The Tick-Tock Between You and Me

by Kristy Tate

  Darby tried to think of a reason why her boss would want to see her—other than the phone calls. She worked hard at her job, and she knew she was good at it. Her clients had always been happy with her advice. Her numbers were sound. Maybe her prudent advice bordered on boring…And Mrs. Green had been adamant about purchasing that nail salon, but Darby had tried to dissuade her. Was that it?

  Darby double checked her appearance in the glass partition, straightened her skirt, and followed Donna through the maze of cubicles to Mr. Hopper’s office. He had his door open and looked up with a frown when Darby entered. He waved her in.

  “Darby, how are you?” He propped his elbows on his desk and studied her over his steepled fingers. She had worked for him since grad school and admired the older man’s work ethics. He ran his accounting firm the same way he conducted his life, with exacting fairness and generosity, pushing hard when he needed to through the tax season, and kicking back in the late spring and summer when the work slowed.

  Now, he frowned at her, as if she was a puzzle that stumped him and motioned for her to sit in the chair opposite his desk. “Tell me, do you know Bernard George?”

  Darby sank into the wingback chair, pondering. Why did that name sound familiar? Because it sounded like George Bernard Shaw? “Hmm, no? Should I?”

  Glen Hopper scratched his chin and shot a glance at his computer screen. “Mr. George contacted our office today. He’s in need of an accountant and requested you.”

  “Me?”

  Mr. Hopper nodded. “I, of course, suggested Gavin Flores. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but, as you know, I’m hesitant to send a young woman, unattended, to an older gentleman’s home…safety, you know.”

  Darby also suspected sexism, but she didn’t say anything and studied her hands folded in her lap.

  Glen Hopper cleared his throat. “But Mr. George was quite insistent on you. In particular.” He cocked his head and studied her. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

  “No…I don’t.” She sorted through her family’s large network of friends and acquaintances. This could take a while because she had a large family and they had a lot of friends. But she could hardly be faulted for that.

  “Mr. George is an octogenarian, so I trust you’ll be capable of outrunning him, should the unlikely need arise.” He smiled as if he’d said something funny. “His previous accountant, a Mr. Harry Hanford, died a few months ago—he was nearly as old as Bernard George. Anyway, Mr. Hanford’s office is sending over Mr. George’s files. I’ll have Donna forward them to you.”

  “No problem, sir.”

  “Well, there might be a problem.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Mr. George owns a horse ranch—or at least it used to be a horse ranch— outside of Oak Hollow. He would like you to visit him there.”

  #

  Darby called Nora during her lunch break. “Isn’t that school you’re going to in Oak Hollow?”

  “Yes,” Nora said, and the hesitation in her voice told Darby she was gearing up for another argument.

  “I’m going there on Monday,” Darby said.

  “What?” Nora’s voice hitched with excitement.

  Darby found a bench in the shade outside her office, sat down and pulled the lid off her yogurt. “Yep.”

  “How come?” Nora asked.

  “Work. A Mr. George, a rancher, has asked for me. Weird, right?”

  “No, not weird. You’re a genius with numbers.”

  “But he doesn’t even know me!”

  “He must have—”

  Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Benjamin, again. She pressed a do not contact button.

  “Darb?” Nora asked.

  “Sorry. Just another call from Benji.”

  “Benji?” Nora laughed. “That was my name for him.”

  Darby took a spoonful of yogurt. “Suits him, right?”

  “I don’t know…your Benji is super-hot.”

  Darby waved her spoon in the air to punctuate her words, even though she knew Nora couldn’t see her. “He’s like a prize poodle on the outside, but inside he’s just a scruffy dog. A Benji. But I don’t want to talk about him. Let’s go to Oak Hollow on Sunday.”

  “Together?” Nora squealed.

  “Sure, I have to be there on Monday, and you’re insisting on going, even though I think it’s craziness, so we might as well go together. You can drive and I’ll take the train home. That is if you’re okay with my borrowing your car when I need to go to the ranch.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s a small price to pay for your moving services!” Nora squealed again. “You can organize my kitchen!”

