She is quiet for a second. “You’re right. Of course you’re right. I wasn’t going to bother you. I would never bother you. I only wanted you to know that somebody out here sees you. I’m sorry. I won’t call again.”
She hangs up before I can answer.
Bex comes into the booth the second the show is over.
“That’s the woman who sent the flowers. I can’t prove it, but my gut says it is,” she says. “And half the letters you keep getting. Same voice. I’ve had a bad feeling about her for weeks, and tonight she proved me right.”
She sets a letter on the desk in front of me. “This came today. Read the part I underlined.”
It runs three pages, in careful handwriting. The underlined part knows things. It knows I take my coffee black. It knows I touch my wedding ring when a caller talks about leaving. It says my advice changed her life. It is signed with a small drawn heart and no name.
“I’ve flagged the number she called from,” Bex says. “I’m going back through everything, every call and every letter. And you need to decide who you take this to, because I don’t believe this is nothing.”
“She’s a lonely woman who likes the show, Bex.”
“Don’t talk yourself out of taking it seriously.”
I tell her I’ll think about it. I don’t mean it, and she knows I don’t.
“I’m not dropping this,” she says. “I’ve been doing this a long time, and most of them are exactly what you said. Lonely people who like a voice at night. This one is not that. Promise me you’ll at least tell Josie and alert your security team.”
I haven’t had a security team in a long time. Didn’t even need one on this last tour. The few people who met us at the back door just wanted a photo and an autograph. No one tried to climb on our bus or anything.
That’s how you know you’re no longer relevant.
TWENTY-THREE
Everyone is coming for Thanksgiving because it also coincides with the triplets’ first birthday. I made the mistake of asking if we’re celebrating both events in one day. The old adage if looks could kill . . . well it would also be my funeral.
Harrison and Katelyn, along with Oliver are staying at our house. Everyone, and by everyone, I mean Peyton, Katelyn and Josie, thought it would be better this way since Oliver is still a toddler and a bit loud. Peyton assured her mom that while she loved her little brother, she valued the triplets getting as much sleep as possible.
Josie and I didn’t mind. It not only gives Josie all the time she wants with her lifelong best friend, but it gives Harrison and me time to brainstorm about the band. We’d like for JD to be with us, but Eden’s training in Australia for the winter and with the band on a bit of a hiatus, JD went with his daughter and wife, Jenna.
Harrison texts me that they’re in the driveway and that Ollie demanded he be the one to knock on the door. The issue there, is he’s just a little guy and his fists don’t make much of an impacton our door. I stand by the window and wait for Oliver to knock and then open it with a big hello.
“Ollie, my man.” We fist bump and then he walks in.
“Hi, E em.” He can’t say Liam yet and that’s okay. “My dad ‘dere,” he says, pointing toward Harrison who is slowly coming up the walkway. “Where da toys?”
“In the closet, buddy.” I motion over my shoulder to the closet under the staircase. It used to be our coat closet, but Josie turned it into a toy collection center. I swear we have so many kid toys. Most of them the babies can’t even play with yet.
We also have to hang our coats on the back porch until we do a remodel or move to a bigger house. Moving is out of the question for me because this is the first house Josie, Noah and I shared as a family, and I don’t want to give it up. So, remodeling it is.
Or we stop wearing jackets altogether.
Harrison comes in after Oliver, sets the arm load of bags down and we hug. It’s odd, really. He’s my best friend and we’ve hugged before, but this one feels different. I can’t put my finger on it. Maybe it’s the holidays or the fact that our grandchildren are turning one already.
Maybe it’s me realizing I’m a matchmaker extraordinaire because had I not invited Harrison and Quinn to my first Christmas with Josie, he would’ve never met Katelyn and they wouldn’t have fallen madly in love with each other.
Matchmaking could be another side hustle for me.
Katelyn begins to hug me until Josie squeals and I become an afterthought. The two take off for the kitchen discussing turkey and cake in the same sentence.
Harrison and I pick their bags up and that’s when I see him wince. He rolls the shoulder once and acts like everything’s okay. I follow him, up the stairs and down the hall to Noah’s old room. This is where the triplets sleep when they spend the night, whichhas only happened a couple of times. Mostly, if Noah and Peyton need an overnight, Josie and Paige will go over to Noah’s. It’s much easier and it keeps the babies in their familiar space. Still, we have three cribs, a dresser, and everything else the triplets need, along with a toddler bed for Ollie.
In the next room over, Katelyn and Harrison will stay. I set the bags on the bed and then sit.
“How bad is the shoulder,” I say. It isn’t really a question.
