I THINK EVERYONE ON THE planet is familiar with the concept that news travels fast, bad news travels faster. Knowing it and living it are two completely different animals though. I’d experienced this plenty of times growing up in a small town. My mother was made aware of any transgression Milo and I committed long before we arrived home from school or anywhere else we might’ve caused mischief. That was before email and text messages were a thing, so you can imagine how much quicker gossip spread with modern technology. I was amazed that it took my mother until one o’clock to show up at Curious Things. She either found out about the phone call late or was biding her time. Either way, she was the first person through the door when I flipped the sign over to show that I was open for business.
“I’m surprised you’re opening the shop today,” she said, squeezing me tight enough to cut off my air supply. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I wheezed.
Mom pulled back and looked at me then, grinning sheepishly. She looked like she had aged ten years overnight and that broke my heart. “What did he say to you on the phone?”
“Mom, I can’t discuss it with anyone.” Elijah hadn’t said as much, but it seemed obvious to me that I needed to keep quiet about the call.
“I’m not just anyone, Maegan Miracle. I am your mother.”
“Okay, but you have to look me in the eye and promise me that you won’t speak to anyone about this.”
“Of course,” she replied, crossing her heart with her index finger.
“I won’t repeat the specific words used, but the caller expressed that I had nothing to worry about. I guess they wanted me to know that his or her issue was with Thom, not me.”
“Why did you say ‘his or her’?” Mom asked.
“They used a voice distorter so I couldn’t tell the gender of the caller.” I didn’t share my theories with her though. I knew I could trust her to keep my confidence, but I didn’t want to betray Elijah or undermine his investigation.
“Why involve you then? What was the point of putting evidence at your place of business and home?”
I shrugged. There was no way I was going to tell her that the killer claimed to have saved me. “Maybe they were aware of my relationship with the lead detective?”
“So you’re admitting there is a relationship between the two of you?” she asked.
“There’s something going on between us, but I’m not sure what I’d label it.”
“So don’t. Labels are for clothes.” She reached over and smoothed her hand over my wayward curls. “Just be happy, Maegan. That’s all I want for you and Milo.”
“I was happy before Elijah moved to town, Mom.”
“You were content, my love, and that’s not the same thing.”
I couldn’t argue with her because she was right. Well, I could have, but it would’ve been a waste of energy that I could expend in happier ways. “I can’t believe my shop isn’t overflowing with curious customers,” I said, changing the subject.
“They’ve already been to the coffee shop this morning,” she replied wryly. “They were practically lined up down the block when I attempted to see you earlier.”
“You could’ve used the employee entrance in the back. You have a key,” I reminded her.
“I could see that you were okay and that was enough to tide me over until I could give you a proper hug.”
“Or squeeze the air out of my lungs,” I teased. “I’m good, Mom.” I looked over her shoulder and saw a tall brunette approach the door. I couldn’t contain the soft growl that rumbled out of my chest.
My mother turned to see what had upset me. “Oh, that bitch,” she said sassily right before the door opened. My mom positioned herself by my side and together we faced what was surely to be some kind of dig or insult.
“Oh my, Maegan,” Amanda said breathlessly, batting her eyelashes and covering her mouth with a trembling hand. I noticed that the diamond engagement ring she supposedly threw at Clayton was back on her left hand. “I just had to make sure you were okay. I just heard about your troubles.”
“My troubles?” I looked down at my whole, healthy body and around my pristine shop that was a huge source of pride for me. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Amanda took a few steps closer to me, eyeing my mom warily like a person would a Rottweiler on guard. I couldn’t blame my mom’s protectiveness since this woman—and I used the word loosely—was the bane of my high school existence. She was downright evil before I had cancer because she saw me as competition. I missed most of my junior year while battling leukemia, but stayed on target to graduate with a private tutor. I was so self-conscious about my hair on my first day of school my senior year because the regrowth was little more than a buzz cut. I had hated wearing a wig. It didn’t feel like me, and it seemed like people stared at me anyway when I wore it, so why not be comfortable? I put on my makeup and wore my favorite new outfit, determined to have a good day no matter what. I was a warrior who beat cancer dammit. Rawr!
My positive mood had lasted only until Amanda Jacobsen spotted me in the hallway and called me GI Jane loud enough for everyone around us to hear. Amanda’s eyes glittered in delight when her comment garnered laughter from her little circle of followers, but I noticed the merriment didn’t reach some of their eyes. They were nothing more than little bleating sheep who didn’t think or act for themselves. I was determined not to let her see that her arrow had struck its target though.
“My mom said that you’ll never be able to have kids. That sucks that you won’t ever hold your own little miracle in your arms.” She giggled over her witty play on words. “No man wants a wife who can’t provide him children. Poor Maegan.” That’s what she started calling me, and it grated on my nerves far worse than GI Jane.
