by Alexa Davis
I turn my head to look at Ellie and with about ten times as much irritation in my voice as I intend, I say, “Thanks, Ellie.”
Ellie’s eyes go wide for a second, but she lets it slide—for now, at least.
“So, I was wondering if you could help me with something Nicky—” Naomi stops herself. “I’m sorry, it’s like someone telling you not to think of a pink bunny. No matter what you do, it’s the first thing that comes to—”
“Can I give you a hand with that?” I ask Ellie.
“Naomi, would you excuse us for a minute?” Ellie asks her sister.
This isn’t going to be good.
Naomi says, “Sure,” but instead of leaving the room, she just crosses her arms.
I’m not in the mood, but I don’t want to make things worse, so I keep my quiet.
“Nan, now,” Ellie commands and Naomi’s eyelids go wide. She leaves the room, leaving Ellie and me alone. Ellie turns back to me, asking, “What was that all about?”
“I’m sorry,” I respond. “Things at the office are …” I trail off. “It doesn’t matter,” I tell her. “I shouldn’t have snapped at either of you the way I did. I apologize.”
“Is everything okay?” Ellie asks.
“I’m fine,” I answer. “I think I just need a drink.”
Ellie nods, saying, “Yeah, I’d say so.”
“How about some champagne? Are you in the mood?” I ask.
“I should probably keep my head clear until I’m done mangling this recipe,” Ellie answers with a soft smile. “You go ahead, though.”
“You sure?” I ask. “I’ve got a bottle of Dom Perignon we could—”
“Was it the Rose Vintage?” Ellie interrupts, wincing.
“Yeah,” I answer, looking at Ellie out of the corner of my eye. “Tell me she didn’t.”
Ellie winces again.
“I thought you were going to talk to her about that,” I say. “Since she’s been here, she's drunk all my expensive booze, used more than three ounces of caviar as a beauty mask, and she’s claimed the north end of the house as her own.”
“I know,” Ellie says. “Come here. She steps closer and puts her arms around me. “I know she can be a pain sometimes, but she’s my sister,” Ellie says. “I’ll talk to her, okay?”
“I think I have a bullhorn around here somewhere. From what I’ve seen, you’re going to need it to get through that thick head of hers,” I say.
Oh, I was close. I was so very, very close.
“Excuse me?” Ellie says. “I get that you had a bad day at work, and Naomi’s been a pill, but that is no reason for talking about her like that. I know she doesn’t listen, and I know that bugs the crap out of you, but could you keep the snotty comments to yourself?”
My mouth is open to apologize, but that’s when I notice the smell.
I say, “I’m not trying to get out of anything here, but—”
“But what?” Ellie interrupts.
I answer, “I think your sauce is burning.”
Chapter Eleven
All that Cool Air
Ellie
Things have been a little tense around the beach house. Nick’s behaved himself since that night in the kitchen, but Naomi’s not making it easy.
I know she’s a lot to deal with, but Naomi’s going to be in my life for quite a while. I just hope the two of them can come to some understanding.
As for now, Naomi’s out swimming in the surf, and I’m getting some sun on the deck. I’ve found it easier to keep the peace if I keep an eye on her.
My phone rings and I reach over and pick it up, answering, “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Ellie Michaels from Rory’s Treasures?” a woman’s voice returns.
“Yes, who’s this?” I ask.
“It’s Helen,” she says, “Helen Kramer.”
“Oh, Helen,” I respond. “How are you doing? How’s that no-good husband of yours? Is he ready for me to come back to work yet?”
Helen, Troy’s wife, is a lovely woman who married a terrible affliction. I feel sorry for anyone who has to encounter Troy on a regular basis, but she’s stuck with him.
“Helen?” I ask.
When I hear her voice again, it comes in the form of a sob. “He’s gone!” she cries. “Troy’s gone!”
“What do you mean?” I ask. “What happened?”
She sniffs. “After you had sold everything in the store, he took off for Tahiti,” she says. “He didn’t even let me know he’d left until he called me from the plane.”
“He just left you there?” I ask. “What a jerk!”
“No,” she says. “No, he’s not. Ellie, Troy’s dead.”
I sit up, my mouth open.
“Oh my god, Helen, I’m sorry,” I say. “What happened?”
“All I know is what I heard from the embassy,” Helen says. “He was in a small village, you know, in Tahiti, and I guess he started gambling and lost money to the wrong people. When he said he couldn’t pay them, they threw him to the pigs!”
I don’t know if that’s a euphemism or not, but it sounds horrible, whatever happened.
“Helen,” I start, “I don’t know what to say. I’m in shock.”
“I’m just calling to tell you Troy left you the store,” she says. “I don’t want anything to do with that place.”
“I don’t know why he would leave me the store and not you,” I tell her. “You said you don’t want anything to do with it, but if I were to—”
“I don’t care what you do with it,” she says. “Sell it, run it—I don’t care. Go to the courthouse and they’ll take care of … whatever. I’m sorry,” she says, “I have to go.”
Click.
What the hell just happened?
I’ve fantasized about something bad happening to Troy for a long time, but I never actually wanted him to get hurt. I can’t believe he’s gone.
