Shaking her head, Murphy put on her jacket, stamping her feet against the cold.
Hank chuckled. “Love your friends.”
“Floyd and Lloyd? Yeah, they are awesome.” She did love them, and she was fairly certain they would hit it off with Hank. She just wasn’t sure they wouldn’t accidently tell her secret. The one she needed to tell.
In the back of Hank’s Range Rover, Eloise was having her own dance party. Murphy could hear the beat of her pop music blaring through the closed windows. She stopped and waved when she caught them watching.
“Hey, Wheezy,” Murphy greeted sliding into the front seat while Hank jogged around to the driver’s side after double checking that Murphy was sure she didn’t want to drive.
“Okay, girls. Let’s get this shopping thing done.” Hank turned out of Iverson’s drive in the direction of town.
It was busy for a Thursday afternoon, but then again Murphy should have expected that since it was the last weekend to shop before Christmas.
Wheezy picked up a couple things for her mom, and a tie for her dad — that she already declared that he’d never wear. Murphy picked up something small for Mrs. P and Mr. G’s favorite lemon candy. She also picked up cat food and kitty litter that Hank had insisted on paying for. They had only been shopping for an hour before Hank decided that he was starving and it was time to eat.
They made their way to Bob and Ellie’s. Murphy sent up a silent prayer that no one recognized her from visiting with Mr. G.
Twinkle lights flickered overhead, as a band played Christmas songs in the square. How they were able to keep their fingers moving in the cold, Murphy wasn’t sure.
Eloise led them to a booth in front of the large windows so they could watch the festivities in the square. A waitress with a Santa hat came over and took their orders. Hamburgers for Hank and Wheezy, a plate of fries and a strawberry milkshake for Murphy. After scarfing down her meal, Wheezy slid out of the booth.
“I’ll be right back.”
Hank’s eyebrows raised. “Okay?”
“I’ll be right back, Hank,” she repeated, she turned to Murphy. “Keep him company, yeah? And whatever you guys do don’t follow me.” She started backing toward the door.
“Wheezy, wha—”
Eloise pointed her finger in his direction. “Hank. I’m getting your Christmas present.” Her eyes darted toward the window. “And don’t watch where I go either to try and figure it out.” She turned on her heel and pushed out the door.
Hank looked out the window, following his sister with his gaze. Murphy picked up her napkin and tossed it at him. “Hey, play nice. Let your sister have this.”
Shrugging, Hank took a long sip of his milkshake. “Just making sure she got across the street safely.”
Murphy pursed her lips at him. The protectiveness of Hank for his sister set her heart fluttering. “Really? Hank, this is the square. What is she going to get run over by? A crazed shopper?”
“Hey, you never know.” He picked up a fry and popped it in his mouth. Studying her, he asked, “So, Cain, what’s your favorite subject in school?”
“Literature. Followed closely by creative writing. You?”
“History. Favorite color?”
Rapid fire questions. She narrowed her eyes. That’s how they were going to play. “Red.”
“You have an entire Saturday to watch your favorite show. What are you bingeing?”
“Doctor Who.”
Hank’s eyebrows shot up. “Really? Doctor Who?”
She nodded. “Yep. Now it’s my turn. That was two for you and you still haven’t answered.”
“Blue and old school MacGyver.”
“No way. MacGyver?”
“Total way.”
“That is so lame.” Murphy sank a fry into ranch before swiping it through the ketchup.
“What’s lame is your eating habits. Ranch and ketchup? Who does that?”
Murphy smiled. “Don’t knock it until you try it, Harrington.”
Shaking his head, Hank leaned over on his elbows. “So. What deep dark secrets does Murphy Cain keep.”
Bad time to take a gulp of her shake. Murphy choked. “Secrets?” she coughed out, eyes watering.
Hank passed her a napkin, chuckling. “I was just joking, Cain, but now you have me wondering.”
“Sorry, I swallowed wrong,” Murphy cleared her throat. Now. Tell him now. Her head was practically screaming. It was an open invitation to tell him about the real Murphy. And still, she really didn’t want this to end. “What about you, Hank Harrington. What’s your biggest secret?”
