I stepped out from behind the counter and crossed to the front door, turned the lock, pulled the small paper shade down over the glass, and flipped the sign to CLOSED.
Saturday afternoon. I had never closed the shop on a Saturday afternoon in my life.
I walked back to the counter and stood there with my phone in my hand, thinking about who to call. My sisters would form a hunting party and kick his ass. My grandparents would be at the inn, working. Paige?—
Paige would react badly, but she would also react well. She would be furious on my behalf, and she would also know what to do next, because Paige always knew what to do next. Out of everyone I loved, she was the one who could be furious andpractical at the same time. That was what I needed. That was exactly it.
I called her.
She picked up on the second ring. “Hey.”
“Paige.” My voice came out wrong.
A short silence. “What. What’s happening? Are you okay?”
“Can you come to the shop. Right now.”
“I’m grabbing my keys.” No hesitation, no questions, just the sound of her already moving. “Ten minutes. Are you alone?”
“Yes.”
“Hurt?”
“No. He left.”
“Who left?”
“Eric.”
A sharp exhale. “Lock the front door right now.”
“I already did.”
“Of course you did. You’re the smart one. Rude of me to say it, but true all the same.” The sound of a car door. “Ten minutes. Don’t open it for anyone but me.” She hung up.
I set the phone face down on the counter. I walked to the back of the shop and sat in my armchair in the reading nook with my hands in my lap. I did not cry. I felt hollowed out, waiting for my sister to come fill me back in.
Paige arrived in nine minutes.
I heard her car in the alley, her boots on the sidewalk, and the sharp knock at the front door. I got up and let her in. She came through fast, grabbed both my hands, then dropped them to put hers on my face, tipping it up like she was checking me for damage.
“Let me see you.” Her eyes moved over my face, quick and thorough, the same look she had been giving me since I was seven and had fallen out of the oak tree in the backyard. “Okay. You’ve got color.” She dropped her hands but did not step back.“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck. You are fully freaking out.”
“Uh, thanks.”
“I’m being supportive.” She held up one finger. “Getting the lay of the land. I have to know where to start, don’t I?” She was already looking past me into the shop, clocking the closed sign, the pulled shade, cataloging the situation with the same brisk efficiency she brought to a Saturday night bar fight.
“You’re being a menace.” I felt myself relax as I said it. “But I knew you would. I want you to go full menace. Maybe do a little plotting with me. Perhaps plan a murder or something. I don’t know what to do.”
Paige’s expression shifted into something that was almost a smile but was really more of a war face. She put both hands on my shoulders. “I can do all of it.” A small squeeze. “I contain multitudes?—”
“Aww, you quoted Whitman?—”
“Duh.” She dropped her hands and pointed at me. “This is exactly why you chose me to call.” She was already moving past me into the shop, pulling off her jacket, looking around for somewhere to put it, settling on draping it over the nearest shelf with the confidence of a woman who owned whatever room she walked into. “Come on. Where are we sitting?”
I locked the door back up and threw the deadbolt, and we walked back through the shop to the reading nook and sat across from each other in the two armchairs with the small wooden side table between us. She sat forward with her elbows on her knees, her hands loosely clasped, and looked at me like she was going to keep staring me down until I talked.
“Tell me what happened. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”
