“Probably too well,” I admitted.
She leaned into me and pressed her lips against my shoulder. She peppered my skin with warm, open-mouthed kisses. “I had a lot of fun last night.”
My eyes shuttered without my permission. “I should get going.”
She looked up and stopped kissing my shoulder. “You’re kidding.”
She offered no protest as I climbed out of bed and began the task of collecting discarded clothing from the floor.
“School starts tomorrow. And I’ve got lesson plans to write and a new bulletin board to design. I normally get all of those things done over winter break, but I was out of the country and I didn’t get any school work done.”
The more I thought about how far behind I was, the more anxious I became to the point of agitation.
“Stay.”
The single word and the feeling attached to it tugged at my heart.
“I really can’t.”
“At least let me buy you breakfast,” she urged.
“It’s not a thing,” I dismissed as I scanned the floor for my shoes. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Of course I worry, Mercy. It’s the most important meal of the day.”
I abandoned my task, but only momentarily. “Kate.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“I only said your name.”
“I know; but you had a tone.”
I sat on the edge of the bed, but no closer. I didn’t trust myself or my shaky willpower to not give in to her. I had to do this; I kept both feet firmly on the ground.
“I like you,” I started. “I do. But let’s be practical—this would never work. You’re not moving back to Boston, and I’m not moving to Curaçao.”
“So where does that leave us?”
I shook my head. “It doesn’t. There is no us.”
She thinned her lips. “I see.”
“I just …” I paused to exhale. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think it’s worth the trouble.”
I watched her work the muscles in her square jaw. Her voice came out flat: “No. Why would anyone get offended by that?”
“I didn’t say you’re not worth it,” I was quick to correct.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I’m sorry, Kate,” I offered helplessly.
She tugged the covers over her head and disappeared amongst the sheets and pillows. Her body formed an unmistakable lump under the blankets.
I slowly stood while watching her burrow deeper into the bedcovers. “Aren’t you at least going to say goodbye?” I complained.
Despite my words to her, I’d selfishly been looking forward to one last kiss.
“Ayo!” came her farewell, muffled by the sheets that remained pulled over her head.
“I don’t know what that means,” I complained.
She remained hidden under the sheets. “Goodbye!”
I pursed my lips in annoyance. I had first graders more mature than Kate Emerson.
If she wasn’t going to behave like a civil human being, then I had no reason to either. I gathered the last of my things and let the hotel room door slam behind me upon my hasty exit.
+ + +
I hadn’t participated in the walk of shame in a good, long while, but my trip back to my neighborhood was more like the ride of shame on public transportation. The subway was filled with other riders who, like myself, were very obviously in the clothes they’d worn the night before. The train car was uncharacteristically quiet with folks on their phones or heads resting against the train’s windows.
My own phone was filled with missed calls and overlooked text messages. I’d forgotten I was supposed to meet up with Racy the previous night to count down to the New Year. My phone battery was nearly drained, but I used my final percentages of battery life to call my friend.
“Where have you been?” Racy demanded upon answering the phone. “I was about to call the police to start dredging the Charles River for your body.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t show up last night,” I apologized. “Time got away from me.”
“More like your clothes magically fell off of your body and you somehow found yourself in bed with Kate again.”
I rested my forehead in my hand. “I’m such an idiot.”
“I knew it!” Racy crowed. “Where are you now?”
“The subway.”
“And Kate?”
“In her hotel room.”
Racy gasped. “You skipped out?”
“It was a mistake.”
“I hope you didn’t tell her that.”
I cringed. “Not in so many words.”
“Mercy Lewis!” she chastised.
“I know—not my best moment. But I panicked!” I defended myself. “I woke up naked in her hotel room, and she was there and beautiful and wanting to get breakfast, and I realized how much of a dream it was, but that eventually I was going to wake up from that dream. It wasn’t going to last.”
“So you hurried along the timeline.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” I reasoned.
“Oh, Mercy,” Racy sighed.
“Could you honestly see it going anywhere?” I demanded. “She’s going back to Curaçao and I’m here in the real world. If I’m going to do something, I want more than a vacation fling. I deserve more than a long-distance relationship.”
“Hey, I’m not the one you have to convince,” Racy tried to appease. “But it sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“The train is slow,” I grumbled. “I’ve had some time to think.”
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “Do you want to meet for brunch?”
I considered her question. My impulse was to go home, take a shower, and sleep until the new school year started, but I also didn’t want to go home to my empty apartment where all I would do was think—stress out about my decision to bail on Kate and worry about having hurt her feelings. Brunch with Racy was probably the perfect escape I needed.
“Yeah. I can meet you at our usual place in half an hour,” I decided.
