Stepping into my room and tossing my towel on the foot of the bed, once again the book catches my eye. This time it’s lying open to the first clue, near my pillow as if I had been reading it.
"What in the actual hell?" I shout loud enough the neighbors probably heard me.
"Sadie, are you—" Mom rushes in, halting when she finds me in nothing but my birthday suit staring at my bed.
I snatch the towel and cover myself. It’s not like she hasn’t seen it all before, but I’m twenty-eight. I don’t really need my mother to be the first person inwaytoo long to see me naked.
"I’m good. Just thought I saw a spider." The lie sounds as forced as it feels slipping out.
"Good Lord, Sadie." Dee Dee shakes her head at me. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." She shuffles out of my room, and I promptly lock the door behind her.
This is unacceptable. I mean I can’t be losing it enough to have misremembered stuffing it in the bedside table. And frankly, I don’t have time for whatever game this is becoming. Beth must think this is funny—toying with me—but all it’s doing is pissing me off.
Dropping to the floor, I inspect under my bed—nothing but dust bunnies. I move to the closet with quiet steps, although if someone is hiding, they would have heard my freak-out. Whipping it open, it’s empty too. Giving up on the notion that she’s physically here, I slip into a pair of panties and a sundress. The entire time I’m getting dressed, my eyes remain trained on the book.
I grab my crossbody, checking to make sure my wallet and anything else I might need is inside. There’s a moment where I contemplate bringing my laptop, but the book seems to wobble in its place like the creepy game in that movie with Robin Williams where all the animals appear. I half expect it to beat with the sounds of an elephant stampede.
I leap toward the bed and grab the book. The leather is buttery yet rough on my fingertips, and a weird sensation travels down my spine. It has to be fear. I’m making this whole thing up in my head, catastrophizing for no reason. Shaking myself, I shove the book into my bag.
Heading for the front door, my mom narrows her eyes at me from her spot on the couch. "Are you okay?"
I nod. "Yeah, I’ll be back soon." My words are rushed as my feet slide into my sandals and I push out the front door. Bounding down the steps, I start my trek on the sidewalk. But when I spot our neighbor's trash can—a plan clicks into place.
Peering around to make sure Mr. Bradley isn’t outside, I quickly extract the book from my bag and shove it inside the bin.
That’ll show her!
It’s silly, but I keep looking around as if someone will have spotted me doing something illegal, or Beth will pop out and know I ditched it. I made the mistake of putting one bag of trash in my neighbor's bin across the hall two years ago—the rage on his face when he found out still haunts my dreams—and this feels similar.
Continuing toward 1793 Diner, the warm summer breeze coasts across my skin. I should feel guilty for throwing out the book when Beth gave it to me, but all I feel is relief. And honestly, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
Stepping up to the glass door, I push on the metal handle and slide inside.
"Well, now… how long has it been since I’ve seen that sweet face?" Josephine, Beth’s sister, smiles at me before continuing to refill napkin holders.
Not a single thing has changed since I last visited. Red jewel-toned booths line each of the three exterior walls that don’t contain the kitchen, below clear glass windows. The same chrome bar with an off-white top that’s aged from years of patrons eating on it sits off to one side of the room. Small stools that match the aesthetic dot the bar to provide the old-school feel this place has always had. It’s like a fifties soda shop or something you’d see in an old-timey movie. There’s even a jukebox that I’m not convinced ever worked sitting angled in the far corner, leading to the bathrooms.
I smile softly at Josephine, noticing her long hair that’s tied into a neat bun. I worked here for years in high school and summers during college, and the entire time I’ve known her, like Beth, she never shows signs of aging. There’s not a single streak of grey amongst her golden strands. It’s a bit bizarre, but then again some celebrities look the same no matter their age. Making a mental note to ask her what vitamins she takes, I walk further into the diner.
"I couldn’t come back to town and not stop in." I shrug, taking a seat in the booth furthest from the door. It’s my booth, the one I spent hours doing homework in—hours preparing to leave this place.
Jo nods before hitting the button on top of the Bunn burner to start a fresh pot of coffee. I watch from afar as she works through setting up everything needed for a normal weekend brunch rush, and I’m surprised when a wistful feeling in my chest takes over. I’ve never missed working here, at least not doing the actual job. Yet something about knowing what she’s going to do next, even after all these years, has me ready to grab an apron to assist.
Taking a deep breath to remind myself of the agenda I planned, I sink further into the springy booth and look through the menu I could practically recite word for word.
After a few minutes, Jo slides up to my table. She places a coffee mug down and fills it with 1793’s specialty blend of rich hazelnut java.
"You dropped this on your way in the door." She places her free hand on my shoulder, squeezing lightly, before sliding the freaking puzzle book across the table.
My mind is racing.How the hell? What in the? There’s literally no way.
I glance up at her, trying to decipher whether this is some sort of joke. "Beth gave me that." I slide my hand over the leather binding, and chills run up my arm. "I need to return it. Is she here? There’s something—"
"No, she’s on vacation." Jo sets the coffeepot on the table behind mine. "You need to do it, Sadie. She gave it to you for a reason." There’s a hint of disdain in her voice that gives me pause.
What reason? To drive me crazy? I’ve never been a fan of busy work and that’s exactly what this is. A ruse, a hoax, a freaking trick meant to make me see that there’s more to life. But guesswhat? I don’t need it or want it, especially with the weird way it keeps showing up in places. It’s not quieting my mind—it’s making me lose it.
I shake my head. "No, I literally just saw her last night." I’m not saying her sister doesn’t know where she is, but it’s only been like twelve hours and she never mentioned leaving. "I need to see her now," I demand.