“Now who’s not answering questions?” Hank sobered and stared out the window at the shoppers passing by laden down by bags with last minute gifts they’d spent way too much on. Murphy noticed Hank’s tapered fingers fiddled with the straw sitting in vanilla milkshake turned melted mush. “I don’t want to go into the family business,” he confessed.
“What would you do instead?” Murphy used a fry to write her name in the drying blob of ketchup.
Sighing, Hank leaned back in the booth, arms draped over the sides. “If I could do anything, I’d just play the piano.”
Goosebumps popped up on Murphy’s arm. Music from her memories danced melodies through her mind. “You play piano?”
“Everyday since I was three.” Hank picked up a fry and dragged it through a pile of ranch and ketchup before popping it in his mouth. He faked gagged. “That’s disgusting, Cain.”
She chuckled. “Overreact-er. So, you want to play professionally.” She found herself lining up the fries left on her plate.
Hank nodded, around a mouthful of burger.
“Why can’t you?”
Swallowing, Hank barked out a bitter laugh. “My father would never go for that. He’s convinced if he leaves the company to Tripp, he’ll just run it into the ground.”
“Seriously?” Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t really see Tripp as the CEO of a fortune 500 company, but wasn’t that the sort of thing someone could grow into? Learn to do?
“Sorry, I hope you weren’t counting on Tripp being the sole heir or anything like that.” Hank rolled his eyes. “Apparently, I’m Richard Harrington’s last hope.”
Choosing to ignore the Tripp-jab she went on. “Why don’t you just tell your dad you don’t want the company. Wouldn’t he want you to follow your heart?”
“Oh sure,” Hank pushed his plate toward the end of the table and leaned on his elbows. “Hey, Dad I’m just going to forget all the plans you’ve had for me and become a pianist. Murph, that’d go over like lead.”
“What about Eloise,” Murphy motioned to the direction Eloise had disappeared. “It’s the twenty-first century, female CEOs aren’t unheard of. She would totally rock it and she could be the last hope of Richard Harrington.”
“Wheezy would love that, but Dad doesn’t see it that way.” Hank rolled his eyes, shrugging. “Being a pianist is just one of those pipe dreams, never going to happen.”
“I still think you should talk to him,” Murphy pushed. “He’s your father. He wants you to be happy, right?”
Hank let out a long sigh, hand raking down his face. “Let’s just drop it. Me and the piano just aren’t meant to be.”
Murphy swallowed not liking the fact that it sounded like Hank was already giving up on his dream without a fight. She took a long draw from her milkshake giving herself a brain freeze.
“Waffles, that hurts.” She clutched her head. What was she supposed to do when getting brain freeze? Drink more cold stuff? Breathe out like a dragon? Push the tongue to the roof of her mouth?
“Brain freeze?” Chuckling, Hank leaned over the table, holding out Eloise’s cup of melted ice water.
Murphy shot him a confused look.
“Just trust me.”
Murphy slurped down few gulps of water, surprised when her headache began to subside.
“Better?” Hank sat back a smug look on his face.
Murphy dipped her fingers in the water and flicked it toward Hank.
“Hey now!” Hank pretended to shake water off himself. “That’s just rotten. You try to help a girl out, and this is the thanks you get.”
“At least it wasn’t food.”
“True that.” Hank slid out of the booth. “Come on. Let’s go find Wheezy. Mom’s going to expect us home soon.”
They grabbed their coats from the stand by the door. Hank shrugged into his before helping Murphy with hers.
They pushed out into the cold afternoon. Murphy was pretty sure it was colder than when they sat down for lunch. She groaned inwardly knowing that, with the dropping temps, snow couldn’t be far behind. At least it would be pretty.
They didn’t get far down the sidewalk before they spotted Wheezy trudging toward them, arms loaded down with bags. She had done some serious shopping in the last twenty-five minutes.
“Wheezy, what in the world?” Hank met her tugging the bags from her arms. “I thought you said you only had a couple stops left! You must have bought out the stores!”
Eloise shook her arms at her sides. Relief washed on her face not having the load of bags any longer. “I did, but then I thought of a few more things I needed. Stop trying to peek in the bags! Your gift is in there.” Eloise swatted her brother as he tried to bend to see what was in the bags he was carrying.
