by Eryn Scott
I sighed. Even surrounded by clues in this ever-deepening conundrum of a case, I was back in Pine Crest, sitting in one of my favorite spots on campus, curled up next to Alex and Hammy.
The buzzing of my phone in my pocket cut through the peaceful silence a few minutes later, making me jump. Alex moved his arm so I could sit up straight and pull the phone out of my pocket. Hammy snorted in surprise, the movement waking her up from the nap she was taking, nestled in between us. I groaned as I noticed the call was from my mother.
10
Finger hovering over my phone screen, I considered not answering. I didn’t particularly want to break the lovely, quiet scene of the creekside bench and willow tree. But I also knew my mother and her penchant for being persistent. If I didn’t answer now, she would only call back in a few minutes. Holding my breath, I pressed the answer button.
“Hey, Mom,” I said, cringing at what I knew what was coming.
“Honey, hi! I hear you had to cut your trip short. That’s terrible.”
I nodded. “Yeah, especially for the dead guy.”
Seeing I wasn’t going anywhere, Hammy settled her chin back on my thigh as Alex scratched behind her ear.
Mom tsked at my comment. I could tell she was pacing by the clicking sound of her heels in the background. Heels meant she was at work, on a Sunday. The woman had a problem.
Confirming my suspicions, she said, “I’m at the office, but I’m just about to head home and since you’re back early, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind stopping by and looking through those boxes of your dad’s books I set aside for you.”
Taking a minute to breathe and temper my tone, I said, “Sure. We could do that.” I glanced over at Alex and he raised his eyebrows, aware I’d just volunteered him to come with me.
“We? Oh, is Alex with you? It would be wonderful to see him!” she said, loud enough for Alex to hear.
He smiled. My super-scary lawyer mother had practically waterboard-level interrogated the guy the first time she’d met him. After that, it had taken her a while to warm up to him after he’d arrested her new boyfriend, Duncan, in a murder case. But ever since he’d saved my life after I’d been kidnapped last year, the guy could do no wrong in my mother’s eyes. She adored him, in fact.
“Yep, he’s here,” I said. “We’ll be over in a few.”
“Great, dear. See you there. If you arrive before me, Duncan’s there, so just knock.” And with a click, she hung up the call.
Any happiness I felt left me in an instant. I grumbled as I put away my phone. “Duncan’s there? Just knock?” I spat out the words. “I’ve never knocked on that door in twenty-three years. And does she think I’ve forgotten where she hides the spare key?” I looked at Alex who was pressing his lips together while he listened to me rant. “It’s under the stone shaped like a heart next to the maple tree we planted for Grandpa when he passed, by the way,” I finished, yelling a little more than I meant to. Hammy sat up and barked, joining in on the game.
“Well, now we’re not the only ones who know how to get into your mother’s house.” Alex glanced over his shoulder. “I’d say pretty much all of campus heard that.”
Playfully shoving him, I said, “Good thing it’s almost empty right now.” Leaning back into him. “I’m sorry, I’m not really handling this all that well.”
Alex wrapped his arm around me again, pulling me close. “I can’t even imagine my dad meeting someone else, so absolutely no judgments here. I think you’re handling it pretty well, to be honest.”
There was a short moment where I wished Mom would be more like Alex’s dad. But then I remembered I wasn’t living with her like Alex lived with Detective Valdez, and hadn’t since I started college five years ago. I suppose she was bound to get lonely, to want company.
A quote from Walden floated on the wind, winding around the tendrils of hair spilling across Alex’s shoulder and tickling my cheek. “If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment,” Thoreau had written.
I thought I would never smile again when I first heard about my dad’s heart attack, thought my life would never be as good. But it turned out losing him had given me the push I’d needed to follow in his footsteps and someday become an English professor. It had also put me on the path which led to me getting the bookstore.
