Kinley

The snow takes a few days to melt, but it’s nearly a week before the nasty slush and mud dries up. I’m not used to so much down time, and it sucks that Holt couldn’t be here for most of it. They’re moving his brother to Colorado to his new rehab this week, and I know Holt was torn over whether to go with him or let his dad go alone. He finally decided to go and help him get settled in, then see if he’s needed.

I know he’s worried because Marcus was doing well with the psychologist who has been treating him, and he may not be willing to start over with a new one. But the new place is a ritzy, expensive center where they’re equipped to deal with his physical and mental rehabilitation, along with his addiction issues. I’ve seen pictures of the place and it looks more like a fancy resort than a medical facility.

The transfer means it’ll be two weeks until I’ll see Holt again, so my mood today is surly at best. And now Clark says he has something important to talk to me about. He doesn’t make a big deal over things, so it puts me on edge. I’ve been so happy since Holt and I reunited, and everything has been going well with the renovations and changes at Foxhaven. I hope whatever he has to say isn’t going to kill my streak of good luck.

He’s supposed to meet me in my cabin and when I pull in the drive, he’s already there. “You got here fast,” I remark, unlocking my door and escorting him inside. “Do you want something to drink?”

“No thanks.” He takes a seat, and I sit across from him on my couch. His hands rub together, and he looks a little sweaty. Whatever he has to say, he really doesn’t want to.

“Are you sick or something?” That’s the worst thing I could think of, that he’s coming to tell me he has some horrible disease.

“No, no, I’m fine, but I did…make a huge mistake.”

Clark has always been a fixture in my life, a second father who has tried to guide and protect me, especially since Dad died, and I have never seen him so worked up. “Okay, just tell me what’s up so we can figure out how to fix it.”

The words fly out of his mouth like he’s spitting out hot coals. “I got drunk and…did some stuff with your mother. It was a mistake that will never happen again.”

It takes a few seconds for his words and their meaning to permeate my brain. “Did some stuff? You had sex with Heather?”

“Not exactly. A type of sex. But she, I,” he stumbles.

I get his reticence, but I also have no idea what he’s talking about. A type of sex? Does it really matter to me what type? I probably don’t want the details. “Stop, look, I get it. You fucked around with Heather. I thought you hated her. You’ve been on my ass since the beginning about having her here.”

He rubs his hand over the back of his neck. “Which is why I’m worried you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you.”

Even though Clark and Harriet never told me about Heather and let my father’s lie carry on past his death, there’s no two people I trust more.

“Clark, whatever you have to say, I’ll believe you. I know you wouldn’t make shit up just because you don’t like someone. Tell me what happened.”

“One night, back before the storm, I was in the bar late because I couldn’t sleep. I thought a few drinks might help, and Heather was working. It was just me and her, and I guess I had a few too many, although it’s pretty blurry to be honest. I remember talking to her, then it goes fuzzy until we were in my room, and she was…” He looks away from me. “Blowing me. Then I guess I passed out because the next thing I knew it was morning and I was hungover like I haven’t been since I was a kid.”

Picturing Clark and Heather together makes me shudder. It’s like picturing your parents having sex, but I’m not sure why he was so concerned about telling me. “Okay, look, I’m going to be honest. I’m kind of grossed out by the thought.”

“Ditto,” he grumbles.

“But, you’re both adults and it’s really none of my business who either of you sleep with.”

“I didn’t sleep with her—thank fuck—but she’s been trying to use that night against me anyway.”

Now he has my attention. I sit up straight and look at him. “What?”

“Heather thinks I have enough influence over you to convince you to let her move into Foxhaven and give her a better job. After…that night, she came and asked me to talk to you about it. I refused, and she got pissed. Ranted and raved and told me that she would just tell you I took advantage of her while she was drunk. Try to get me fired. Since then she keeps dropping little threats, trying to get me to give in.”

His gaze meets mine. “Just to make it clear, there is no world in which I would try to manipulate you or your decisions. I may not agree with some of them, but I respect them. I’ve been trying to find a good time to tell you. Whatever story she comes to you with will be bullshit, Kinley. I’m telling you the truth.”