“You should have told us. We could have come helped you.” Murphy felt bad she and Hank had been sitting and visiting in the warm cafe while Eloise had been drowning under bags and boxes.
Eloise waved her off. “It’s really not so bad.”
“But still—” Murphy was cut off by the shrill tone of Hank’s cell phone.
Glancing at the caller ID, Hank grimaced.
“Girls, our time has come to an end. Mommy dearest calls.”
Chapter Eleven
Murphy needed to make things right with Emmaline. She was barely sleeping and refused to believe it was because of their fight. News flash. It totally was. Murphy knew that she should just shrug it off as part of her old life, maybe going forward Emmaline wouldn’t be there, but that just felt so final. Maybe if she talked it over with someone who was in the thick of things with her—whether he knew it or not—she would feel better.
Slipping on an old Bon Jovi t-shirt, another item of clothing saved from her dad’s closet, over a long-sleeved shirt, she tugged on her coat. Tying a scarf around her neck, she pulled a wool beanie down over her ears. At the last minute, Murphy tucked Fiona into her coat. The visit would do Tripp good. She would just have to make sure Mrs. Harrington didn’t find out. She tiptoed across the kitchen, trying to remember what Mrs. Potts’ morning routine was. If she was caught, she’d just say she was going for an early run. With a cat. Because that seemed logical.
Murphy squared her shoulders to bear the cold before pulling open the door. Glad she had remembered to put on the wool socks that Mr. Gruber had given her, she kicked at the dead leaves and pine needles on the lawn. The sun was just coming up painting the sky with brilliant oranges and pinks.
It was much quicker to get to the Harrington house by cutting through the green, jumping over the sad excuse for a property fence, and swimming through the trees that bordered the entire Harrington property. Thirty-five minutes later she was stomping on the Harrington steps trying to get feeling back into her legs. At least Fiona seemed to enjoy the trip as she was snuggled up against Murphy, purring.
Murphy was only a little surprised that Jarvis swung the door open before she had a chance to knock, looking as if he had been expecting her.
“Good morning, Ms. Cain,” Jarvis bowed at the waist and helped Murphy remove layers, startling, and quickly recovering at the sight of Fiona.
“Good morning, Jarvis.” Murphy slipped off her Cons, damp from the morning dew. Balancing Fiona in her arms, and praying she didn’t decide to bolt, Murphy placed them by the door, knowing that the capable butler would probably stash them in a closet until she was ready to return home. “I was just going to visit with Tripp if it’s ok.”
Jarvis bowed his head as if a girl coming over unannounced with a cat before breakfast was the most normal thing in the world.
“Yes, Miss. I’ll bring some of Mrs. George’s hot coffee. Unless you’d prefer cocoa or tea?”
“Coffee would be marvelous.”
Murphy made her way down the hall toward Tripp’s room. She pushed the door silently open, gasping to see Grandpa Jack sitting next to Tripp’s bed reading a paperback by the light of a lamp. He glanced up, putting a bookmark in his book, and placed his glasses on top of his head.
“Good morning, Murphy dear. I was expecting the nurse. Is it morning already?” He put his book down on the side table and stretched glancing out the large bay window into the dark.
“Barely,” Murphy smiled, putting Fiona on the bed. “I brought a friend for a visit.”
Grandpa Jack stood up from his seat and offered it to Murphy. “I’ll let you two young people, and feline, visit,” he stroked down Fiona’s back who arched to his hand. He chuckled. “I’m going to go in search of some coffee and breakfast. I hear Mrs. George has some of the best pastries around these parts.”
He patted her arm before silently crossing the room and closing the door behind him. Now that Murphy was here, her mouth felt oddly dry. It wasn’t as if Tripp was actually going to respond to what she had to say. It was basically like talking to a corpse. Not that Tripp was a corpse. Yet. Oh, waffles why would she think that?
She had practiced a speech the entire walk over. It had kept her mind off the fact that she was pretty sure her nose was freezing off her face. And here it was. Go time. Her stomach tightened, and she glanced over to the door making sure that it was closed before launching into what she had come to say.