And while those things would never be true compensations for what I’d lost—I’d give them all up to have my father back even for a day—I had to admit, things had a way of working themselves out if you let them. Plus, it was nice to see my mom happy again, to catch her eyes light up when she looked at Duncan like they used to when she saw Dad.
I allowed myself to snuggle in close to Alex for a moment before sighing and standing up. “Okay, into the lion’s den.”
Hammy woke and jumped off the bench, ready at my heels to go wherever our adventures led next. Alex stood and wrapped an arm around my shoulder as we started toward my mother’s house… where I would knock, because Duncan was there.
The walk through campus and down Madrona Drive was peaceful, if not a little toasty. Early September in Washington was generally warmer than all of us Pacific Northwesterners were comfortable with, but the knowledge that the rain and snow weren’t far away made us feel obligated to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted, no matter how sweaty we got. Alex, however, seemed cool as a cucumber. California summers must’ve gotten much hotter than this, I supposed.
Finally, we reached my mother’s house, my childhood home. The roses Dad had planted along the front of the house were in full bloom still, offsetting the blue of the house with bright yellows and reds, even a few purples. My mother’s car wasn’t in the driveway, but Duncan’s blue BMW was. I repeated Thoreau’s words in my head. Despite my outburst, I lifted my hand, made a fist, and knocked on the door. Next to me, Alex cleared his throat and simply put a hand on my lower back in support.
I could hear footsteps thumping on the old wood floors. The sound grew closer and then the door swung open, revealing Duncan. The man looked like a middle-aged movie star, ala George Clooney. He was not very tall, but his full head of salt-and-pepper hair, rugged jawline, and devil-may-care attitude made him look like he was constantly posing for yet another red carpet event or umpteenth gala.
Contrary to his looks, he wasn’t a movie star, but had been the manager to a handful of them in Hollywood up until last year when the stress became too much and he decided to move up here. He and my mother hitting it off so well definitely seemed to factor into his decision, but I couldn’t blame him for that at all—my mom was beautiful, smart, and powerful in a way which made the people around her feel empowered, too.
“Pepper! Alex! Welcome!” He stepped aside and held a hand out, sweeping it in front of him in a hospitable, be-my-guest kinda way. “Oh, and I can’t believe I forgot Hamburger. Hello!” He addressed Hammy as she scrambled in first, her feet slipping on the hardwood.
Gently urging me forward with the hand resting on my back, Alex stepped forward. I let my reservations out in a big sigh and then stepped inside so Duncan could close the door behind us.
I knelt to unclip Ham from her leash. After giving me a thankful snort, she hightailed it over to the large area rug in the living room where her paws had a little more traction.
“Hey, Duncan.” I smiled, hoping my expression didn’t look as forced as it felt.
I really had been getting along with him better lately. After he’d sold his place in California and moved up here for good about six months ago, we’d spent some fun evenings together with my mom, Maggie, Josh, and the kids, as a family. But that was just dinner or a movie or a few rounds of cards. Full-on moving in? This was major stuff.
“Your mom should be here in a few minutes.” Duncan checked his watch, his jaw clenching slightly in what I could only assume to be discomfort. “Do you want something to drink while you wait?”
Whenever my mother said she was “just leaving work” it meant she was u
sually another hour or more out. Call me crazy, but sitting here with a nervous Duncan and an unsure-how-to-handle-it-all Alex for any length of time didn’t make the top of my list of things I wanted to do.
“Uh, I can check those boxes now,” I said, pointing in the direction of Dad’s old study. “If you don’t mind me just heading back there,” I added, remembering I was supposed to be respecting that this was going to be his house now, too, and that I hadn’t lived here for years.
The hard creases in Duncan’s camera-ready face softened. “Oh, that’s absolutely fine with me.” He turned to Alex. “You want anything while the two of us wait?”
Alex’s mouth dropped open, but before he could bumble out a response, I grabbed his hand and said, “Oh, I need Alex to help me.” I dragged him with me, down the hall before Duncan could argue. Even Hammy abandoned him, noticing we were leaving and following me down the hall in a cacophony of slipping paws and scratching nails.