Sincerity rings in his voice, alongside the pleading tone, and I want him to know one thing right away. “I believe you. You’ve been there since I was a kid, Clark, and I barely know her. I’d believe you over her any day.”

His shoulders sag with relief. “Thank you. I’m not going to tell you what you should do, if anything, but you should know you can’t trust her. She wants what you have, and she wants it bad.”

I get up and grab us both a beer. After that conversation, I’m sure we both need one. “It’s strange. She asked me before about moving in, and I told her it wasn’t a good idea because you’re right, I don’t really know her, and that’s her fault. Not just while I was growing up, but now too. She hasn’t tried to have much to do with me since she started here.

“She’ll say hi and stop to chat when I go into the bar during her shift, but she never looks for me or tries to make any plans. I’ve been distracted with Holt, so I really didn’t care or pay much attention. She’s my mother, and I’m trying to help her out, but I did think she might be a tiny bit interested in getting to know me.”

Clark looks me in the eye. “That’s got nothing to do with you and everything to do with her. You’re a great kid.” He grins and corrects himself. “A great woman, and anyone would be proud to have you as a daughter. This is how narcissism works, and your dad always said she was the most narcissistic person he ever met. They only worry about themselves.”

Pulling my legs under me, I sip my beer. “Kate has had a few issues with her lately. I’ll talk to her and see if Heather is still giving her trouble. She may not be working here much longer if so. Firing her could get her kicked out of her halfway house and put her on the street, and I don’t want to be responsible for doing that to anyone, but I also won’t let her damage Foxhaven or its reputation.”

Clark smiles at me. “You inherited your father’s work ethic and strength, but that compassion is your own. It’s a good trait to have but beware of the people who’ll take advantage of it.”

“Believe me, I’m not the most trusting person after the year I’ve had,” I scoff.

Clark gets to his feet and grins down at me. “Understandable. For what it’s worth, when it comes to that asshole Holt, I think you could do a lot worse. He seems to have your best interest in mind, and he takes care of his family, which says a lot about a man.”

I stand up and hug him. “Thank you. You’re my family, too, you know. So, don’t hesitate to tell me stuff in the future. Especially if it might affect what we’re trying to do here. I want Foxhaven to be family friendly.”

After Clark leaves to go back to work, I run the things he said through my mind. The blowjob—ew—is no big deal but thinking she can use him to get what she wants from me pisses me off. My instinct is to just fire her and push her out of my life, since she seems to have little interest in being in it anyway, but some tiny part screams that she’s the only parent I have left. I can’t put her out on the street.

There’s going to be a serious conversation about this, though. And the option is still there if I find out she’s trying this type of thing with anyone else. I won’t have my staff manipulated by her.

I’ve heard people described as narcissists before, but I don’t know exactly what that means, other than being self-centered. I take a few minutes to search the internet for an overview before calling Kate.

She lets me know Heather is getting ready to clock in for her shift, and she has no problem covering for her while we speak, so I head to the bar.

Heather prances through the door in pants tight enough to see her religion and a polo shirt that’s at least one size too small for her big breasts, but technically, she isn’t breaking the dress code. We have more important things to discuss anyway.

“Kinley!” She rushes over with a smile and gives me a stiff hug. No matter how much time I spend around her, it doesn’t feel…genuine. It’s like we’re both plastering on faces to play the characters of mother and daughter.

“Hey, I need to talk to you for a second.”

“Sure thing!” she sings. “Just let me clock in.”

I grab a soft drink and take a seat at a corner table. There are only two customers at the moment and they’re both at the bar, where they can’t overhear. She returns and drops into the seat across from me.

“What’s up? How are things going with your hot musician? I saw that video.” She fans herself. “Whew.”

“We’re good. What happened between you and Clark?”

A barely perceptible flinch is followed by a blink, and she stares at me for a moment. For someone who has committed crimes in the past, she’s not very good at hiding her reaction.

Caution lies thick in her voice. “What did he tell you?”

Oh no. That’s not going to work.

