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Daisy
It quickly becomesapparent that Tom is going to work as long as I do, and it’s supposed to be his day off. So I declare the job “done for now,” and also declare that I am in desperate need of a shower. Tom takes the hint and says he’ll pop by tomorrow morning with the bike.
I suspect “and to see if you need any help” is the unspoken addendum. I’m not sure what exactly Tom is getting out of this. Companionship is a good excuse for hanging out with a person, but not for spending nearly four hours clearing a bramble-infested yard that allegedly doesn’t belong to either of us.
There’d been a moment yesterday when I thought he might be interested in a whole other kind of companionship. But in our hours of work today, he never so much as touched my arm. He’d joked with Celeste about the list of repairs he wanted me to do at his place, but when I asked today, he had nothing.
Should I be suspicious? My brain says yes. It reminds me that I’m basing my trust on a few summers of childhood friendship. A boy who is long gone. A man who doesn’t know that I’m that girl and therefore has no responsibility to honor the past by treating me fairly.
What else would Tom want?
Clearly, he’s after my grandfather’s treasure. I smile at the thought. There is no treasure. It’s a local legend that no one actually believes.
I have no idea what Tom’s up to. My ego would love to think he just wants to spend more time with me. I’m not Celeste, though. If guys want my attention, they offer me a beer and a lift in their pickup. Well, come to think of it, Tom has offered both, but I suspect that has more to do with who he is than what he wants.
I can’t let my fondness for Tom blind me. I’ll remain aware that he may have an ulterior motive. Beyond that, I’ll enjoy his help and his company.
When I go inside, Celeste’s in her office with the door shut. I don’t try sneaking into the attic. Too risky. I’ll make good on my shower excuse—I do need one. I pop into my bedroom for a change of clothing, and I’m collecting it when there’s a muffled beep-beep from under the bed.
I pause, trying to identify the sound. It’s familiar enough that I know I should recognize it right away, but when I don’t, it dances at the edge of memory like a word on the tip of my tongue.
I look under the bed and spot a dim glow, but when I shift myself to reach farther, it goes dark.
I grab my flashlight and shine it under the bed. There are thin blankets for winter. Extra pillows, too, and I tug one out and immediately regret it as the stink of mildew envelopes me.
I keep shining my light until it catches a small box. I reach under, steeling myself against whatever filthy thing I might touch. Good thing I haven’t had that shower yet.
My fingers close around something cool. I pull out...
A cell phone?
An iPhone, no less, and when I lift it, it tries to read my face. I roll from under the bed and peer at the screensaver photo of a sunset. I go to press the Home button, but there isn’t one. I’ve seen people swipe these, so I try that, and the lock screen fills with notifications.
Missed calls from Celeste. That’s what the beep was—a reminder of calls missed, the light coming on for a few seconds.
Why is Liam’s phone under my bed?
Was he in here last night? Did the phone fall from his pocket before he came out to ambush me?
The phone lights up with an incoming call, and instinct has me slapping my hands over it to muffle the ring. The moment I realize what I’m doing, I wonder why, but that doesn’t stop me from hitting Ignore fast, my heart rate slowing as the musical ringtone stops.
Footsteps sound in the hallway.
I dive for the bed and shove the phone between the mattress and box spring. Then I yank it out and switch it to silent mode before I shove it back in.
“Daisy?” Celeste calls.
I find my poker face and open the door with, “Hey.”
“Did you hear something just now?”
“Like what?”
“Music.”
I frown and push open my door as I turn to glance at the front-facing window. “I’ve heard music from passing cars. They like it loud around here.”
“It wasn’t...” She beetles her brows as she frowns, as if uncertain. Then she blurts, “It sounded like Liam’s ringtone.”
