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“Better than I was. I think part of me is just energized by not having to spend every morning with my head in the toilet.”
“You’re on the up and up! I’m happy to hear it,” she pats my shoulder. “I have to go lead the adult computer class but come see me if you get bored up here.”
“Bored with local history? I could never!”
“Nerd,” Cora teases.
“You’re the one who’s about to teach a bunch of old people how to log into their email!” I call as she walks out the door. Cora shakes her head.
Later that night, Joseph enters the library carrying a plastic bag. “I got you Chinese food. You still like the sesame chicken, right?”
“It’s my favorite! You’re the best.” I slipped out from behind my desk and made a beeline for Joseph, wrapping my arms around his neck. We kissed briefly before I grabbed the bag from his hands.
“Is there anyone you can get to watch the desk while you eat?” Joseph asks.
“I don’t need to. We don’t have any appointments for tonight.” The third floor was appointment-only, meaning it was usually dead during weeknights.
“As long as you don’t spill a quart of wonton soup everywhere, we’ll be fine,” I say.
I set the bag on a nearby table, and Joseph picks at the tight knot, attempting to untie it.
“Shit, do you have scissors or something?”
“Yeah, one second,” I walk back to the desk. Of course, Cora stole our good scissors. I open the desk drawer to find a spare pair when my hand brushes something soft and leathery. I almost gasp as I open the drawer further:
It’s Beatrix’s diary.
“What’s wrong?” Joseph asks, “Is something dead in there?”
“No, it’s nothing. Nothing at all,” I grab the extra pair of scissors and slam the drawer shut.
Chapter 14
Joseph
“Gentlemen,asalways,it’sa pleasure doing business with you!” I declare as I close my laptop.
It’s Friday afternoon, and our latest App, which collaborates with various e-commerce entities to find coupons and deals, is finally off the ground. The Beta version launched seamlessly with glowing reviews from every focus group.
Truthfully, I could use a win. I’ve been sleeping less than two hours every night, plagued by detailed nightmares about Idylewylde Hall’s least favorite guest that either end with me waking up in a cold sweat or with the ocean lapping at my feet. My grip on reality is loosening. This App is the only thing that’s made sense, so I’ve gone after every partner meeting this week with a gusto that I haven’t felt since my twenties.
Although, this week, I’ve barely seen Eleanor. She’s buried herself in a fortress of boxes, working late and jumping whenever I ask her how work’s going. She’s determined to prove that Beatrix’s suicide was a cover-up. We have another appointment at the O.B. next week, but I miss her, and I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.
“You’re being paranoid,” I mumble as I walk downstairs. My arm aches as a reminder of what happens when I let my paranoia get the best of me. I’m still going to physical therapy once a week, but now that it’s getting colder, I’ve discovered that my arm has a permanent ache. I try to flex my fingers; my physical therapist says keeping them moving is important.
“Hey, Iphigenia? Do you know where— oh.” Eleanor pauses mid-sentence when she sees me in the hallway.
“Are you looking for something?” I ask. It’s the first full sentence I’ve said to Eleanor all week.
“Yeah, my yellow legal pad; I think I left it in the library,” Eleanor says.
“Well, let’s check, and fancy getting a fire going? I’ve missed you,” I murmur. I grab her hips and pull her close, capturing her lips. Our tongues dance, and she groans, tilting her pelvis toward me. She blushes when her growing bump gets in the way. I cradle her swelling stomach.
“A fire sounds great, actually,” she replies when we finally part.
Upstairs, we search the library high and low for Eleanor’s legal pad, which is shoved behind a stack of atlases and a potted plant. It’s now wrinkling from water damage and covered with a layer of soil.
“I wasn’t even near the atlases last night!” She huffs.