“It doesn’t matter. I want to hear it from you.”

Her palm squeaks against the table as she drags it toward her and sits back in her seat. “It wasn’t exactly one-sided. And it was a one time thing after we had a few too many drinks.” She props her chin on her hand, and her face slumps into a childish pout. “I thought he liked me.”

“You two despise each other.”

She flashes a quick grin. “Sometimes hate sex can be hot. And I don’t really hate him. He was nice when we talked that night, and I thought he liked me.” She crosses her arms and stares at the table. “I guess not, but I don’t know why he had to bring you into this. It was between us.”

Anger blooms at the sound of her self-righteous, indignant tone, and I do my best to control my temper.

“He told me because you’re trying to use him to get what you want from me. There’s one flaw in that plan. I don’t take orders from him or anyone.”

Maybe it’s because I don’t trust her, but her shocked, clueless expression looks fake to me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Clamping my hands together in my lap, I try to keep my voice steady. “Clark told me you wanted him to talk me into letting you live at Foxhaven. And you threatened to tell me what happened if he didn’t help you.”

“That is not what I said!” Her bottom lip pokes out, and her eyes turn glassy. “He…must’ve misunderstood. Yes, I’d like to live here, and I thought since you value his opinion, that he could talk to you for me.”

She reaches out and grabs my hand. “I just want to be closer to you. I never see you. You haven’t even introduced me to your friends or boyfriend. It’s like you’re ashamed of me.”

Wow. I’m glad I looked up narcissism, because she’s just checking off items on that list of warning signs. I’m not letting her turn this around on me.

Pulling my hand back, I speak slowly, trying to make myself perfectly clear. “I’m trying to help you get on your feet, but there’s a few things you should know right now. I will not be manipulated, and I will not tolerate any bullshit when it comes to my resort. That includes drama with the staff, most of which have been here for years. We’re a family here.”

Resentment seeps into her expression. “I’m your family!”

“No,” I snap. “You’re not. You never have been.” Kate glances our way, and I realize I’ve raised my voice. Lowering my tone, I lean back in my seat. “Maybe this whole thing was a mistake.”

Her defensive posture melts instantly. “No! It wasn’t! I’m sorry. I’m still…adjusting to this new life. I didn’t mean it the way Clark took it, but I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

She’s speaking at the speed of light and tears start running down her face. “I love this job and I need it. I have to keep it, or I’ll be homeless, and you have no idea how horrible it is to sleep on the street. I won’t cause any trouble, I swear. Just give me another chance.”

My head thumps with a stress headache. I feel like I’m walking that line of wanting to be a good person, but not get walked on in the process. Kate has no complaints about her work, nor have any guests complained.

“Fine. Kate says you’ve been doing a good job here. Just keep your personal life separate. No hitting on the guests.”

I get to my feet. “And save your money for a place after the halfway house because moving in here isn’t an option.”

She nods, and I wave to Kate as I head back to my cabin. I need a pain pill and a nap. Or whiskey and an orgasm. Holt hasn’t been gone three whole days yet and all I want to do is crawl into his arms.

As if he can hear my thoughts, my phone rings with a video call, and Holt’s smiling face pops up. “Hey, Bug. Are you in bed?” he asks, noting my surroundings.

“Yeah, it’s awfully big and empty though.”

“Are you sick?”

Warmth spreads through me at his concern. “No, just a headache. Her name is Heather.”

The view shifts as he sits down. “What did she do?”

“Apparently, she’s been trying to manipulate me through Clark.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. “So, Clark talked to you.”

Wait. What does he know? “Yeah, he did. But you obviously know something. What am I missing?”

“Clark asked my advice because he was nervous to tell you. That’s all. He knew if he didn’t eventually say something, I would.” Amusement leaks into his voice. “That big guy was afraid. You’re a little scary.”

I didn’t mean to sound suspicious or accusatory, but I did. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s been a long day and I’m probably dealing with some trust issues. Dad lied to me, you lied to me. Heather is just taking advantage. I don’t want to feel like I have to second guess everyone and their motives, and I’m trying to deal with it.”