Yes, her sexist implication that women were only good for bringing children into the world sounded like something you’d expect to hear in the fifties, but it sliced me to the bone. I had overcome many hurdles the previous year, but I still hadn’t come to terms with knowing that chemotherapy had saved my life while taking away my chance to give it. I had always wanted a large family and it would never happen. Everything else seemed very small in comparison.
“Well, look who it is. The Wicked Bitch of Blissville High,” Milo had said when he walked up on the scene. “Take your flying twats and be gone before I borrow a bucket from the janitor and douse you with water.”
“My, aren’t we brave this year?” Amanda had asked. “You do know that my boyfriend is a football player and can crush you, right?”
“Yes, but I also know that my boyfriend is the captain of the football team and could snap your boyfriend like a twig. I don’t think you want to get into a pissing contest with me. Get going.” Milo had made witch cackling noises when Amanda turned and strode away in a huff.
“There’s a crazed killer that seems intent on killing you,” Amanda said, pulling me back to the present. “I’d call that trouble.”
“Oh, that,” I said, playing dumb. “It’s nothing for you to worry your pretty head over. Thanks for checking on me though.” I wanted her out of my store as fast as possible.
“Well, I admit to having ulterior reasons for stopping by.” Amanda’s face flushed prettily and she tilted her head down to look at the ground, but I could still see a wicked smile spread across her lips. When she raised her eyes to meet mine again they glittered with evil intent. She placed her hand over her stomach, splaying her fingers to cover as much area as she could. My heart sank when I realized what she was about to say. “I’m expecting,” Amanda said excitedly. “Not many people know it, but Clayton and I are so excited about our little bundle of joy that’s due to arrive later this year.”
“That explains the sudden weight gain,” my mom said. She placed her hand at the small of my back to remind me that she’d always have it through any battle.
“Mom,” I said in a warning. As vapid and vain as Amanda was, I didn’t want her starving herself and harming the baby because of something my mom said. We were better than her. “You look beautiful, Amanda. Congratulations to both you and Clayton.”
Amanda had sneered at my mother’s barb but flinched at my kindness. Had I found the way to beat her after all? “Thank you,” she said cautiously. “Well, Clayton said an ordinary nursery wouldn’t do for his baby, so I’m hoping you can help me find the perfect pieces. I want the room to be elegant, classy, and timeless.”
“A child’s nursery?” my mom asked. “Honey, there’s nothing elegant or classy about changing shitty diapers, so it’s best you prepare yourself for that now. You’ve come to the right place though. Maegan has the absolute best taste and can find almost anything your heart desires. She’s also mature enough not to let the heinous way you treated her in high school interfere with conducting a business transaction. Right, Maegan?”
There was a not-so-gentle dig at Amanda and reminder that my business was more important than Amanda’s shenanigans. She was right. I wouldn’t allow Amanda to go around town telling people that I refused to help her. It would give my business a bad reputation and more ammunition for Amanda to use on me later. I’d be damned if I played another one of her games.
“Absolutely,” I said to my mom before I kissed her on the cheek. “I love you.”
“Call me later if you can tear yourself away from your man. Good luck, Amanda,” my mother said dramatically.
“What did you have in mind for the nursery, Amanda? Did you have a theme or pattern in mind?”
“Uh….” It was obvious she expected me to refuse her.
“You don’t want antique baby furniture because it doesn’t typically meet today’s safety standards and it lacks certain convenient features such as sides that lower or cribs that can convert to beds.”
“Um…”
“However, there are manufacturers that specialize in making modern furniture that resembles vintage pieces. Beautiful stuff. I can help supplement whatever design you choose with lamps and decorative pieces. Oh! I found the most amazing collection of porcelain Beatrice Potter figurines, but I think I’m going to save those for my own nursery someday.” Amanda looked at me like I had lost my mind, and before she could comment, I said, “There is more than one way to become a mother, Amanda. Surely you know this.”
“Sure,” she said, nodding her head.
Of course, I always knew that adopting kids was an option. I just didn’t think I’d find a guy who could get past it. I had this idea in my head that men only wanted kids that carried their DNA. How misguided was that? It wasn’t that Elijah told me something I didn’t know, but hearing it from him made me want to heal that wound and live my life to the fullest. I didn’t have to give up on being a mom, I just had to do it another way. I didn’t have to wait for a guy to come around and approve my plan either.
“I’m going to adopt a houseful of rowdy kids.” Visions of kids running through the house or back yard with barking dogs chasing them made me smile. Then I realized the house and yard wasn’t my current residence, but it felt like home regardless. I didn’t think I’d been inside the house with wide plank wooden floors, so why did it feel familiar. Then I realized that I had indeed recently seen those floors with my very own eyes. Huh, I didn’t see that one coming.
“Do you smell something burning?” Milo asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Smells like sulfur.” He sneered at Amanda. “I thought I saw your broom parked outside.”
“Hello, Milo,” she said.
“Should I grab a bucket of water?” he mock-whispered.
