Catching Air (16 page)

She stared at them, thinking hard. Weren’t disposable phones impossible to trace? She thought so but couldn’t remember for sure. She’d seen enough thrillers to know that either way, she should stay on the line for only a short time.

She went into the store and juggled the groceries while she dug into her purse for some cash. Then she stepped back outside to look for Peter. He hadn’t pulled up in front of the grocery store yet, so she wrestled with the plastic clamshell packaging on the phone, using her teeth and nails to wrest the device free. She had five hundred minutes of connection time, but she was planning to use fewer than two of them.

She dialed the phone number of the investment banking firm and in a low voice asked for Kay, one of the administrative assistants who’d been part of the weekly group happy hours. Kay was forever rescuing animals in need. Every month or so, a notice would go out on the firm’s Listserv: Kay had found a one-eyed tabby cat that needed a home, or a pregnant mutt at the pound was about to give birth to puppies who’d be up for adoption as soon as they were weaned. Kay had a good heart, and she wasn’t Dawn’s closest friend at the office—two reasons why Dawn had chosen her. If someone were monitoring incoming calls in an effort to track Dawn, they might overlook one to Kay.

“Kay Dunning, may I help you?”

The gravelly voice almost undid Dawn. She hadn’t spoken to anyone from her old life since fleeing New York. She imagined Kay sitting in her cubicle, sucking on the electronic cigarette she used in a seemingly endless battle to quit, surrounded by photographs of the unloved animals she was driven to help.

“Hel-loooo?” Kay sounded impatient now.

“Kay?” Her voice was a croak.

“Yes, who is this?”

“It’s Dawn.”

She could hear Kay’s gasp of breath. “Dawn! Where are you, girlfriend?”

“I’m . . . not in New York anymore,” Dawn said. “I had to leave.”

“Well, we’ve got a dozen rumors going around here. Someone said you stole some money and took off for Mexico, and then there’s the theory that you quit to work for a competitor and took all the company files with you. Personally I was hoping George Clooney kidnapped you and took you to that villa of his in Italy.”

Seconds were ticking by too fast.

“Can you tell me anything else?” Dawn whispered urgently. “Is anyone looking for me?”

“Yeah,” Kay said. She lowered her voice. “Two cops were in here last week. They took some stuff from your office.”

She had maybe half a minute left. “Anyone else?” Dawn asked. “What about that guy Tucker from the mailroom?”

“Oh, Dawn,” Kay said, her voice too kind. “You know he has a serious girlfriend, right? She came by the office for lunch last week.”

Kay’s tone told Dawn everything she needed to know: Tucker had gone public with his story about her crazy infatuation with him.

Dawn almost dropped the phone when someone jostled her from behind. She was momentarily swallowed up by a group of snowboarders who were walking down the sidewalk.

“What’s it called again?” one of them shouted to a friend.

“The Pickle Barrel,” shouted the guy right as he passed by Dawn. “I think it’s in the next block.”

Dawn raised the phone back to her ear with a shaking hand, wondering how much Kay had heard. The guy’s voice had been so loud.

“Kay?” she said. “I’m in trouble. Please don’t tell anyone I called. I’m begging you.”

She was counting on her old co-worker’s big heart, hoping it would trump her sense of duty.

“I didn’t do any of the things they said I did,” Dawn cried. “I promise. Tucker—he tricked me—”

She’d been on the line too long. She didn’t have time to explain what had happened, or to try to get Kay on her side.

“I won’t bring it up to anyone,” Kay finally said. “But if they ask me, I have to tell the police you called. I need this job, Dawn.”

“Okay,” Dawn whispered, then she hung up.

Even if Kay had caught the snowboarder’s words, there had to be other places in the world called the Pickle Barrel, Dawn thought as she gripped the phone tightly in her hand.

Why wasn’t Tucker content to annihilate her heart? Why did he have to destroy the rest of her life, too? If he appeared before her right now, she wouldn’t run. She’d launch herself at him, clawing his face and shouting obscenities. Her rage felt like a beast living inside of her.