“I get it. I’ll earn your trust back. No lies or secrets between us.”

“I do trust you.” Sighing, I roll over and prop the phone up against a pillow. “The Clark thing, though. Ew.”

He bursts out laughing. “Not something you want to picture?”

“Not at all,” I giggle. “I miss you. What’s it like there?”

“Like a damn five star country club for spoiled brats. Marcus is being an ass. They’re weaning him from the pain pills.”

“Ugh. I hope he isn’t taking it out on you.”

Holt shrugs. “His bullshit runs right off me. I’ve got to go. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Talking to Holt, even for such a short time, makes me feel better. It always does. Stretching out in my bed, I wrap my arm around a pillow he used and inhale the scent of him that still lingers until I doze off.

Shivering, I step inside the lobby of Foxhaven and wave to Tessa at the front desk. The weather has turned bitterly cold, and the wind off the lake cuts through clothing like it’s paper. Foxhaven isn’t fully booked, but between guests attending a couple of nearby conventions, and two families from the children’s hospital, we’re keeping busy. It’ll die down again as we near Christmas. We always close for the week of Christmas, so my staff can have a paid week off with their families.

I’m thrilled with how the renovations are going and I’ve recently hired a PR firm to try to get our name out as a family friendly resort, not just a high class one. We’re already almost fully booked for the spring and summer, which is a good sign.

Heather has pretty much avoided me since our talk, and I’ve given up on even trying to give a shit. She’s not my mother. Harriet is more of a mother. I haven’t been brooding on it, though. I have my daily video chats with Holt to cheer me up, plus Foster and Anavrin are coming over to hang out tonight since we haven’t all been able to get together in a while. It’s going to be a good day.

The morning is busy, but not stressful, and I’m just thinking about what I’d like for lunch when Tessa calls from the front desk.

“Kinley, there’s an emergency. One of the housekeepers called down to say the man in Suite 2C is unconscious and doesn’t seem to be breathing well. I’ve called paramedics.”

Shit. “Okay, I’m on my way to his suite. Call Clark. He knows CPR. Have him meet me there.”

My heart thumps in my chest as I rush up to the second floor. We’ve had medical emergencies here before, a few heart attacks or blood sugar crashes from older guests. We even had a woman die of a heart attack in one of the first floor rooms when I was a kid. It’s terrifying.

Gloria, one of the housekeepers, stands outside the door, a look of relief flooding her face when she sees me. “I didn’t know what to do. I’ve tried to wake him, but he won’t budge. He’s breathing, and he has a pulse.”

“It’s okay,” I assure her, hoping my voice won’t shake. “Paramedics are on the way.”

Clark rushes in just after I enter and checks the man over. “He’s breathing, but it’s shallow and his pulse is weak. It looks like an overdose. Look around and see if you see any sign of drugs.”

Drugs. It’s always drugs, and the opioid crisis has hit our little town as hard as any large city. Marcus is far from the only one beholden to them. “Does he need CPR?” I ask, looking around for signs of needles or pill bottles. I’m not very familiar with this guest, but he has stayed with us before. He doesn’t look like a typical junkie, if that’s even a thing anymore. He’s just a business man.

“No, not yet, anyway. I’m watching him.”

Paramedics rush in, and Clark lets them know what’s going on. “There’s no sign of drugs,” I inform them.

“We’re going to administer Narcan in case. It appears to be an overdose,” the young woman medic tells me.

“How long does it take to work?” I ask, watching as she gives him a shot while another starts an IV.

“A few seconds.”

Seconds tick by and turn into a minute while they load him on a stretcher. It’s clearly not an opioid overdose since the Narcan has no effect. “What hospital are you taking him to?” I ask, then run out to grab my coat.

As I’m passing the front desk, I pause to talk to Tessa. “Look up his info and see if he gave an emergency contact.” People sometimes think that’s a weird thing to ask when they stay with us, but it’s for moments just like this. “If he did, have Harriet call them and tell them he’s on his way to St. Vincent’s Hospital. If you get any questions from guests, just tell them a guest fell ill and needed medical assistance and everything is fine. And text me his name.”