“Hey, Tripp,” Murphy whispered. Why was she whispering? It wasn’t as if anyone would be up at this hour to eavesdrop on her confession — well, except apparently Jarvis and Grandpa Jack. But for some reason she felt like those two would keep her secret. Even if they did manage to overhear her barely-there whispering.
Fiona sniffed at the tubes flowing from her Master before taking a paw and ever so gently pressing it to his face. When he didn’t wake up, she curled up in the hollow of his neck and laid her head on his shoulder.
Murphy sucked in a deep breath, cleared her throat, and started again.
“Um,” Murphy bit the inside of her cheek. She had never felt so awkward — and she had been in some weird situations, especially lately. She glanced over her shoulder at the still closed door. Maybe she hoped someone else would come in and save her from the confession. This room felt so big. The large windows covering three-fourths of the room probably had something to do with it. If she lived here, she’d want this to be her room. She loved that it overlooked the woods that surrounded the property. A squirrel bouncing over the leaves distracted her.
“So it’s me. Murphy Cain. Again.” Murphy chuckled. “Jarvis… I mean Jim… do you call him Jim or Jarvis. Is it only Hank who calls him Jarvis? Anyway, he let me in this morning. Good morning. I thought I’d come by and say hello before the day got started. And I think Fiona was missing you too. Don’t tell your mom on me. Hank said she’s not a fan.” She was rambling. There was a tap at the door, and Jarvis walked in with a tray of coffee and what looked like at least four different type of muffins. “I thought you might want some breakfast as well, Ms. Cain.”
“Thank you, Jarvis. This is a lot. I don’t even know if I can eat all this before I need to head back to Iverson. I can’t stay—”
Jarvis held up a hand, cutting off Murphy’s objections. “That may be, but you can stay long enough to eat one of Cook’s tasty muffins with your coffee while you warm up.”
He placed the tray next on the side table. “The strawberry cheesecake muffins are my personal favorite.”
Murphy smiled her thanks as Jarvis bowed out of the room.
“Fiona is doing good.” M
urphy bit into the muffin as she gave Tripp the update. Her eyes slid closed and she moaned. This was good. “My room isn’t as big as yours, but I don’t think she minds. There aren’t as many places that she can hide.” Murphy chuckled to herself. She’d stowed the kitty litter in the bathroom and hid the food and water bowl in the little alcove between the dresser and wall under her bed. Fiona didn’t seem to object. Her favorite place to perch was in Murphy’s bed on her favorite fluffy blanket. “She was almost out of food so I had to pick some up when I went to town with your brother and sister yesterday. I couldn’t find the brand that you’ve been feeding her, so I just got something that looked good. Hank wouldn’t let me pay for it. You have a really good brother.” That is beside the point, Murphy. Get to what you were going to say and get out of here.
Murphy wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee. She was colder than she thought. She took a sip trying to figure out what spices were added to it. Cinnamon? Nutmeg? Turmeric? She’d have to ask Mrs. George for the recipe. She drained the mug and set it back on the tray.
“Your whole family is nice. So welcoming. I know it’s bad that I still haven’t told anyone that I’m not really your girlfriend. It’s just kind of nice to hang out with people who don’t know where I come from. Who don’t, you know, pity me.” Murphy ran a hand through her hair, messing her pony. She freed it from the elastic tie and started braiding it over her shoulder.
“I know that doesn’t make it right. Emmaline isn’t even talking to me over it.” Murphy pushed out a breath, refusing to cry. “I promise that before the break is over, I’ll tell your family the truth. And I promise not to make this weird when you — everyone — gets back to school. In fact, if it’s ok with you, we can just pretend that it never happened.
“Well, I hope you have a good day.” Murphy felt silly has soon as she said it. “I mean … have … never mind.”
Murphy picked up the tray and went to find Jarvis or Mrs. George, cradling Fiona in the nook of her arm. Balancing the tray on one hand, Murphy opened the door and tiptoed out into the hallway. Turning she almost ran into Hank, leaning against the wall. Who from the look of his mused hair, sleep pants, bare feet and newspaper under one arm looked as if he had just rolled out of bed and was on his way to visit Tripp.
It Happened at Christmas Page 10