“Yeah?”
“I mean it. You’re safe here. Not justhere, in my bathtub here, but all of the Tooth. You’re safe here.”
I close my eyes and drop my nose into her hair again and hold her tight.
I believe her.
I might be a fool, but I believe her.
And when I hear a soft snore coming from her face on my chest, and the water cools beyond comfortable, I get us both out of the tub, dry her off, and carry her to her bed, where I hold her for the rest of the night.
32
Grey
LeavingSabrina while she’s still sleeping mid-morning feels like opening an old wound.
Like the next time I look at her townhouse, it will have disappeared. Like I’ll never see her again at the café or anywhere else in Snaggletooth Creek. Like I’m leaving myself exposed for her to disappear again.
But I have a breakfast date with Mimi, and I want to know how her evening was.
Up to a point.
I don’t need details if hers ended like mine did.
I do, however, need her advice.
“That’s the same face you had when you were puzzling out how to combine plastic and beeswax, except I think you’re dwelling on something much heavier right now,” Mimi says when I join her and Zen in the sunroom of the bed and breakfast Sabrina arranged for her. While there are six four-person tables in here, we’re currently the only occupants.
A wall of windows overlooks a snowy yard and pine-covered mountain peaks in the distance, and a colorful painting of a bear holding a coffee and tea service over the buffet on the opposite wall. Winter weekdays must not be popular for the bed and breakfast crowd. Or else we’re eating late. “And you’ve been wearing it off and on since I got here yesterday,” she adds.
“You ever contemplate justice, Mimi?” I ask while I put my napkin in my lap. My tea is steeping and for the first time in months, I feel a sense of peace.
Optimism, anyway.
Though it’s short-lived thanks to Zen, who makes a noise over their coffee cup that could mean anything fromfinally, we’re getting somewheretoUncle Grey is a moron.
“A time or two,” Mimi answers me. “Iwasmarried to your grandfather for too many decades.”
“Why’d you marry him?” Zen asks.
“I was sent to college to find a husband. When my first choice fell through, I went with the backup plan. And it was a poor backup plan.”
“Why’d you stay?”
“Murder is illegal, and he could afford better divorce attorneys.”
They’re both laughing when the hostess comes in carrying three plates of a gorgeous eggs benedict with a side of yogurt parfait and orange slices.
Zen has no memories of my grandfather, which is something I’ll forever be grateful for.
He was a scary old bastard. Passed it down to my father, despite Mimi’s best efforts, and that explains everything anyone ever needs to know about my family.
Mimi waits until our hostess has departed, fork poised over her food while she watches me finish fixing my tea. “What justice are you contemplating?”
That’s a much more complicated answer now that I know why Mimi’s here.
She confirmed Sabrina’s story yesterday afternoon, ending withI used to sometimes think about how I could’ve been living in the mountains running a little bakery with the man of my dreams, but what good are wishes that can’t come true?