“Got it.”

I’m not letting this man go to the hospital alone. He may have only spoken to me a couple of times to say hello, but someone needs to be there. Clark steps up behind me as I’m on my way to my car. “Ride with me.”

“Okay.” I’m not going to argue with some company.

The hospital won’t tell us much since we aren’t family, but the man’s wife is on her way. After a few hours of waiting, a nurse tells us he’s awake and willing to see us. Thank goodness.

Tessa texted me his name, and I greet him as we enter. “Mr. Hillbrand? I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Kinley Matthews, and this is Clark.”

“Of course,” he says with a grin. “They tell me you saved my life. Got me here just in time. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you’re okay. Do you…can you tell me what happened?”

He fumbles with his gown that keeps trying to slip off his shoulder. “It’s weird, but I’m not sure. I stopped in the bar for a nightcap, and the last thing I remember was remarking the drink tasted a bit off. I thought maybe they mixed up my order. Then I woke up here.”

Clark’s eyes widen, and he steps forward. “Salty?” he asks. “Did it taste salty?”

Mr. Hillbrand nods. “Now that you mention it, yes.”

Confused, I open my mouth to ask Clark what he’s talking about, but he gives a quick shake of his head.

Mr. Hillbrand’s wife rushes in, and we step out into the hall to give them some privacy.

“What was that about?” I ask Clark.

“That’s exactly how the night went with Heather. I thought I must’ve had too many drinks, but I only remembered two, and the second one tasted salty.”

Pieces start to fall into place. “You think Heather drugged your drink? And his?” I gesture to the door.

“I think it’s too damn similar to be a coincidence.” Clark stops the doctor, who is on his way in to talk to Mr. Hillbrand. After introducing himself and providing a brief overview of the situation, he asks, “Did you test to see if he was drugged?”

The doctor nods. “Rohypnol was found in his system. A lot of it. We’ve alerted the authorities, and they’ll want to speak with you.”

I don’t know what to feel first. I’m devastated this happened to one of my guests, who appears to be a nice man. White hot anger fills me when I realize not only did Heather drug this man and almost kill him, she did the same to Clark. Last comes fear as it occurs to me that Mr. Hillbrand could sue me into the ground, and I couldn’t even fault him for it.

If Heather returned to ruin my life, she may have just succeeded.

Clark and I spend hours at the hospital, talking with police and the Hillbrands. I’m holding back tears when I apologize to them, and they’re very kind, assuring me it’s not my fault, and that they appreciate me volunteering our security footage, and providing every bit of information about Heather that I can to the police. You can bet your ass I am. She’s lucky I’m not there where I can get my hands on her or I’d probably be joining her in the cell she’s destined for tonight.

The police need more evidence than just the word of Clark and Mr. Hillbrand when it comes to arresting her. We need proof she’s the one who dosed them both, or at least a motive. Nothing has been stolen from Mr. Hillbrand’s room and there’s no signs she did anything sexual to him. I’m not sure what she thought she was going to get out of it.

“The drug may have hit him too quickly and she panicked,” one of the officers informs me. “Or someone interrupted whatever plan she had. I’ve seen it before.”

I’ve alerted my staff not to say anything to Heather and put out the story that Mr. Hillbrand had a heart attack, so she won’t get spooked and run. Clark contacts Herb, who emails a video of surveillance footage. It’s only about ten minutes of video, but it’s more than enough.

Nausea washes over me as I watch Heather smile and laugh with Mr. Hillbrand while she’s making his drink, then dump something in it. Within minutes, he’s barely upright, and she glances around to make sure no one can see. Another guest enters the bar and takes a seat, preventing her from following the staggering man she just drugged up to his room.

Clark and Harriet were right. I never should’ve let her anywhere near Foxhaven, my employees, or me. Excusing myself, I duck into an empty waiting room and let the tears fall that I can’t hold back anymore. Clark steps in a minute later and sits beside me.

“I’m so sorry.”

His large arm stretches across my shoulders. “You didn’t do this, Kinley.”