  Darby didn’t really want to help Nora move, because she didn’t want her friend to go. But she swallowed the remainder of her yogurt and her objections.

  #

  Because the school where Nora would be teaching was six miles outside of the closest town, Darby and Nora stopped at a grocery store along the way so they could stock up Nora’s new kitchen.

  “Cole told me the cottages are fully furnished, but I’m not hundred percent sure what that means,” Nora told Darby as they pulled into the Ralph’s parking lot.

  “How about while you load up on staples, I’ll get the ingredients for the clam chowder,” Darby said.

  Nora looked over her list. “Sounds good, thanks for being so much help.”

  “Thanks for letting me borrow your car tomorrow,” Darby said.

  “Your company, not to mention your organization wizardry, is so worth it,” Nora said as she climbed out.

  Darby inhaled as the clear air hit her, while Nora rolled her shoulders and lifted her face to the sun.

  “It’s warmer here,” Nora said.

  “And drier, I think.” Darby looked past the grocery store parking lot to the brown grass covering the gentle rolling hills and the smattering of oak trees. The endless openness surprised her. Even though she knew mansions, enclaves, and ranches—like Rancho de Rio, the one she was visiting tomorrow— were tucked into the hills, the land appeared uninhabited and wild.

  “Are you sure about this?” Darby asked as they approached the grocery store’s wide glass doors.

  “About the clam chowder?” Nora asked, intentionally misunderstanding her. “Absolutely.” She pulled out a grocery cart and wheeled away, leaving Darby to get a cart of her own.

  After she’d collected everything needed for the night’s meal, Darby went in search of lip balm and lotion. She had perpetually dry skin, and whenever she left the cool ocean air for the more arid inland, she felt it.

  A young mom with a little girl in her cart stood on the opposite side of the aisle looking at diapers. A tall gorgeous blonde with grocery bag looped over her arm scooted between the two carts while a large woman with a laden cart paused beside Darby.

  The large woman’s phone beeped.

  “Look out, Mommy,” the little girl in the cart cried, pointing at the heavy woman. “She’s backing up! We got to move!”

  “Sweetie,” the mom chided the child, “that’s just the nice woman’s phone.” She smiled apologetically. “My husband owns a construction company and your phone sounds a lot like the sound the dump trucks make when they’re put in reverse.”

  “Are you calling me a dump truck?” the woman asked with a glare.

  “No, not at all,” the mom said. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

  The heavy woman stormed off.

  “Well, that was awkward,” the mom murmured as soon as the woman disappeared around the aisle.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it. You apologized,” Darby said. “What more can you do?”

  The mom lectured her daughter as she pushed the cart toward the checkout counter.

  “Kids are so awful,” the tall blonde said as soon as the mom and her daughter rounded the aisle. “I don’t know why anyone chooses to have them.”

  Stunned, Darby tried to imagine a world without Tristan, Luke, or Jolene. “If everyone felt that w
ay, the earth would soon be empty.”

  “No, there would still be the animals,” the woman said airily.

  And that would be preferable? Darby tried to dismiss the odd confrontation, but the woman’s words settled in her mind like an unfinished riddle. She couldn’t imagine a world without children and she couldn’t believe anyone would really feel differently. As if on auto-pilot, she found her favorite lip balm and put it in the cart with her groceries.

  After she made her purchases, Darby waited for Nora outside by the Range Rover and watched the heavy woman she’d seen earlier trying to load her groceries into her car. A plastic bag burst and the woman’s apples and oranges rolled across the concrete.

  Darby made sure her own cart wouldn’t roll away before going to help the woman. Dropping to her knees, she quickly grabbed as many of the errant fruit as she could.

  “You don’t have to do that,” the woman said, sniffling.

  Darby stood, her arms laden with fruit, and noticed the tears on the woman’s cheeks. “It’s not a problem,” Darby said. “I’m happy to help.”