The phone had the capability to send texts, and she’d memorized Tucker’s number. He’d probably gotten rid of that phone now, but she had to do it anyway:
FUCK YOU,
she typed, then she hit Send.

She threw the phone on the ground and crushed it with her shoe, grinding her heel into the plastic and relishing the loud crack as it broke apart. Then she walked back to the grocery store and saw Peter was now waiting outside.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” she said. He popped the trunk so she could stash the groceries, then she slid into the passenger’s seat.

“Did you get everything you needed?” he asked.

She nodded, clenching her teeth, thinking,
No, not by a long shot.

• • •

Kira was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing every last trace of soot from the fireplace hearth when Rand and Alyssa came home. She understood Dawn’s compulsion to clean—after the phone call from her mother, she’d needed to do something requiring no thought but lots of activity.

“Everything okay?” Kira asked, pulling off her rubber gloves.

When Alyssa didn’t respond immediately, Kira looked at her more carefully. Something in her sister-in-law’s face had changed.

“Yeah,” Alyssa said. “Kind of.” She glanced at Rand. “We, ah, just got some news. Crazy news!”

“Good news?” Kira asked.

“Of course,” Alyssa said, but she didn’t sound completely convincing. “We’re, um, pregnant.”

Kira was perfectly still for a beat. “But—you were adopting—you said—Grace,” she sputtered.

“We still are, of course,” Alyssa said. “This was a . . . a little surprise.”

“One of those little surprises you need a defibrillator to recover from,” Rand added wryly.

“Somehow I got through the first trimester without even noticing—”

“Wait,” Kira blurted. “You’re in your
second
trimester?” She looked at Alyssa’s midsection, but it was impossible to tell if she was showing because of her coat.

“Barely,” Alyssa said. She ran a hand over her forehead. “It’s all so crazy. Anyway, we can’t stay long. We have to go to the hospital . . . Apparently my cervix is trying to open and they need to keep it shut so I have to get this stitch . . .”

“A cerclage?” Kira asked. At Alyssa’s surprised look, Kira added, “One of my old college roommates had one a few years ago, and she shared every detail on Facebook.” Including photos that belonged only in a medical textbook.

“Yeah,” Alyssa said. “It’s supposed to be really simple. I know we’ve got a bunch of guests coming, but maybe Rand can come back for a few hours tonight to help—”

“Hey.” Kira stood up and walked over to envelop Alyssa in a hug. Her sister-in-law was shaking slightly, and she seemed to be a thin layer away from tears. Although Alyssa was the taller and stronger of the two women, Kira felt as if she were holding her sister-in-law up.

“Rand is going to stay with you and take care of you,” Kira said in a gentle voice. “Don’t worry for one second about the guests. We’re pros at this by now. Peter and I can handle it.”

“Will you tell Peter?” Rand asked. “Don’t think we should wait around.”

“Of course,” Kira said. She gave him a hug, too, but he felt stiff and unyielding. Shock, she thought, and worry for Alyssa and the baby.

“Thank you,” Alyssa whispered.

Kira smiled. “You are never boring, did you know that?” She felt good when that coaxed a little laugh.

“I need to pack a bag,” Alyssa said. “Can you come help me figure out what to bring? You’re so good at that stuff, and I’m not thinking clearly. We’re supposed to check in tonight so they can monitor the—our baby . . . It sounds so strange, doesn’t it? I think that’s the first time I’ve said those words aloud. I can’t get used to them. Anyway, I don’t know what time we’ll be back tomorrow . . . Rand will call you—”

“Just relax,” Kira interrupted again. Usually she was the chattier one, but Alyssa was clearly releasing stress by babbling. “All you have to do is take care of yourself and my other niece or nephew.”

She walked with Alyssa into the bedroom, keeping her arm around her sister-in-law’s waist. “You’ll need a nightgown and toothbrush and toothpaste and clean underwear. Maybe a book?” She pulled one off the nightstand. “Hmm . . . this looks soothing:
Guided Meditations
?”