“You tried to warn me. So did Harriet. I should’ve listened. She almost killed an innocent man.” Another horrific thought occurs to me. “She could’ve killed you.”

“Psh, a little date rape drug can’t take me down,” he jokes. “Although I do feel a little better knowing drunk Clark isn’t as stupid as I feared. I couldn’t imagine any bit of me would get with her, but from what the doctor explained, it makes you very susceptible to suggestion. Most people just follow directions.”

“She sexually assaulted you. You should press charges.”

He sighs and props his ankle on his knee. “I can’t prove the sex, but if they want my cooperation to charge her with drugging me, I’ll do that.”

“She’s out on parole. I hope that bitch goes back for a long time.”

He gets to his feet. “Come on. They’re releasing Mr. Hillbrand, and he plans to go back to Foxhaven. The cops are heading that way too.”

We step out into the hallway, and I stop at the desk to speak to the receptionist. “I’ll be paying the bill for Mr. Hillbrand. If you can please list me as the responsible party and have the bill sent to my address.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

After that’s all taken care of, Clark drives us back to Foxhaven. Police are already there, and my staff know to help them in whatever way possible. Officers have been dispatched to arrest Heather at her halfway house, and security has been warned she’s never allowed on the property.

I end up sitting in the bar with Kate while Clark assists the officers in the security room. There’s nothing I can do now but get in their way, so I resist the urge to follow them around.

A couple of hours later, the Hillbrands enter, and I hurry over to them. “I’ve moved you to the next suite since the police are investigating in yours.” I don’t know what they expect to find in there, but they won’t release the room. Mr. Hillbrand smiles and takes the keycard I offer. “I know sorry doesn’t cut it in this situation, but I am so sorry this happened to you. I’m careful who I hire here, but she—”

“Was your mother,” he interrupts. “I understand. Clark explained the situation. You gave her a chance. Please don’t blame yourself. I’ve stayed at Foxhaven a couple of times per year for the last few years, and I’ll be back again.”

A knot rises in my throat. “Thank you. Everything is comped for your stay, of course. And future stays as well.”

“Now, child, that’s no way to run a business,” he laughs, and his wife smiles at me. “Shit happened, but you did the right thing. You got me help, covered my medical bill, and apologized when most business owners would have lawyered up instantly. Nothing else is necessary. Now, I’m going to go sleep for about ten hours.”

“Thank you,” I choke out. Turning to his wife, I add. “If you’d like anything from room service, they’re still serving, and if you need to speak with me for any reason, the front desk can put you in touch.”

We exchange good night wishes, and they head upstairs. As soon as I sit back at the bar, Clark takes a seat beside me. His expression says the night isn’t over.

“What is it?”

“Herb and the officers have been reviewing the footage for the nights Heather was working alone. They have another victim. Mr. Lansdon.”

Mr. Lansdon has to be near sixty years old, and he’s incredibly wealthy. This just keeps getting worse. “She drugged him?”

Clark nods and grabs a bottle of bourbon, pouring us both a glass. “The footage shows her spiking his drink, escorting him back to his room, then leaving hours later. I had Tessa check the logs, and he cancelled his standing biannual reservation. Hasn’t been back here since.”

“He never reported anything.”

“Is he married?” Kate asks. “Maybe he didn’t want his wife to find out.”

“Possibly. A detective is contacting him.”

My whole body feels heavy. “Am I needed anymore tonight?”

“No, go home and rest. I’ll call if we need you. Cops already have everyone’s statement.”

Kate hugs me. “Things will work out, Kin. I’ll start looking to hire a new bartender tomorrow.”

Nodding, I slip on my coat and head home.

I need a distraction, especially because I found out this morning that Heather wasn’t at the halfway house. The police are looking for her, but so far they’ve had no luck. She’s in the wind.

Christmas is approaching, and I’ve been trying to think of something to get Holt. A man who can buy whatever he wants is damn hard to shop for. I want it to be something thoughtful, meaningful. He loves his guitar more than anything else he owns, and that gives me an idea. His story of how he got it is heartrending, but I know that little pawn shop he told me about was special to him. He named the guitar after it.

