Thankfully, it did.
I shut the door and locked it for good measure. I hoped I’d now seen the last of Wyatt.
Well, the sensible, wise part of me was hoping. And maybe that was a very small part of me, but it still existed somewhere deep inside.
“Forget about him,” I muttered to myself.
Easier said than done, perhaps, but I was going to give it my best shot.
While I cleaned up the mess of wet towels on the kitchen floor, I considered my next move. As foolhardy as it was for me to promise to help Mrs. Nagy and her husband, I’d made the commitment and absolutely could not go back on it. So now I had to figure out how to solve a murder.
Easy peasy lemon squeezy, right?
I preferred the romance genre when it came to books and movies, but I’d watched a couple of reruns ofBoneswith Jemma a few years ago. Of course, I’d mostly watched for David Boreanaz, notthe plot. And come to think of it, I couldn’t remember how they’d solved any of the crimes except that they’d used some fancy-schmancy scientific techniques that were way out of my league.
Maybe not so easy peasy then.
Even though I still had no idea how to clear Mr. Nagy’s name, the next morning my day got off to a decent start. Bright and early, I applied for the job at the local clothing shop after finding the posting online. As I was in the midst of doing that, I received invitations to interviews for two copywriting positions I’d applied for. That buoyed my spirits. Copywriting wasn’t my dream career, but I had experience in the field, and I wasn’t about to be picky at this point.
After walking Livy to school, I spent the rest of the morning preparing by looking up practice interview questions on the Internet and coming up with answers that I hoped sounded intelligent. Then I donned a pantsuit, made myself presentable, and rode the subway into Manhattan.
I arrived fifteen minutes early for the first interview, with butterflies dancing in my stomach. Not the pleasant kind that I got when I encountered Wyatt or Bodie but the sort that made me want to throw up. Nevertheless, I took some deep breaths to center myself and walked into the office.
Five minutes in, they revealed that they wanted someone who could work overtime—in the office—on evenings and weekends, with little to no notice. As soon as I mentioned that I had a child in my care, the interviewers lost interest in me.
I told myself that the next one would go better. I showed up ten minutes early for that interview, only to be told that they’d already offered the job to another candidate but would keep me in mind for any future openings.
I absolutely did not cry when the receptionist gave me thatnews, but my eyes burned as I trudged back to the subway station, thinking of my dwindling bank account and how I was going to take care of sweet Livy. Could I ask my parents for financial help? Sure, but that would earn me a lifetime of disapproval from my mom. I would do it for Livy’s sake, but only as a last resort.
I honestly didn’t know what I was doing wrong. Every time I tried to get my life back on track, I discovered that those tracks were broken or washed out or didn’t exist at all.
I clamped my eyes shut as I sat on the train. No crying. No pity party. Optimism was the way to go.
I cast around in my mind to find a positive thought.
At least I had time to figure out how to keep my promise to Mrs. Nagy now?
Sure, I’d go with that.
Except, by the time I got back to the Mirage, I still had no idea how to fulfill that promise.
As I approached the building, I checked the time on my phone. My heart lurched when I realized that school was already out for the day. Then I remembered that my parents were picking Livy up at the elementary school and taking her to their place for the weekend. The panicked fluttering in my chest morphed into an ache. Being my niece’s full-time caregiver had definitely required some adjustment, but it hadn’t taken me long to get used to having her around. She’d been living with me for eleven months now, and whenever she spent a night or two away, I felt like an integral piece of me was missing, like there was a gap in my soul.
She’ll have fun,I reminded myself.
She’d be happy and well cared for, and my parents needed time with her as much as she needed time with them.
Besides, I could use the weekend alone to apply for more jobs and figure out how the heck I was going to keep my promise to Mrs. Nagy. Maybe the police would figure out their mistake, release her husband, and drop the murder charge before the weekend was over, but I couldn’t count on that happening.
As I walked through the front door of the Mirage, I was contemplating a Google search for tips on solving murders. I reached into my purse for my phone, but then all such thoughts flew off into the ether when I saw Wyatt walking my way, carrying a peachy orange box that I immediately recognized as coming from Agnes’s bakery, Tasty Buns.
“If there’s chocolate mousse cake in that box, you could be my hero,” I said as we met in the middle of the lobby.
He opened the box to reveal half a dozen scrumptious-looking mini cherry cheesecakes. “I’m destined to disappoint.”
My mouth watered at the sight of the desserts. “Hardly.”
When I raised my eyes to Wyatt’s, my stomach did a funny flip-flop that had nothing to do with cheesecake.