Alyssa shook her head. “I won’t be able to concentrate.”

“I highly recommend
People
magazine, then,” Kira said. “Tell Rand to get you one at the hospital gift shop. Don’t forget cozy socks . . . Do you need face cream? Good. And how about a charger for your phone?”

Alyssa zipped up her bag and gave it to Rand to carry to the car, and Kira stood in the doorway, smiling reassuringly and waving while they drove off.

The moment they were out of view, she marched into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine.

Chapter Fourteen

KIRA BLURTED OUT THE
news the moment Peter and Dawn returned from the store, and a wide smile instantly broke out over Peter’s face.

“That’s wonderful!” he said as he bent down to untie the laces on his snow boots.

“I know, but don’t you think it’ll be a little . . . overwhelming?” Kira asked. She wished she could recall the words when she saw Peter’s smile drop away.

“I just meant it might complicate things for guests staying here. What if the baby cries all night, or Grace gets into something because the place isn’t childproofed . . .”

“The guests will be sleeping on another floor, remember? A little soundproofing, a white-noise machine . . . it’ll be fine.” Peter shook his head. “They’re having a baby. Most people consider that happy news.”

There was a moment of silence, then Dawn spoke up: “So, should I put the grocery bags in the kitchen?”

It wasn’t the most subtle attempt to change the subject, but Kira was grateful to her nonetheless.

“Sure,” she said, avoiding Peter’s eyes. “I’ll start the chili.”

An hour later, Kira was just stirring the last spoonful of cinnamon into the big pot on the stove when she heard a vehicle roar into the B-and-B’s parking lot. She peered out the window and saw a Jeep pull to a stop, skis attached to the roof rack.

“Peter!” she called out. “We’ve got visitors!”

His voice floated down from somewhere upstairs, but she couldn’t make out his words. Maybe he was checking on the guest rooms.

It was barely one o’clock, hours before check-in. Their guests were very early, but what could Kira say? If she pretended the rooms weren’t ready, they’d probably just plop down on the couch. B-and-Bs inspired informal etiquette, Kira was learning. Most people walked right in instead of knocking, and once, at midnight, a guy had rapped on Alyssa and Rand’s bedroom door because he had heartburn and wanted Tums. Alyssa had staggered to the bathroom to get a bottle out of the medicine cabinet. When she’d relayed the story to everyone the next day, she said it wasn’t until she’d gone back to bed that she’d realized she was wearing a short T-shirt with nothing at all underneath.

“We should charge extra for that,” Rand had cracked.

Kira went to open the front door, her smile evaporating as she took in the scene: An injured skier was being supported by another man as he navigated the steps, dripping blood everywhere. His pants were ripped at the knee, and his face was pale.

“What happened?” Kira gasped.

“He fell in the parking lot. Everyone thought he was okay, because he got right back up,” one of the women reported.

“I had a little alcohol cushioning,” the injured man explained. He was as tall and beefy as a defensive tackle, with thinning blond hair. He looked to be in his mid-forties, as did his three companions.

“Yeah, like five Heinekens of cushioning.” The woman snorted.

“Shouldn’t you see a doctor?” Kira asked, thinking,
Five beers before one o’clock?

“It’s a scratch,” the guy said and let out a burp.

“Okay,” Kira said, her mind whirling. No way was she going to let this guy bleed all over their floors and new couch, especially since the wholesome-sounding family of four was en route. She pushed one of the rocking chairs closer to him. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll go get you a bandage or something?”

The woman who’d come to the door first followed Kira inside.

“I told him to stop drinking,” the woman said, like she and Kira were in the middle of an argument. “I told him!”

And how much did
you
have to drink?
Kira wondered as she went into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl, and splashed in some warm water.

“Why don’t we take this outside?” she said, unspooling a wad of paper towels and leading the way back through the swinging door. She really hated it when guests invaded the sacred space of her kitchen. “I’m Kira, by the way.”