“Nah,” I told him. “I’m helping Amanda pick out furniture and decorations for…” I wasn’t sure she wanted people to know about her condition.
“Clayton and I are expecting a baby,” Amanda told him. “Maegan is giving me some guidance.”
“She is?” Milo asked.
“I am.”
“You’re a better person than I am,” Milo said. “I still want to douse her with water for the way she treated you.”
Amanda sucked on her teeth as she contemplated his words while she studied me. “She’s a better person than me too. I’d have blasted me with both barrels.”
“Too messy,” I told her. “I’ve had enough drama this week. So, back to my original question. Do you have a color theme in mind?”
“We’re waiting to find out the sex of the baby before we finalize the nursery, but I like your idea of choosing modern furniture that looks vintage and I love that chair.” She pointed over to a Victorian style chair upholstered in beige striped silk fabric. It was one of my favorite pieces too. “And the matching ottoman.” She walked over to the ottoman and ran her finger over the lid of the china teapot that sat on the sterling silver tray. “You’ve displayed it so beautifully that I want to buy the tea set and tray and I don’t drink tea.”
“Your mother does,” Milo said from behind me. “Isn’t her birthday coming up?” How Milo remembered all this stuff was beyond me.
“A few weeks,” Amanda confirmed. “I’ll take the chair, ottoman, the silver tray, and tea set.”
“Step over to the register and we’ll write it up and schedule a delivery date. Would you like to take your mother’s gift home with you today?”
“Would the chair and ottoman fit in the back of my sport utility broom?” Amanda asked, winking at Milo.
“It fit in the back of my SUV, but I have a full-sized one for hauling big things,” I told her. Amanda pulled her keychain out of her coat pocket. I took the keys from her and held them out for my brother. “Milo, will you kindly look to see if these items will fit?”
I don’t know why I was suddenly so willing to put my turbulent past with Amanda in my rearview mirror, but it felt like the right thing to do. Milo wasn’t there yet, but he accepted the keys and went outside anyway.
Amanda continued to walk around the store and comment on pieces that stood out to her, but swore she wasn’t going to buy another thing until she knew if she was having a boy or girl. I wrote down some websites for her to look at for furniture while we waited for Milo to come back in. I needed to know if I had to tack on a delivery charge if they wouldn’t fit in her SUV.
“What’s taking him so long?” I asked out loud. “He better not be slashing your tires.”
“I deserve worse,” she said wryly.
“I won’t disagree with you, but…” My words died in my throat when I saw what held him up. I smiled when Elijah looked up and met my eyes through the glass door. I opened it to let him and Milo in.
“Hi, Freckles,” Elijah said affectionately.
“Hi there.”
“I waved down some muscle when I saw that the chair and ottoman will fit in the back of her Sport Utility Broom. I may not like the Wicked Bitch of Blissville, but I have nothing against an innocent baby.”
Elijah raised a brow at Milo’s comment, but didn’t remark on it. “Where’s the chair and ottoman?”
“Uh….” Amanda stared dumbfounded at Elijah.
“Over there,” I said, pointing. He dropped a kiss on my lips as he passed me. “Let me box up the silver and china for her while you guys carry out the furniture.”
“Who’s that?” Amanda said when we were alone again.
“His name is Elijah,” I said, never taking my eyes off my task of wrapping the teapot and teacups with bubble wrap.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Amanda asked. I glanced up expecting to see disbelief in her expression, but I only saw curiosity.
“Um….” I wasn’t sure how to answer that. First of all, I didn’t know what was going on between Elijah and me, and second, Amanda wasn’t someone I felt comfortable confiding in.
“Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
Milo and Elijah returned before I could respond. Milo handed Amanda’s keys to her and nodded his head to the door in a not-so-subtle way. Amanda grinned and reached for the box holding her silver tray and tea set. Milo grabbed it before she could and headed toward the door.
“Take care, Maegan,” Amanda said over her shoulder as she followed Milo.
“You know what it’s like when you turn on a movie toward the end and you try to figure out what the hell is going on?” Elijah asked me.
“Yeah.”
“That’s how this feels right now. I can sense the roles you’ve all played, but not what led you to this big finale moment.” He traced his finger along my jawline before he lowered his hand.
“I’ll tell you everything you want to know,” I told him.
“How about you tell me over dinner tonight? I was thinking I would make you my famous homemade pizza.”
“Famous?”
“Not really,” he answered ruefully. “It’s not all that homemade either, but it is good. How does it sound?”
“Sounds perfect.”
“What do you like on your pizza?” he asked.
“Surprise me,” I replied. “I don’t have any food allergies.”
“It’s great that I won’t kill you, but I can go a step further and create something you’d actually want to eat.”
“No anchovies,” I told him.
“Be there at six, Freckles.” He looked at me once he reached the door. “Don’t bother bringing a nightgown. I like it when you sleep naked.”
My focus and desire to stay at work disappeared in a poof after that. Luckily, the curious residents started pouring in after church to make the time go by faster.