Page 15 of Her Favorite Fumble
“Can you find out where these people live?” he demanded, looking up at Theo.
“Whoa.” His brother snatched the phone back. “No, I can’t. And even if I could, I definitely wouldn’t tell you because if you go to prison, we all have to work harder and that would suck.”
If he did go off on a Lucy Macauley revenge tour, his first stop would be the house with the two guest bedrooms where Iris was living with some guy. Throwing Lucy out to face these wolves was unforgivable, in his book.
“I skimmed through Lucy’s accounts, and there were two women she was clearly good friends with,” Theo continued. “One of them went viral with videos talking about Lucy while also mentioning some ugly jewelry the woman made. Her otherfrienddid the podcast and interview rounds with titles like ‘Lucy Macauley’s best friend tells all’ and the like.”
“She had nobody.” Nick glared at the phone in Theo’s hand, trying to get his temper under control. “All that hate and abuse coming at her for something amandid, and not a single person had her back.”
“That sucks. And look, it’s pretty unlikely any of these keyboard warriors actually come looking for her, but I wanted you to know what’s out there.”
“Thanks.”
He finished his sandwich so they could get back to work, but all afternoon, his mind was on Lucy and the toxic ugliness he’d seen directed at her. And that was just a small sampling.
No wonder she’d pulled a hood over her remarkable hair and hidden part of her face with the sunglasses.
But she was here now, and he barely listened to Gray drone on about the logistics of the number of outlets the homeowner wanted. As a rule, Nick hated gossip, but with a few well-targeted comments, he could get the word out that Wayward Harbor needed to rally around Helen Griffin’s granddaughter.
He’d do it for Lucy.
* * *
With Nick at work for the day, Lucy decided it was a good time to sort through the mess she’d made of her grandmother’s living room.
While packing up her belongings in Las Vegas, she’d tried to be deliberate about grouping things in boxes and bags, but the more upset she’d gotten, the more she’d just tossed things in wherever they fit. And when she’d loaded everything into her car, she’d been struck by how little she appeared to own.
But piled up in Gran’s living room, it looked like a lot. Most of the clothes she repackaged to return to her car. She wasn’t going to need little black dresses or strappy heels here. Those would wait until she reached Miami.
The box of her important documents she’d keep inside because she didn’t think Wayward Harbor was a hub of crime, but it wasn’t smart to keep them in the car. To that box, she added the notebook in which she’d scribbled all kinds of random information. Half of the papers, old receipts and torn envelopes shoved between the pages had passwords written on them. Someday she’d make a better system, but for now it worked.
Lucy also dug her small sketchbook out of the bottom of a bag and added it to the box. It was where she brainstormed fun cocktail ideas—whether the liquors or fun add-ons, like glitter or rim sugars. While she was most creative with pen and paper, she always took photos of the pages and uploaded them to a digital notebook.
She condensed the towels and sheets in the bathroom’s linen closet and took the resulting empty shelf for herself. Her core wardrobe—jeans, leggings and simple tops—fit on the shelf, along with a lingerie bag she filled with underthings. Other items, like her cardigans and pajamas, could stay in a duffel, but she didn’t want to dress in bag-rumpled clothes every day.
Once she’d pulled what she needed for daily life, she was down to a duffel bag, two boxes and her tote in the living room. The rest she was able to pack back into her trunk.
It felt good to have that done, but there was one more thing she had to do before she could fully relax, and that was call her mother. Maybe Iris Macauley wasn’t the most maternal of figures, but Lucy hadn’t told her where she was going. For all Iris knew, her daughter was staying with a friend in Las Vegas.
And whether she deserved it or not, Lucy didn’t feel right about her mother not knowing she’d actually driven to the opposite coast.
It was late enough in the afternoon that the time difference wouldn’t be an issue, so she went out to the front porch. For some reason she didn’t want to beinGran’s cottage while she talked to Iris—as if her mother’s toxic energy could infect the place through the phone. After wrapping herself in blankets because the wind never let up here, she sat down and dialed.
Iris answered on the third ring. “Hi, Lucy. I only have a few minutes because I’m on my way out. What’s up?”
No asking where her daughter was. Or if she was okay. Definitely no apologies for doing nothing while her boyfriend threw her out. Typical Iris.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m in Maine.”
“Maine? What are you doing in Maine?”
“I’m visiting Gran.” The ensuing silence stretched on for so long, Lucy pulled the phone away from her ear to see if the call timer was still running. “Mom?”
“You’re visiting my mother? Why?”
Because my life blew up and you chose your boyfriend over me, so I had nowhere else to go.“I wanted to get away.”
“How is Mom?”