“Gina,” the woman said as they returned to the porch. Gina had a slight accent—New York or New Jersey, maybe. “That idiot is Terry, and the other couple is Chuck and Bridget.”

“Terry’s your husband?” Kira guessed.

“Unfortunately,” Gina said. “Let’s fix him up so I can kill him later.”

Once they’d washed Terry’s leg, the injury didn’t look too bad. He’d sheared off a good bit of skin, but he could move his leg freely and insisted it wasn’t too painful.

“He carves up black diamonds all morning, then he trips on a pebble,” recapped Chuck. He swatted Terry on the back of the head.

“Let me find you some Neosporin and bandages,” Kira said. “Keep applying pressure until the bleeding stops. Don’t move!” The last two words came out with a little more force than she’d intended.

She collected the bowl of disgusting blood-tinged water and used paper towels and hurried to the bottom of the stairs. “Peter!” she hissed.

He appeared a moment later, holding a wrench.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“There’s a leak in one of the bathrooms,” he said.

“You’re kidding.” She looked at his face. “You’re not kidding.”

“Dawn turned on the sink, and water started dripping inside the vanity,” he said.

“Do you know anything about plumbing?” she asked. Home repairs were Rand’s domain.

“I’m looking it up online,” Peter said.

“Hurry!” she said. “We’ve got guests! Drunk guests!”

She raced into the kitchen, dumped Terry’s mess into the sink with a shudder, and scrubbed her hands with hot water and soap. She pulled antibiotic gel and a roll of gauze out of the first-aid kit and put them on a tray, then filled a pitcher with water and added a few slices of lemon to four tall glasses. She hesitated, then grabbed a few beers and a wedge of cheddar from the refrigerator as well as some crackers and a jar of mustard, and arranged everything on a platter. Maybe if she served them snacks, they’d stay outside until the bathroom was fixed.

“Hey, um . . . Katie?”

Kira’s shoulders tensed. The woman was back in her kitchen.

She rearranged her expression before turning around.

“This guy wants to see you.” Gina gestured to a man who looked like a college student; he was clean-cut and skinny, with horn-rimmed glasses and a sprinkling of acne on his chin. Kira started to take a step toward him, assuming he was part of the family that was also due to arrive today. Then she saw the clipboard in his hands.

“I’m Hugh Jepsen from the health department,” the guy said. “I’m here for an inspection.”

No
, Kira thought, closing her eyes. When she opened them again, skinny Hugh Jepsen and his clipboard were still there, and
his
eyes were tracking toward the mess in the sink.

“We had an injured guest,” Kira said quickly, moving to block his view. Why hadn’t she taken ten seconds to dump the soiled paper towels in the trash can? Chili ingredients littered the countertops, along with a cutting board that held the remnants of an onion; a tray of mini–bread loaves was cooling atop the stove; and a bulging bag of trash was hanging from the knob of the back door. Kira knew they’d be having unannounced inspections a few times a year; it went along with getting a license to serve food. But today of all days? Hugh Jepsen could win an Olympic gold medal in a bad timing competition.

“So I heard,” Hugh said. Kira could only imagine how Terry and Chuck had welcomed the young inspector when he’d stepped onto the front porch.

“I need to take a look around,” Hugh continued.

“A look around?” Kira echoed, stepping backward toward the sink. They couldn’t be closed down if they violated some health-code standards, could they?

She heard a loud clank overhead, and a vision of Peter attacking a pipe with the wrench, water spewing everywhere, swam before her eyes.

“Hi.”

Kira’s head whipped around as Dawn entered the kitchen. The younger woman seemed to take in the scene with a single glance, and she quickly extended her hand toward Hugh. Because of her position, he had to shift to shake it. Which meant he was no longer looking directly at the sink. Kira grabbed the mess, bowl and all, and dumped everything into the trash can.