There’s no reasonable explanation I can offer for dialing Troy’s number and hitting send, but I do it regardless. When a man answers in a foreign language, I end the call.
I’m shaking so much I drop the phone.
When Nick comes home two hours later, I’m still sitting on the deck.
“Hey,” he says as he comes out the French doors.
“Hey,” I murmur.
He comes around into my field of vision, saying, “Are you all right?”
I give him a quick breakdown of the phone call, and I’m just staring into space. When I get to the part about the store, Nick jumps in, saying, “If you want, I can help you sell it.” He says, “I don’t know anyone in Mulholland proper, but I have a couple of friends in real estate that owe me a favor, and I bet we could get it turned around in no time.”
“What?” I ask, looking up at Nick.
He starts again, saying, “I was just saying—”
“No,” I tell him. “I think I have to take it.”
Nick takes in a deep breath of air and blows it back out again. “I know that store’s an important part of your life, but—”
“It’s not that,” I interrupt. “I mean, it’s a little that, but maybe it’d be a good thing—not just for me, but for both of us.”
“How so?” he asks.
“Would you mind if we go inside?” I ask. “I think I’m starting to burn out here.”
“Sure,” he says and helps me to my feet.
“I don’t know,” I say as we enter the house. “I feel like you and I will be on a lot better footing if I have my own thing.”
“You said you hated it there,” he says.
“She doesn’t hate it there. She loves it there,” Naomi butts in from around the hall corner. “She just didn’t like the way her boss treated her.”
“Thanks, Naomi, but I think I’ve got it covered!” I bark.
She’s probably still there, but at least she has the sense to be quiet now.
“You don’t have to work,” Nick tells me. “I’ll take care of you.”
“I a
ppreciate that,” I say and manage a smile. “I do, but all I can think is that if I just hang around here all the time while you’re off working, we’re both going to start resenting each other. I don’t want that.”
“I don’t want that either,” Nick says, “but it doesn’t have to be that way. The only thing tying you to Mulholland was that store, and now you have a chance to go wherever you want.”
“What about Naomi?” I ask.
“She’s not in Mulholland, either,” he says.
I tighten my lips. “At first, I would have agreed with you, that selling it would be the best option,” I tell him. “The more I thought about it, though, the more it became apparent that if I don’t do something, we’re never going to be on a very firm footing.”
Come on, jackass. Notice that I’m working my life around you and just be happy I’m doing it.
“The store’s empty, though,” he says. “I mean, I’m glad to help you out any way you need, but—”
“You’re sweet,” I tell him, “but no. I need to do this on my own.”
Nick sighs and then goes quiet for what feels like a long time.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask.
“Okay,” he says. “If this is what you need to do, I’ll support your decision. I just don’t like the idea of being away from you now that we’ve found each other a—”
“It’ll be better in the long run,” I tell him. “I promise. Yeah, I’m going to miss you, but this doesn’t have to change our relationship.”
“When are you going to go?” he asks.
“I think I should probably go soon,” I tell him. “If not tonight, then definitely tomorrow.”
“Okay,” he says. “Let me know what you want to do and we’ll get it worked out for you.”
“Thanks, Nick,” I say, putting my arms around him and hugging him close. “I can’t tell you how much it means to have your support in this.”
“What about …” he trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish the sentence.
“I’m fine here,” Naomi calls from around the corner she apparently never left. “I’ll hold down the fort!”
Nick has an expression on his face like he just dove headfirst into a vat of rotten eggs, but bless him, he doesn’t say anything.
“Yeah, I don’t think the two of you under the same roof alone is such a good idea,” I whisper to Nick.
“Hey, I’ve been good,” he says.
“It’s not you I’m worried about,” I say. “We should probably schedule the flight for tonight. If we give my sister any time to plan at all, she’s going to ensconce herself in this place like an annoying caterpillar trying to become an annoying butterfly.”
Nick smirks. “I’ll book the flight, but you’re going to have to be the one to break the news to your sister. I’m not getting anywhere near that one.”
He gives me a kiss on the forehead and leaves me to tell Naomi we’re heading home. I feel sorry about carting Sammie and Max back and forth, but with as much as Nick works, they’re better off coming home, too.
I’ve gone the long, rational conversation route with Naomi before. The problem with that approach is that Naomi has a short attention span and has never, as long as I’ve known her, been rational. Therefore, I decide to try a different approach this time.
Walking around the corner where she’s still standing, I tell Naomi, “Pack your stuff. We’re leaving.” I don’t break pace.
It’s been two hours of listening to Naomi go off about how it’s not fair she should have to go, too, and that if I loved her, I wouldn’t make her return to that hellhole. Every time I try to get a word in, Naomi jumps in with another stupid reason why the north side of the beach house is rightfully hers and how I have no justification for making her abandon it.
By the time Trevor shows up to take us to the airport, nothing is packed, and I haven’t made any headway with Naomi at all. It’s not until I grab her by the wrist and physically wrench her from the house, foot by foot, that she finally relents.