Ducking into the office which used to house my dad’s study behind Hammy and Alex, I closed the door and breathed out a sigh of relief.
“Thank you,” Alex whispered, flopping down into the leather armchair in the corner. Ham jumped up and plopped down in his lap.
Winking at him, I plunked down on the floor in front of the first box. Small talk was not one of Alex Valdez’s strengths in the best of times, and getting stuck chatting with his girlfriend’s mom’s boyfriend seemed like a Pit and the Pendulum-level punishment. Undoing the flaps on the box, I peeked in, moving the items on top aside so I could get a good look at the contents.
“So what is all of this?” Alex asked, surveying the half-dozen boxes sitting in various stages of fullness around the room.
“Books mostly,” I said, glancing inside the others I could see from where I was sitting.
“And your mom doesn’t want them?”
“The only books Mom cares about have titles including the words torts and trials. Plus, she knows I’d probably want most of them, anyway. This is mostly a formality.”
“You think you’ll sell some of these at the store?” Alex asked.
I hadn’t been quite sure of my answer until I felt my nose wrinkle up and my head begin to shake. “I’ll keep them in my office in the bookstore for now, since I don’t think I can fit anymore in the apartment, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to let any of them go for a good while.”
As I spoke, I lifted a weathered copy of Walden out of the mix, resisting the urge to hug it to my chest. Despite the sadness that sat heavy on my chest, making it hard to breathe, a smile tugged at the edges of my mouth.
“There was this one summer when I was…” I paused for a moment, squinting one eye. “Thirteen, I think, and Dad took us all camping.” I could almost hear that Tom Petty album start up in my mind like a soundtrack to my memory. “Maggie and Mom wanted to go play at the lake, so Dad and I took a leisurely hike, just the two of us. He brought this and a copy of Thoreau’s diary along and read me passages while we walked.”
Glancing up, I saw a reminiscent smile grabbing the corners of Alex’s lips as well.
“Sounds special. I can see why the book means so much to you, then.”
“He loved Thoreau.” I set the book back down in the box and picked out a thinner volume, Civil Disobedience. It was worn, but still maintained, like a chef’s favorite knives might be. I thought of Dad’s soft voice and wild, unkempt auburn hair. “He used to have this saying when people would tell him he was too quiet to be a redhead. He would say, ‘I love being quiet, because it means the majority of people underestimate me and therefore will be wowed when I show them the fire I hold inside.’”
Alex grinned. “Sounds like a quote from Thoreau, honestly.” After a moment, he put up his hands and said, “One of the good ones, of course. I don’t think everything the guy wrote was awful.” He bit at his lip, worry showing in the furrow of his brow.
Laughing, I waved the copy of Civil Disobedience at him. “I knew what you meant. Don’t worry about it.” I flipped open to the title page of the small book. Folding the page back, my eyes caught along the sharp edges of my father’s name, marking this as his just like all of the others. But what sat below his name made my heart stop and the breath catch in my throat.
A drawing in the same pen of three As in rotational symmetry, like the top portion of a star.
It felt as if all of the heat was instantly sucked out of my body only to pool in my face, rising up my neck in uncomfortable waves. My rational brain felt like it tumbled into a heap of emotion and confusion.
Had my dad been a TriAlpha?
“Something wrong?” Alex asked.
When I glanced up, he was staring at me, worry evident in his narrowed expression.
“Uh…” I gulped, heart pounding. The book began to slip from my fingers, so I hastily grabbed at it, fumbling as I closed it. “No.” Once the lie left my lips, I pressed them together, wishing I could take it back.
But this couldn’t be real. My quiet, kind, lovable father couldn’t have been involved in this corrupt, haze-happy fraternity.
Alex’s eyes searched mine, needing more.
“I—uh—just forgot how intense this one is,” I said, willing the heat to leave my cheeks.
He blinked, holding me a few moments more with his gaze, before looking away.
