Софи Келли: Final Catcall

She was wearing three twisted silver bracelets and she pushed them up her arm. “It’ll work out,” she repeated. “What’s meant to be always finds a way to be.”

I waved at Roma as she headed out the door. “So you think Marcus and I are meant to be?”

Maggie laughed. “Where have you been for the last year and a half?”

Andrew joined us again.

“I’ll see you this afternoon,” I said to Maggie.

“I’ll be back and forth between the tents and the community center,” she said. She leaned around me to speak to Andrew. “Are you coming to the food tasting and art show this afternoon?”

“Yes, I am,” he said. He shot me a sideways look. “If someone takes pity on me and agrees to show me around.”

At that moment, outside the diner, Burtis Chapman was coming up the sidewalk, likely on his way back to his truck. Burtis was a big block of a man. He looked as though he could wrench the top off a bottle with one hand. Or someone’s head off his neck.

“I think I could find someone to do that,” Maggie said sweetly. She pointed out the window. “There’s Burtis. I’m sure he’d be happy to show you around.”

Andrew just laughed. “It was good to meet you, Maggie,” he said.

She smiled. “You too.”

We walked out together. Maggie went down the street and Andrew and I turned left toward the library. “So did I pass inspection?” he asked after we’d walked a few feet.

“They liked you,” I said.

He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’m very likable.”

I ignored the comment. “How did you know I asked them to meet us?”

“I know you,” he said. “You haven’t changed that much.” He reached over and brushed a stray piece of hair off my face. Andrew had made that same gesture dozens of times when we were going out, but it felt too personal this time. Without really thinking about it, I took a step sideways, putting a little more space between us.

His face flushed. “Sorry,” he said softly.

We walked in uncomfortable silence to the corner. I was trying to think of some new way to tell Andrew to go home and I wasn’t paying any attention to people coming down the hill. So I didn’t see Marcus until I literally walked into him.

He caught me by my shoulders to steady me. “I’m sorry, Kathleen,” he said. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you all right?”

I nodded. “It’s not your fault. I wasn’t paying attention, either.” I stared up into his blue eyes, feeling ridiculously happy just to be standing there.

He seemed to realize then that he was still holding on to me. He dropped his hands and I caught the scent of his citrusy aftershave before he stepped back.

“You did hurt your arm.” He gestured at the sling.

“It’s not serious,” I said, rubbing the shoulder where his hand had rested just a moment before. Was I imagining that I could still feel the warmth from his fingers?

“It looks serious.”

“It’s not—I promise. Roma and Maggie took me to the emergency room. The sling is just to keep me from using my arm for a few days.”

“That’s good.” He jammed both hands in the pockets of his jacket, his gaze never leaving my face. “I’m glad you’re all right.” I waited for him to say he’d gotten my messages, that he was sorry, angry, anything. But he didn’t.

Beside me Andrew shifted from one foot to the other.

I cleared my throat. “Marcus, this is my friend Andrew Reid. He’s here from Boston.” I turned to Andrew. “Andrew, this is Detective Marcus Gordon.”

It seemed to me that Marcus stood just a little straighter as he held out his hand. Andrew definitely did, squaring his shoulders and taking a step forward to shake hands.

“Welcome to Mayville Heights,” Marcus said. “Are you here for the food tasting?”

“No, I’m not,” Andrew said with a cool smile that was nothing like the charming grin he’d used on Maggie at the café. He shot me a quick sideways glance.

I’d never told Marcus about my relationship with Andrew, but it was clear from the way his face shifted into his unreadable police officer expression that he’d figured out there had been something between us. Both men were sizing each other up and not being very subtle about it. I felt a little like they were a couple of German shepherds and I was a fire hydrant.

“I need to get to the station,” Marcus said abruptly. “Take care of your arm, Kathleen.” He gave Andrew an almost imperceptible nod and continued down the sidewalk.

Andrew and I crossed the street and continued on to the library. “I suppose in a small place like this you get to know pretty much everyone,” he said after a couple of minutes of silence.

I knew a fishing expedition when I heard one. “That’s one of the things I like about Mayville Heights.”

“You know a lot of people in Boston.”

We were almost at the library. “I know that,” I said, stopping again so I could look at him full-on. “I know my family is there. And Lise, and a lot of other people I care about. But you’re still wasting your time. I’m not going to fall into your arms and ride off into the sunset with you.” I started walking again and he scrambled to keep up with me.

“Sunrise,” he said after a moment.

I frowned at him. “Excuse me?”

“Sunrise.” He made a gesture in the general direction of the river. “We’d be going east, so we’d be riding off into the sunrise.”

I took a deep breath and turned toward the library steps. I thought it was a better idea than pushing him into the nearest flower bed, which was what I’d suddenly had an intense urge to do.

Mary was just coming from the parking lot. “Good morning, Kathleen,” she said. She smiled at Andrew and offered her right hand. There was a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Hello, I’m Mary Lowe,” she said. “And you are?”

Tiny and gray-haired, Mary looked like she should be in the kitchen baking apple pies—which she did like to do. She was also the state kickboxing champion for her age and weight class. She may have looked like a sweet little grandmother, but she also had what she called her don’t-give-a-flying-fig-newton side.

Andrew shook her hand and introduced himself. I went up the steps, unlocked the main doors and turned off the alarm.

He stepped through the second set of doors and stopped. I watched him take in the wide wooden trim, the stained-glass windows and the mosaic tile floor. “Oh, Kath, this is nice work. Very nice work,” he said, nodding his head as he continued to look around.

I grinned as though I’d actually been the one to repair the mosaic floor tiles and sand the gleaming woodwork.

“This is one of the Carnegie libraries.”

Mary nodded, shifting her quilted tote bag from one hand to the other. “It was built a hundred years ago.”

Andrew gestured toward the curve of windows in the computer area overlooking the water. “All that trim can’t be original.”

“It’s not.” You could hear the pride in Mary’s voice and see it in her smile.

“Someone did some excellent work in here.”

“That would be Oren Kenyon,” I said.

“And Kathleen,” Mary added, beaming at me. “None of this would have happened without her.” She turned her attention back to Andrew. “You like old buildings.”

He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Mary, would you do me a favor?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said at once. “What is it?”

“Could you put together a little walking tour of town for Andrew and give him directions?”

“I’d love to.”

“I don’t want to put you out,” he said.

“Nonsense.” She waved away his objection with her free hand. “In fact, I think Susan put a few of those new walking maps of the downtown out here.” She moved behind the circulation desk to take a look.