Page 94 of Business Casual
“Charles!”
I stop halfway down the street and walk backward until I can peer around the corner toward Ink & Wild, Nessa hanging over the railing with a stack of papers shoved under her arm. It’s not the Porter sibling I was hoping for, and I try not to let my disappointment show.
Have I been milling about downtown Inglewild for the better part of an hour hoping to see Nova? Maybe. I checked in with Mabel on floral arrangements for the harvest festival just so I had an alibi in case anyone bothered to ask, but I have no excuse for the aimless wandering I’ve been doing since then. I got a coffee from Ms. Beatrice’s. I talked to Matty about his pasta sauce. I did three laps around the fountain in the town square. I fed some ducks.
I have things I should be doing, but I’m crossing the street toward Ink & Wild trying not to look through the windows like an asshole for a peek of blond hair and a sarcastic smile. I wave to Vanessa, but she’s too busy trying to lock the door with a mountain of crap in her arms.
I pluck a stack of files out of her grip, and she blows out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I glance at the papers and then at the top of Nessa’s head. “Did I catch you breaking and entering?”
“Would I shout your name across the street if I was?”
“You know, Ness, you probably would.” Of all the Porter siblings, she’s the true wild card. The last time someone was stupid enough to leave us alone at a party together, we almost burned the entire place to the ground.
Coincidentally, we have not been invited back to the bingo hall.
She grins at me and pushes some hair out of her face. “You flatter me, Chuck. I need you to take those to Nova.” She finishes locking up the door and tucks the keys in my breast pocket. “She asked that I stop by and grab them, but I’ve got somewhere I need to be.”
I frown. “Why did she request files she can get herself?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where do you have to be?”
“None of your business.”
Nessa pulls out another file she wedged into the top of her bag and shoves it in my hand. The top part is bent back. “Just do as you’re told, Charlie.” She pats me on the shoulder as she rushes past me, hip-checking me into the railing. “Oops, sorry!” she calls, hand raised above her head. “I’ll owe you one!”
She’s gone before I can so much as say,You’re welcome, rushing around the corner of the studio with her gargantuan bag slipping off one shoulder. As I’m frowning at the place she used to be, I swear something moves in the window of the duckpin bowling alley. I study the empty window, the blinds rocking gently back and forth.
“Fucking phone tree,” I mutter to myself. Everyone keeps playing dumb, but I know there’s something going on. I haven’t heard anything in weeks.
I’ve done enough meddling to know when I’m being meddled with. But joke’s on the phone tree, or Nessa, or whoever orchestrated this particular scenario, because I want to see Nova. They could not have picked a more willing participant.
I make my way over to her house and hop up the front steps. I want some of the chocolate-covered peanut butter pretzels she’s started to keep at the top of her pantry. She keeps telling me they’re on salewhen she goes to the grocery store, but I’ve been to the grocery store, and they have never once been on sale. She buys them for me, and it’s adorable that she feels the need to lie about it.
I knock on the door. No one answers. I knock again.
“Nova,” I call. “I’ve got the files you asked for.”
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I frown when I see her name.
NOVA:plch
That’s it. Nothing else. I wait for a second to see if another message comes through, but it doesn’t.
I entertain her preferred method of communication, even though I can see her boots stacked by the door and her keys on the table by the window. I know she’s in there somewhere.
CHARLIE:What?
Her response is slow coming, the three dots at the bottom of my phone an exercise in patience I have never once possessed.
NOVA:Leve them onnnnn pfch.
CHARLIE:Are you drunk?
I rap my knuckles against the door again, harder this time. My phone stays silent and so does the house. Unease tugs at my shoulders and I stare at the tiny pot of lavender on the corner of the porch. The likelihood of Nova actually listening to me and moving the key after Beckett used it is slim to none. I tip up the planter with my foot and sigh at the glint of silver metal.