I hastily shoved the book back into the box, folding the flaps back in the crossed pattern so they’d stay closed. Hammy jumped off Alex’s lap and began rooting around in the corners of the study, so he moved to sit on the floor next to me. In an effort to take my mind off the symbol, I dug into the next box, smiling over at Alex.
It took us a while to get through the rest, especially since I pulled each book out warily, afraid it might also hold the symbol and I would be forced to acknowledge it was true. Then Alex would know, too. But luckily, the one drawn in Dad’s copy of Civil Disobedience was the only one of its kind.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, alerting me to an email as I was looking through the penultimate box. Sitting back, I decided to take a break and check the email. I had just found my father’s copy of A Tale of Two Cities inside and had needed to take a quick cry break anyway. I would’ve had a hard time seeing one of my favorite books anyway, but with all of the doubts and worries swelling in my heart, it was all that much harder.
Alex took my bout of tears as proof this box was going to come with me and went to add it to the pile while I took my phone out of my pocket. As I turned on the screen and opened my email, my emotions swung from sad to surprise.
“Chloe responded,” I said, voice choking around my recent reaction.
Alex turned, eyebrows raised in question. “And?”
I pressed my lips together for a quick second before answering, knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer. “She wants to meet at the bookstore, tonight… alone.”
11
I knew there was absolutely no way Alex was going to agree to Chloe’s stipulation about meeting alone, so when he shook his head and said, “Well that’s not happening,” I was ready with a plan.
“What if I show up alone…” I started, holding up my finger to stop him when he opened his mouth, an angry scowl darkening his face. “But my super helpful boyfriend chooses that time to drop off these boxes of books.” I motioned to the boxes littering my dad’s old study, of which I’d decided to take every one.
Alex’s eyebrows arched up, showing me he was considering it.
“That way I don’t scare her away, but you can still pop in at any moment if you see a need.”
He pulled in a deep breath. “Or you could email her back and tell her it was your super helpful boyfriend who found her blog in the first place and really he should be the one meeting with her or at least should’ve been included in the email you sent.”
I chuckled, looking at Hammy who’d plopped down next to me. “Gosh, Ham. With that attitude, no wonder she wanted to meet with me instead.” The dog cocked her head to one side and then
glanced over at Alex.
He put his hands up. “She didn’t—you didn’t even let me—” He shook his head. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. But I’m coming in with those books the moment I’m uncomfortable with you being alone with her.”
Closing the space between us, I stuck out my hand. “Deal.”
Alex shook it, rolling his eyes in the process, but I noticed his lips tug into a reluctant smirk. I promptly emailed Chloe back and told her I would meet her at Brooks’ Books tonight at five thirty.
Just as I hit send, the sound of the front door opening and closing reverberated through the study. Hammy’s ears perked up as my mother’s heels clacked against the entryway floors. Glancing down at my watch, I noticed it was nearing two o’clock, which meant she was an hour later than even I had predicted she would be. Alex and I looked at each other. I took one last glance back at the box which held Civil Disobedience. I was tempted to take the copy with me so I could investigate its pages further, but I knew after my freak out earlier, Alex would know something was up, so I left it safely tucked away.
Cracking open the door, I let Hammy go first. She was waiting, nose to the opening, butt wagging already, so it was only fair. The knowledge that Ham’s adorable antics would temper any mood my mother might be in—depending on what she’d been dealing with at work, the first few minutes after she walked through the front door could vary in intensity—may have factored in my decision, slightly.
Alex and I headed for the living room, but stopped short as we passed by the kitchen, seeing Mom and Duncan in there instead. Mom was leaning down to greet Hammy as Duncan poured her a glass of sparkling water, probably knowing she hadn’t hydrated enough while at the office. He timed it perfectly and was proffering it toward her just as she stood up straight, popping the button on her gray suit jacket in a way which was second nature.
Mom took a second to send Duncan an appreciative smile, then she looked to us. “Sorry I’m a little late. I got—”