“Give me an hour,” she requested. “I gotta figure out what to do with this man in my bed.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I juggled my morning coffee with grocery bags containing the materials I’d bought to build mini ecosystems with my students. The Styrofoam cups, potting soil, and sunflower seeds would eventually become Mother’s Day presents later in the semester, but until then, the tiny germinating seeds would serve as the day’s science lesson.
I was eager for the new semester to start. I genuinely missed my students, and I knew that once I was fully engaged in the new semester—busy with grading and lesson planning—that I could start to put my winter break confusion behind me. I hadn’t heard from Kate since leaving her hotel room; I imagined she’d booked the next flight to Willemstad and was more than looking forward to getting back to her island life. We could both chalk it up to an extended vacation fling—momentary insanity—and get on with our lives.
The lights were out in my classroom, and I fumbled beneath the extra weight of my gardening materials while trying to find the wall switch. I stood in the doorway once I managed to turn on the lights. When the overhead lights eventually flooded in, it took me a long moment to realize that something was different about my classroom. The small clusters of desks, far older than the students who routinely sat in them, had been replaced with new furniture. A crisp new box of crayons and a sharpened number two pencil sat at the top of each chair and desk combo. That wasn’t the only change: at the front of the classroom, the aged blackboard was now a white erase board.
I hovered in the hallway, blinking at the transformation. It was my classroom, but not. The upgrade was subtle, but also monumental. What had happened?
Still unsure of what was going on, but knowing that students would be arriving soon, I continued with my morning routine. I unpacked the gardening materials and set up prep stations in one corner o
f the classroom. My students would be decorating their Styrofoam planters, which required I retrieve markers from the school’s general supply room. The ‘supply room’ was actually a deep closet with walls filled with shelves that tended to be picked over. All of the staff and faculty shared the space, although some of the older faculty members tended to buy their own school supplies knowing the communal materials tended to be less than adequate.
I shook my head in wonder when I opened the door to the supply room. Like my classroom, the closet had been transformed sometime between teacher orientation and now, just a few days later.
What was going on?
A voice came from behind me: “It’s a Christmas miracle.”
I spun on my heel to find my principal, Grace, standing in the hallway. Her unexpected voice had startled me, along with the changes to the school.
“Christmas was weeks ago,” I observed.
“You know what I mean.”
“What happened?” I asked. “Where did this stuff come from?”
“To be honest, I’m still not entirely sure. I was in the parking lot last night, just about to get into my car, when a semi-truck pulled up and started to unload everything. We apparently were awarded a grant.”
“That’s amazing, Grace!” I exclaimed. “I didn’t even know you’d been applying for outside money.”
“That’s the thing—I wasn’t. Someone else on staff must have. Did anyone say anything to you?”
I shook my head. “Did the people who showed up yesterday tell you which grant it was?”
“Oh, I know this. It’s on the tip of my tongue. Something like Elliot. Ellison.” Grace snapped her fingers. “Emerson. That’s it.”
“Emerson?” I squeaked out the name.
“Oh, you’ve heard of it? I’d never heard of the grant, but I wasn’t going to tell them that.” She clasped onto my forearm and squeezed. “Mercy, we have computers in the library. The art room is totally stocked. There’s even a new microwave in the teacher’s lounge.”
I blinked rapidly, like my brain couldn’t process this new development. I began to feel light-headed.
Grace continued her animated speech. “I can’t even begin to calculate the price tag for all these school supplies and the computers they purchased. And I didn’t even tell you about the extra $250,000 we received to go towards operating costs.”
“$250,000.” A lump formed in my throat. “Does this—does this mean we’re not closing?”
“I don’t want to count our chickens just yet, but this definitely puts us back in the black.”
“That’s… that’s… Wow.”
“Like I said—it’s a Christmas miracle. Now I’ve just got to figure out who applied for the grant so I can be their best friend forever.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” I told my principal.
I spied a telltale clue sitting on a shelf in the supply closet. I reached past Grace and pulled the shiny, green orb off of the shelf.
“What’s that?” Grace asked.
“A coconut.”
She leaned toward me for a closer look. “I thought they were fuzzy and brown?”
“This is what they look like right off the tree. The fuzzy brown thing is inside.”
“What’s it doing there?” she wondered.
My fingers tightened around the green nut. “Letting me know who’s responsible for these school supplies.”
+ + +
The coconut sat on my coffee table. I paced back and forth in my living room while Racy sat on my couch. I’d texted her during the workday to tell her what had happened with my school, and she’d come over immediately after work.
None of it made any sense. Where had the money come from? Kate had sworn that it was her parents and not she who had money. Had she been lying or had she convinced her parents to bail out my school?
“Have you called her?” Racy asked.
“I don’t have her phone number,” I said. “I don’t know if she even has a phone.”
“What about contacting her online?”
I waved my hands in frustration. “I tried that, too. You wouldn’t believe how common a name Kate Emerson is. But none of them seemed to be her.”