  The woman sniffed again.

  “Is there anything more I can do?” Darby asked. “You look as if you’re having a hard day.”

  The woman took a shuddering breath. “I’ll be okay,” she said after a moment.

  “Here, let me help you load your groceries.”

  “You don’t have to,” the woman said as she loaded a bag of potatoes into the trunk of her Yaris.

  “I’m just standing here waiting for my friend,” Darby told her. “Really, you’re doing me a favor. If I wasn’t busy, someone might think I’m loitering. I could get a ticket. But if I’m helping you, everyone will think I’m a contributing member of society.”

  “You’re being very kind.” The woman shot a dark look at the beautiful blonde getting into her BMW across the lot.

  Darby followed her gaze and wondered if something had happened between the two women, but she didn’t ask, not wanting to know. She finished helping the woman with her groceries, and when she spotted Nora coming, she said good-bye.

  #

  A pair of large stone pillars and a wrought-iron sign announcing their arrival at Canterbury Academy welcomed Nora and Darby to Nora’s new place of employment.

  Darby skated a glance at her friend. Nora’s face shone with excitement, making Darby nervous. Nora had already been through so much, and this latest adventure was going to be disastrous. Darby was a strict believer in honesty being the best policy, and this plan of Nora’s reeked with secrecy and subterfuge—two traits typically foreign to Nora’s sweet nature.

  Nora followed the signs to the Humanities Hall before parking her car and shutting off the engine.

  “We’re really here,” Nora said.

  It’s not too late to go home, Darby wanted to say, but she bit back the words, figuring that Nora had probably tired of hearing her warnings. She climbed out of the car and sighed at the thought of their next task.

  Darby studied the club chairs piled into the back of Nora’s Range Rover. Darby’s brother Tom and her dad and helped put them in the SUV, but now they needed help getting them out.

  “We can do this,” Nora said, her chin jutting out with determination.

  Darby disagreed and she was just about to say so until Cole Rowling and presumably his mom, Irena Rowling walked down the steps of the Humanities Hall.

  Darby studied Irena, noting the planes of her face, searching for similarities to Nora. Irena had Cole’s warm eyes, thick brown hair, and generous lips. Darby’s gut told her that Crystal had lied about Irena being Nora’s mother. But why?

  “What’s all this?” Cole asked.

  Nora’s face lit with fan-girl worship. She wiped her hands on her jeans and hurried over to shake Irena’s hand. “You must be Irena Rowling.”

  Irena smiled. “And you’re the new English teacher everyone is buzzing about.”

  Darby introduced herself and also shook hands with Cole and Irena. The mother hen in her wanted to protect Nora, but her instincts told her Nora would be safe with these gentle people.

  Nora flashed Cole a look and he blushed beneath her gaze. Interesting. There was definitely a spark between these two—and it wasn’t a sibling sort of spark.

  “You’re putting chairs in the room?” Cole peered into the back of the SUV. It looked like a moving truck.

  “I want to create a reading space,” Nora told him. “The chairs are just a start—”

  “It looks like you need some help,” Cole said.

  “You have no idea how much,” Darby said.

  For the first time, Cole leveled his attention to Darby.

  “This looks like it’s more than a one-man project,” he said. “Let me round up Hector.” He must have noted Nora’s blank expression because he added, “Our handy-man.”

  “He’s been summoned,” Irena said as she tapped into her phone. “This looks like men’s work,” she said to her son. “Why don’t you and Hector handle this under Darby’s supervision while I get to know Nora?” She turned to Nora and took her hand. “Would you mind if I stole you away from your reading nook?”

  “Are you kidding? I would love that,” Nora said. “But…I didn’t mean to make Cole and Hector my moving crew. Do you mind, Darby?”

  Darby waved her hand. “It’s nothing,” she said, happy to have Cole to herself—at least until Hector arrived—for some questioning.

  #

  After moving the furniture, Cole invited Darby to the Green Hog bar in Oak Hollow and suggested she bring Nora, but when Darby relayed the invite, Nora hesitated.