A quick search shows me Samilla Pawn is still in business and it’s only about an hour away from me. I don’t know exactly what I can get him, but something related to music that comes from there seems like a good idea. Guitar picks? A new strap for the one that’s frayed from always being slung over his shoulder? I’ll just have to see what they have.

Anavrin and I haven’t seen much of one another lately, and when I invite her to go along, she happily agrees. I knew she would. There’s nothing Anavrin likes more than shopping, and I’m sure we’ll end up at a ton of other places as well, but I need a day away. Plus, I have holiday shopping to do.

“Hey!” she calls out, hopping into my passenger seat. “You are still alive!”

“I could say the same to you,” I laugh. “How did you get a day off?”

“I moved an appointment until tomorrow. How are you doing? I mean, with your mom and stuff?”

I steer us onto the highway. “I’m okay. Cops are looking for her. And security at Foxhaven knows to keep her out.”

“So, what were you saying about this pawn shop?”

I don’t tell her the whole story that Holt told me because it’s not my place to tell it, but I explain that the pawn shop was where he got his favorite guitar and I want to get him another keepsake from there, ten years later.

“That’s a great idea! Then we can hit the mall. I could also use a manicure,” she says, looking at her nails. “What do you think?”

Smiling, I hand her my aux cord, so she can play music from her phone. “Sounds great. Girl’s day out.”

“Yes,” she squeals.

It feels good to hang out with my best friend again. We spend the drive laughing and talking, filling each other in on what we’ve been missing in one another’s lives. Anavrin is such a bubbly, happy person, it’s hard to stay in a bad mood when she’s around.

Samilla Pawn is located in a bright green building across from an abandoned hotel that looks ready to collapse. I can’t help but stare at it for a moment. That’s where Holt was living when he was a kid, where his mother abandoned him before she killed herself. My heart contracts with the thought of him calling that place home.

“Something wrong?” Anavrin asks.

“Nope, let’s go.”

A chime dings when we enter, and a man calls out a hello from the back of the store. It’s a nice, clean place with a wide assortment of random items. “Kin, look!” Anavrin calls out, pointing to a wall where there’s a poster of Marcus, mid scream at a concert. It’s the framed picture next to it that makes me gasp.

The man working behind the counter approaches and smiles at us. “No one ever believes me when I tell them Marcus Singleton got his first guitar from here. But that picture is proof.”

“Someone doesn’t follow the tabloids,” Anavrin sings under her breath.

“That’s not Marcus, it’s his twin brother, Holt,” I inform the man, reaching to touch the framed picture. In it, a teenage Holt sits on a stool with Samilla in his lap and smiles up at a woman. It must be his mother.

“Bullshit,” the guy scoffs. “I heard about the twin, but how do you know which one that is?”

I pull out my phone and find a picture of Holt sitting on my couch with Samilla propped by his leg. It’s the same guitar in the picture. “Holt told me about this place. He named his guitar Samilla. I came here to try to find him a Christmas gift, a keepsake from here. This place meant a lot to him when he was a child.”

“Well, I’ll be damned. All this time I thought he was Marcus. I couldn’t remember the kid’s name, just that he came to play almost every day until his Mama bought him the guitar. Never saw him again. I had no trouble believing it was Marcus, though. Kid was gifted. How is he doing now?”

“He’s doing good. He’s a musician and a songwriter. Thank you for being kind to him back then. It made a real difference.” I study the picture for a moment. “Do you think…is there any way I could get a copy of this? His mother passed not long after it was taken, and I’m sure it’d mean a lot to him.”

The man reaches up, removes the picture from the wall, and hands it to me. “It’s all yours.”

We spend a few minutes after that looking around the shop, but I know I’ll never find anything to top this. Finally, I buy a new strap for his guitar, thank the man, and we leave.

The rest of the shopping trip is a blur to me. We have a good time, but all I can think of is that photo. I hope he’ll love it, but there’s also the chance it’ll bring back memories he doesn’t want to revisit.