woman said. When she hung up, she faced Nora with a triumphant smile. “You’ll be on your way in no time.”
Nora shook her head. “There’s no way for me to get another pair of shoes at this hour, and by the time the stores open, the race will be over.”
Colleen winked at her. “Nothing is impossible if you know the right people. I just called my son, and he’ll be bringing you a new pair of shoes momentarily.”
“Your son?” Nora asked, feeling stupid. “What does he have to do with all this?”
Colleen chuckled. “He owns Uptown Sports. Took it over a few years ago after his father passed away.”
Another customer coughed loudly, and Nora started making the next order, never taking her eyes off Colleen. “I still don’t understand,” she finally admitted.
The older woman’s eyes sparkled. “I made him open the store and grab a pair of our best running shoes in a seven. He should be here any minute.”
Nora stared at her, astonished. “Seriously? She managed to squeak.
Before Colleen could answer, the door to the café opened and a guy carrying a big shoe box hurried in. Colleen waved him over and pointed to Nora, and the man handed her the box with a smile.
“Mom said you’re running the half today. Good luck!”
Nora stared at him, her mouth open. “But,” she began, looking at the box of expensive shoes in her hand, “how can I pay for these? Should I come by the store after the race?”
Colleen and her son laughed, and the man shook his head. “When Mom tells me we’re giving away a pair of shoes, I don’t ask questions.”
“They’re a gift?” Nora asked, feeling stupid. “But this is too much!”
Colleen raised her eyebrow. “Do you want to run the half or not?”
No
ra’s hands tightened around the box. “I want to run. I’ve been training for months!”
The older woman nodded. “Then get those things laced up and stop standing here arguing about whether or not you can accept the gift.”
A wide smile stretched across Nora’s face, but then she glanced at the clock, and her heart fell. It was already seven thirty. “I’ve missed my start time,” she said, trying to hand the shoes back to Colleen’s son.
Colleen rolled her eyes. “They’ll let you start late as long as you registered before the deadline.”
Nora’s eyes widened. “Really? How do you know?”
Colleen’s son laughed. “Mom’s run her fair share of halfs over the years.” He looked at the older woman with pride. “She’s running the full this year.”
Nora gaped at the woman. “I had no idea you ran!”
Colleen shrugged delicately. “You never asked. Now, hurry up and get those shoes on, and we’ll drive you over to the race.”
Ignoring Laurel’s angry expression, Nora ripped off her apron and rushed around the counter, carrying the box of shoes with a huge smile. “I’ll put them on in the car,” she said, throwing her arms around Colleen. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
The older woman smiled. “You can thank me by running your fastest time today.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Kingston’s allergies hit a few days before the half marathon, and despite the antihistamines he was popping like candy, he seriously considered skipping the race. But quitting didn’t come easy to him, except where women were concerned, so he laced up his running shoes and headed down town for his seven thirty start time.
The last race he’d run back in Texas had involved powdered paint and blasting music, and it had felt more like a rave than a run. The crowd at the starting line for the half marathon was a lot more subdued, but a heightened sense of energy filled the air, and Kingston started to look forward to the run despite his sinuses.
Even though it was technically spring, the early morning air was still chilly, and Kingston wondered fleetingly if he’d ever get used to weather in New York. After admitting to his sister that he was thinking about leaving, he’d started to tentatively scope out the transfer situation at work, but things weren’t looking good; his work at the New York office had been noticed by folks higher up the food chain than Mr. Fitz, and after a few innocent questions about locations and opportunities, Kingston got the impression that the bank would fight to keep him in New York.
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