  “But I’m supposed to make you clam chowder.” Nora waved at the cluttered kitchen counters and the collection of boxes scattered throughout the cottage. “And I need to unpack. You said you’d help me organize the kitchen.”

  “And I will, but first, I want to go out with the heart-stoppingly handsome principal.” Darby elbowed Nora. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  “Maybe the principal…my brother…could join us here for clam chowder.”

  Darby squealed and clapped her hands. “That would be so great.”

  “It seems like the least I could do,” Nora said, “after all his help.”

  Darby whipped her phone out of her pocket. “Okay, I’ll text Cole.”

  “You have his number?” Nora asked, looking dazed by everything.

  “Don’t you?” Darby asked.

  “No.” Nora turned her back on Darby to chop celery and potatoes and browned bacon strips.

  Darby went to work stocking Nora’s kitchen after she texted Cole.

  Darby opened drawers. “Wow, Cole was right. You really do have everything you need.”

  Nora peeked in the cupboard at the plastic plates, bowls, and cups. “I should have brought my own things.”

  “Why? You said you were only going to stay here for the school year.”

  “I know, but…I don’t want to feel like I’m camping.”

  “Girl, this is not camping.” Darby looked at the cute little cottage the school had provided Nora. Sure, it was tiny but it was the last on the road, definitely the best location with probably the nicest view. She wondered if Cole had intentionally arranged this for Nora, or if her friend had just gotten lucky.

  “It is great, isn’t it?” Nora asked, her voice soft and dreamy.

  “What are you going to do after your year here?” Darby asked, wanting to remind Nora that this was just temporary and she belonged in Shell Beach with her.

  “Write another book.”

  “Oh, I can’t wait! You need to name the villain Mr. Hopper. And make his evil sidekick Gavin!”

  “If you hate your job so much, why don’t you quit?”

  A typical Nora question. Nora and her ex-husband had created a billion-dollar tech business that had gone public, so for her working was optional. Darby didn’t have that luxury. “It’s not the accounting. I actually like the numbers. It’s rewarding, especially when I fe
el like I’m saving a company from drowning.” She cast about for a change of topic. “But your dad practically died of embarrassment after your last book. Are you sure you want to do that again?”

  “Oh, he’s such a prude!” Nora said with a groan.

  Darby waved her hand dismissing him. “Once he finds out where you are, and with whom, he’s going to—for once—shut his jaw.”

  “Maybe.” Clearly trying to avoid any discussion of her parents, Nora lifted the bacon out of the pan strip by strip and placed it on a bed of paper towels to drain while she stirred together cream and butter.

  Darby watched and groaned. “How is it that you have such a bird body? No one who eats that much butter deserves to be thin!”

  “I love clam chowder,” Nora said. “It reminds me of my Grandma Eleonore’s house up in Port Townsend.”

  “Did you stop to consider that if you aren’t your mother’s daughter, then even your grandmother lied to you?”

  “She wouldn’t do that.” Nora slid her chopped potatoes off the cutting board and into a pot of boiling water.

  “But if Crystal was telling the truth that had to mean that your Grammy Eleonore lied along with everyone else.”

  Nora scowled as she poked at the potatoes trying to float to the surface of the boiling water.

  The door cracked open and Cole stuck his head in. “Wow, it smells amazing in here.” A cool breeze circled the room.

  He was so cute—he would be perfect for Nora. Too bad she thought he was her brother. Darby thought the whole thing was too bizarre. She couldn’t wait for Nora’s parents to get back from their cruise so Mr. Tomas could answer some hard questions.

  “When will the soup be on?” Cole asked.

  “Not for a while.” Nora hesitated as if she wished she could give a different answer. “The potatoes need to soften up, and then everything needs to simmer. Also, I need to finish the bread and let it rise.” She grimaced. “We’ve at least an hour.”

  “Can we skip the bread?” Cole asked.

  “No,” Nora and Darby answered at the same time.