I had the address of her family’s house in Gloucester, but there was no guarantee they would still be there. Kate had mentioned her parents normally lived in their Boston-based townhouse, but I had no idea where that might be. I didn’t even know her parents’ first names; Kate hadn’t gotten that far into the introductions.
“Why do you think she wanted you to know it was her behind the money? She could have let you believe the Emerson grant was coincidental.”
“Kate doesn’t believe in coincidences,” I said automatically.
“But why leave the coconut behind if she knew you wouldn’t be able to contact her?” Racy posed.
“I think that’s exactly why she left the coconut,” I practically growled.
“Will you sit down?” Racy huffed. “I’m getting seasick watching you go back and forth.”
I reluctantly halted my frantic pacing to sit beside my friend. Both of my knees bounced erratically until Racy placed her hands on my knees to smother their movement.
“Where is she staying?”
I snapped my fingers, amazed I hadn’t thought of it myself. “Her hotel. Of course.”
I grabbed Racy’s phone from the coffee table and looked up the number of the hotel’s front desk.
Racy stared at me, slack jawed. “She owns a hotel, too?”
The phone rang in my ear. “No, she’s just staying there.”
I actually didn’t know that for sure; her family might have owned the building which was why she’d picked that location.
A pleasant man’s voice came through the phone, greeting me with the name of the boutique hotel.
“Hi, can you connect me to a guest’s room?” I asked. “I can’t remember the room number, but it’s the second to highest floor. The guest’s name is Kate Emerson.”
“One moment, please.”
I waited while a nervous feeling grew in my gut. I hadn’t rehearsed what I might say to her.
“Hello?” The hotel employee returned to the call. “I’m sorry, but we have no guests by that name currently staying with us.”
Had she used an alternative name? It wasn’t like she was a celebrity. A more likely excuse was that I’d just missed her; maybe she’d left the coconut on her way out of town.
“Is there any way you could tell me when she checked out?”
“One second, please.”
Racy looked at me expectantly. I was impressed by the restraint she’d shown so far. “Well?”
“They said there’s no one by that name staying there,” I quietly told her.
“Yes, Miss?” The hotel staffer came back on. “We do have record of Kate Emerson staying with us recently. She checked out on New Years Day.”
New Years Day? How could that be possible?
I contained my many questions and thanked the hotel employee for his time: “Thank you for looking.”
I ended the call and tossed Racy’s phone on the couch cushion beside her.
“Well? What did they say?” Racy demanded, nearly bursting with impatience.
“She’s not there. They said she checked out on New Years Day.”
“New Years? How did a coconut show up at your school if she’d already left?”
I shook my head. “I have no idea.”
“What about her family? Does she have siblings or something who are trying to play Match-Maker?”
“I can’t imagine why. I hardly spoke with any of them at the dinner party,” I said, thinking aloud. “And I think they were already under the impression that Kate and I were dating.”
Racy exhaled and leaned back into the couch cushions. “So what now?”
“Nothing,” I decided. “She left me with no way of getting in contact with her. And even if I could get a hold of her, what then?�
��
My response didn’t seem to impress Racy, but she knew me well enough not to bug me about it. I’d only get annoyed.
“What are you making me for dinner?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I don’t know. What goes with coconut?”
Racy stayed for dinner, but I didn’t bother with the coconut. Unlike Kate, I had no idea what to do with it. But I did have the corner pizza spot saved in my phone.
I went to my bedroom where my phone had been charging. I scrolled through my contacts, not able to remember what I’d saved the pizza place under. I stopped when I reached a name I was sure I hadn’t programmed myself: Coconut Kate.
I looked at the number itself, but didn’t recognize the area code. With nothing else to do, I called the mystery number.
Someone answered after two rings: “I was wondering when you’d call.”
There was no mistaking her voice.
“When did you put your number in my phone?” I needed to know.
“When I saw you at the liquor store,” Kate said. “I wanted to give you an out in case you decided not to come to my family dinner. I figured you’re not the kind of girl to just not show up.”
“It’s bad manners,” I said reflexively. I heard a burst of laughter in the background, which had me feeling self-conscious. “Where are you?”
“Right this second? At a bar in Salem.”
“I called your hotel. They said you’d checked out.”
“I did. My parents went back to Boston, so I’m staying at the summer house for a couple of days. Wanna come over?”
“It’s a school night,” I resisted. “Where did the money come from?”
“Let me buy you breakfast,” she implored.
“Haven’t you bought enough?”
“Touché,” she chuckled.
“Where did the money come from, Kate?” I said, this time more emphatically.
“Meet me for breakfast tomorrow, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“That’s intellectual kidnapping,” I accused. “You’re holding information hostage.”
She ignored my lame analogy. “You’ve gotta eat, right? Can’t teach on an empty stomach. Why not eat with me?”
Sunscreen & Coconuts Page 19