Lizzie took the stool next to Kate. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Finally?”
“My brother mentioned you the other night at dinner.”
“Really?” Kate had tried to sound cool. She wasn’t so sure she’d pulled it off.
“Yeah, in a Matt sort of way. Not with a whole lot of detail.”
“Oh.” Kate glanced at Matt. Though he was pouring a pitcher of beer, she could tell he was listening.
“And I also know you took a spill this morning,” Lizzie said.
“I did, but I’m okay.” Kate noted the other woman’s clipboard. “I take it we’re talking officially rather than personally?”
Lizzie smiled. “A little of both, I think kboted to he.”
Matt greeted his sister and set a glass of ice water on a coaster in front of her, then moved on to suggest items actually on the menu to the dark-haired woman, whose name was apparently Lana.
“On the official front, I’d like to ask you a couple of questions,” Lizzie said to Kate.
“No problem.”
“Matt said you got here before him. Was there anybody else around or leaving the Depot area when you arrived?”
“The last person I saw was Junior Greinwold walking down Keene Avenue with Harley Bagger. Otherwise, no one, which I’m coming to understand is pretty common this time of year.”
Lizzie nodded. “It’s quiet, which makes something like what’s happened around here really stand out. And what frustrates me is that this building is like fingerprint soup. Even though it’s the cleanest restaurant I’ve ever seen, it’s still a public place. People are in and out all day long. Lifting prints would be pointless.”
Kate nodded in agreement. “You know it’s been more than the Dumpster fire and the vandalism, right?”
“Matt told me about some other events… flat tires, stolen supplies, and the open walk-in cooler.”
“Plus the iffy Depot beer at Bagger’s, though I have no idea if that was actually related. It’s how I landed here, though. Harley fired me, and Matt hired me.”
“Really? I thought he’d hired you because you two are involved.”
A redhead one seat down from Lizzie aimed a surprised look Kate’s way. Kate ignored it and focused on Matt’s multitasking skills.
“How does he do that?” Kate asked Lizzie.
“ADD,” she replied. “Mom always said Matt was either going to spend his life with a million tasks half done or learn to run the world.” Her smile, so similar to her brother’s, held a ton of pride. “It looks like he’s taken the world-running route.”
And he looked damn fine while doing it, too.
“Okay,” Lizzie said. “One last official question for you. I know it’s unlikely, since you haven’t been back in Keene’s Harbor very long, but is there anyone here who could have a grudge against you? Is it possible that yesterday’s incident wasn’t aimed at Matt at all?”
“From what Matt has told me, no one other than Jerry knew that Matt and I were going to be in early. I’m not tops on Jerry’s list, but he wouldn’t endanger his job to get rid of me. Beyond that, I’ve kind of been on the fringes of things since I came to town. Nobody much knows me. I don’t think I’ve even had the opportunity to tick anyone off besides Deena Bowen, and I get the sense that it’s not personal in her case. She’s angry at k19;ilar to the world.”
“You’ve got that one half right. She might be ticked off at the world, but she saves a lot of her ammo for Matt. I think after Friday night, you could have moved into target range.”
“Do you mean by singing in the karaoke competition? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It does. I saw the way Matt was looking at you while you sang,” Lizzie said. “And if I saw it from the side of the stage, guaranteed Deena saw it from backstage.”
Kate glanced down the bar, where Lana was stroking the bar’s laminated surface while talking to Matt.
She rolled her eyes at Lizzie. “Paging Captain Oblivious.”
Lizzie followed Kate’s line of vision. “It’s always been like that for him. The less he pays attention, the more blatant they become. Growing up with him in the house and the high school versions of Lana at the door was weirdly entertaining. If nothing else, it gave me a good perspective on how I didn’t want to be around boys.”
“No doubt.”
“Hey,” Lizzie said. “This is kind of spur of the moment, but would you like to come have dinner at my parents’ with me tomorrow? It’s Spaghetti Tuesday, which means it’s a family tradition that we drag along friends. My mom makes a salad and a huge pot of spaghetti. If it all gets eaten, great. If not, my sisters and I have leftovers to take home.”
“What about Matt?” Kate asked, and just as she did, he came to stand in front of them.
“Matt’s our backwoods recluse when he’s not at work. He never comes to Spaghetti Tuesday.”
Matt looked at Kate. “Contrary to what my sister says, I’m not a hermit. I’d actually been planning on spaghetti night. How about if I pick you up?”
Kate put her hand on the smooth bar surface and quickly pulled it back. “Sure.”
“Great. I’ll be there at six.”
“See?” Lizzie said to him. “You’re dating!”
A gasp rose along the girls’ all-star admiration line, then all eyes turned to scrutinize Kate. In the space of thirty seconds, she’d gone from being unknown to notorious. But for spaghetti, family, and time with Matt Culhane, she’d deal. And happily, too.
JUST BEFORE five that evening, Kate walked into the post office. She smiled at the sweeping stairway to nowhere, created when the building’s second floor had been roped off due to declining town population. Despite the passage of time, the interior of the ornate sandstone and yellow brick building was like a trip back to the early 1900s. Or maybe just to high school, considering the way Deena Bowen was giving K k wastoate the stink-eye as she approached.
Deena stepped away from the wall of brass and glass-fronted post office boxes.
“Hey,” she said.
Kate had never heard that one syllable delivered with more crankiness.
“I hear you’re going out with Matt,” Deena said.
Kate wasn’t going to get into the technical aspects of whether a family spaghetti dinner qualified as a date. She worked up what she hoped was a noncommittal shrug and moved on to her mailbox.
“He’ll dump you. Just wait and see,” Deena called after her.
Kate didn’t plan to get to the dating point, let alone the dumping point. She let the comment roll off and turned her attention to the accumulation of mail in The Nutshell’s box.
“Junk, bill… more junk,” she said as she pulled items from the tight space. “And… trouble.”
Her mother’s custom periwinkle linen stationery was unmistakable, as was her perfect cursive script-written with a black ink fountain pen, of course. So long as the letter wasn’t directed to her, Kate found it cool that her mom kept up the dying art of handwritten correspondence. But when
Kate closed the box and took her load to the counter behind her for sorting. She dropped the catalogues filled with goods she couldn’t afford into the recycling bin, tucked the electric bill into her purse, and opened her mom’s letter. In the past, many of Mom’s messages were like bikini waxes: best finished quickly.
The first few lines were about the weather and her mother’s golf game. Then Mom offered a little chitchat about Kate’s brother and sister and their respective brilliant toddler offspring, which led into the true purpose of the letter.
