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I tap Brody on the shoulder to get his attention.
“I have to go find her,” I say and detach from the cluster of my lawyer, Adrianne’s lawyer, and Adrianne.
Adrianne is hyperventilating with anger. Even after returning to the parking lot, I swear I can hear her.
I call Brynne. It goes to voicemail. “Hi, baby,” I say. “I hope you pick up. I am heading down to the inn. I wanted to tell you this in person, but I hate the thought of you being sad any longer than you have to, so here it is. The inn is yours to do what you want. I’ll explain when I see you.”
Todd called me as soon as I ended the message.
“She’s served,” he reports. “I waited for her to leave the courthouse and nabbed her.”
“Now I need to find Brynne and tell her the news,” I say. “I’m making Nick drive the limo like it’s the Porsche.”
“She left in an Uber as I set up outside,” he says. “She got picked up at the side of the building. She’ll be at the inn for sure. Good luck.”
Todd hangs up.I need to reach her.
“I don’t think I’ve been so impatient in my life,” I confess to Nick. “Longest ride of my life.”
“I don’t think this vehicle is built for speed,” Nick apologizes.
“Take it easy,” I say. “It’s fine. I’ll get there when I get there.”
I called her phone again. I texted her. At long last, Nick is taking the exit onto the access road and the driveway that winds down to the inn’s entrance.
“Take off,” I say. “Happy paid Friday off.”
“Shouldn’t we see if she’s here?” Nick asks.
“No,” I say. “I’ll wait for her, either way.”
I dance up the steps to the wraparound porch. I try the door. It’s locked.That’s unusual. I feel the door jamb for a key and find one. I fit it to the doorknob. It doesn’t work. I stroll around the porch to the front and begin methodically, lifting sashes and trying the sliders. I peered over the edge of the railing down tothe cove where Brynne said she practiced her yoga.No sign of her.
I feel around doors and windows and lift pots. Finally, I found a second set of keys. I try them on a backdoor, and miraculously, the door unlocks. I walk into the kitchen.
“Nice,” I say to myself. I call out at the top of my lungs. “Brynne?”
I pace around slowly, just absorbing the place. I sense her here. I wander to the dining room and sit behind the piano. I play one of my favorite ancient tunes from an old dance movie. I actually sing it.Where or When.
It seems we stood and talked like this before
We looked at each other in the same way then
But I can't remember where or when
The clothes you're wearing are the clothes you wore
The smile you are smiling, you were smiling then
But I can't remember where or when…
Like a cat to a lure, someone descends the winding staircase. I might be more impatient to see her face at the dining room entrance than ever before. I work the feelings into the song.
Hurry up, I have some good news for you.
And I hope it’s Brynne, I am hearing, not a murderer who…
She is there, leaning casually against the entrance, arms folded, ankles crossed. She throws her head back with a hearty laugh, smiling from ear to ear. She must have changed her clothes from court. She wears a T-shirt and her fabulous cut-offs.