Someday, I’m going to convince Naomi that not everything in the world was created especially for her enjoyment. Also, I might add something about how it’s legal in most states to shoot someone if you can make a decent case for trespassing.
For now, though, I’m just happy enough to get her in the car. Naturally, Trevor has to stand in front of the town car’s only back door to keep her from escaping.
Nick helps me collect Sammie and Max, and we get them out into the car. I’m hoping for a romantic goodbye, but Naomi pounding on the back window of the car goes a long way in killing the moment.
I give Nick a hug and a quick kiss, and I tell him, “I’ll give you a call when we land.”
“All right,” he says. “I’ll see if I can move some things around and come out there to see you soon.”
“Come on!” Naomi bellows from the backseat. “If we’re going, let’s go already!”
“I do not envy you on the plane ride back,” Nick laughs.
I agree with him before I even get in the car.
We get to the airport and board the plane, and I’ve never traveled so much for such unexpected reasons in my life.
“You know,” Naomi says about five minutes into the in-flight movie, “I thought maybe we should talk about something.”
“They’re not going to turn the plane around,” I groan. “What was that today?”
“I wanted to stay behind and look into your man because I know you’re never going to,” she answers.
“Like you ever stopped,” I tell her. “Found anything yet?”
“Not really,” she says, “just a lot of papers—business stuff. Keep those fingers crossed, though. I’ve got a feeling I’m going to uncover a mistress before this is all said and done.”
We’re on a plane, Ellie. Relax, take a deep breath and— “Whatever your problem is, you need to cut it out right now,” I snap, eliciting a few gasps from the passengers around us. I may have been too loud.
“I’m just trying to look out for you,” she says. “Think about it: even if he does turn out to be everything he seems to be, are you so sure you’re ready to settle down?”
“What do you mean, settle down?” I ask. “We’re just dating.”
“Yeah, you’re dating,” she scoffs. “I suppose you didn’t happen to notice that you’ve been effectively living with him for like two months, right?”
I open my mouth and fill my lungs in preparation for my retort, only she’s right. Even before I told him I was all-in, I traveled to Manhattan with Nick for no other reason than he asked me.
The idiot’s right: somehow, without noticing, I’ve landed myself two or three steps away from marriage, and I don’t even know anything about Nick’s life before he went off to college. I’ve justified it to myself by thinking of it as “staying” with Nick, not “living” with Nick, but they’re the same thing.
Eventually, though, I come up with a passable rejoinder. “You know,” I say, “if what you were saying were true, then why am I on this plane right now? Why am I headed back to Mulholland to run the store?”
“Because you’re freaked out,” Naomi answers like she’s been waiting for the question. “I think part of you realized what was going on and used what happened to Troy as an excuse to start running.”
“You’re gaslighting me,” I tell her. “You’ve gone back and forth about me and Nick so much you have no credibility left whatsoever.”
“I’m just looking out for you,” she says.
“No, no,” I say, shaking my head. “That’s one of those phrases that sounds nice but doesn’t mean anything. You’re doing what you always do. You’re looking out for you.”
“What you need is a fling with someone to take your mind off of Nick,” she says.
“Right,” I scoff. “Cheating on my CEO boyfriend sounds exactly like the right move to make.”
“See?” she asks, either missing or ignoring my sarcasm. “I knew you’d come aroun
d.”
“I’m not cheating on him,” I tell her.
“You know, it’s not cheating if one of you is out of town,” she says.
“You know you’re a moron?” I respond.
Naomi catches me with a quick elbow to the ribs.
“Hey!” I protest, only to be shushed by the woman sitting behind me. In a much quieter voice, I ask, “What was that for?”
“Nevermind,” she says. “You see that guy over there? The one reading the magazine but turning the pages the wrong way?” she asks.
“What about him?” I groan.
“He is so looking for it. Just sit back and watch,” she says. “I’m going to show you what you’re missing by not being single.”
While it can’t be airline policy to remove a passenger from the plane midflight, maybe they’d make an exception.
Naomi gets up from her seat and “accidentally” bumps into the man’s arm as she’s passing him. She leans forward and puts her hands together on her chest, saying, “Please forgive me.” Could she be any more obvious?
She keeps walking toward the lavatory and, sure enough, within a minute, the man she bumped into is on his way to join her.
This is my life.
By the time the plane lands, Naomi’s been back to the lavatory twice, both times with a man right after her. Every time she came back to her seat—face red and stinking like the cheap cologne of whomever—she’d go into why what she just did is what I should be doing.
I’ve never been someone’s excuse for a sexual binge on a plane before. It’s not as exciting as it sounds.
We deplane and find a driver holding a sign with our names on it. After collecting Max and Sammie, we’re on our way back to Mulholland.
After we drop the animals off at the apartment, I tell Naomi I’m going to go for a walk. Of course, she insists upon going with me.
We’re walking, and she’s still going on about how I’ve had all the fun I’m going to have with Nick and how it’s time to cut the cord. The longer we’re walking, the more ridiculous her arguments become.
If I engage her in further conversation, she’ll never stop, so no matter how stupid or offensive her words, I keep quiet. That silence ends, though, as we come within sight of the shop.