“The guys outside said the health inspector was here. Are you from Vermont?” Dawn asked, still vigorously shaking Hugh’s hand, which prevented him from turning back around.

“Yes,” he said. “Born and raised.”

“Oh, I just love it here,” Dawn said as Kira reached for a sponge and frantically wiped down the countertop and sink. “The snow is gorgeous! I bet you had a lot of fun sledding as a kid. Did you learn to ski at a young age?”

“Uh, yeah, I did,” Hugh said as Kira slid the cutting board into the sink.

“How wonderful,” Dawn said, finally releasing Hugh’s hand.

Thank you
, Kira mouthed behind his back.

“Shall I take this tray out to our guests?” Dawn offered, reaching for the tray.

“That would be wonderful,” Kira said.

“I just need to check a few things,” Hugh said, taking a thermometer out of his pocket. He looked back at Kira and the newly clean counters behind her and blinked. She met his eyes and smiled in a way that she hoped conveyed pure innocence.

Hugh put his thermometer inside the refrigerator, bent to look under the sink, opened and closed cabinet doors, and made more notes.

“We’ve never had an injury before,” Kira said. “It was a little scary. I thought it was best to keep him outside to prevent contamination. The scrape isn’t that bad, though, it just looked awful at first.”

Stop talking,
she ordered herself. She waited while Hugh bent down to scrutinize the edges of the floor and peered inside the microwave and oven. He retrieved his thermometer from the refrigerator and checked it.

“Okay,” he finally said. “I’m all set.”

Kira breathed a sigh of relief. She swept the floors every day, and the shelves in the refrigerator were sparkling clean thanks to Dawn, so maybe he’d overlook the drips of blood on the front porch.

“Is there anything else we need to do?” she asked.

“Nope, that should cover it,” he said.

She couldn’t read his expression and still wasn’t sure if he’d glimpsed the disaster in the sink.

“It sure is a snowy day for you to be out,” she blurted. “Of course, I guess this weather isn’t anything out of the ordinary if you live in Vermont. I just moved here from Florida. My in-laws are the co-owners. They’re adopting a baby from China and they’re also pregnant, so they’re at the hospital right now getting checked out . . .”

Take pity on us
, she thought
. We’re nice people!

Hugh began edging toward the door, and she followed him, trying to glimpse the notes on the pad tucked under his arm. “Can you . . . would you mind . . . I mean, did everything go okay with the inspection?”

“I’m really not supposed to discuss the results,” he began, opening the storm door and stepping onto the porch. Which, Kira noticed with a rush of relief, Dawn had miraculously cleared of any traces of blood.

“The libations were a hit!” hollered Terry. “Time for another round, señorita!”

Kira slumped against the doorframe. She’d budgeted the après-ski package carefully, allotting one or two drinks per person, but she had the feeling that Terry and his friends were just getting started. At this rate she’d lose money tonight.

She noticed Hugh looking at her. He seemed a little older than she’d first thought, and he wore a slim gold wedding ring. She couldn’t read the expression in his eyes.

“Good luck with your guests,” he said. “I’m sure everything will be fine.” Then he winked, and she exhaled. They were safe.

“Another round coming up,” Kira said, heading back into the kitchen.

Dawn carried in the tray and began to scrub the dirty platter. “Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.

“Are you kidding?” Kira said. “You just
saved
me.”

“I’m so sorry about the sink,” Dawn said. “I turned on the faucet because I was cleaning in there, and I noticed water coming out through the bottom of the vanity . . .”

“Hey, it’s not your fault,” Kira said. “I’m glad it was you who discovered the leak instead of a guest.”

She took stock of the kitchen. “Tell you what,” she said. “Can you hollow out the mini–bread bowls and I’ll finish the chili?” She demonstrated how to pull out the bread innards, leaving the crusty shells intact. “We can use the leftover bread to make croutons or something later.”

“Sure,” Dawn said. She picked up a knife and got to work.

With any luck, Kira thought, they’d get the food ready quickly and then she could call a plumber about the sink—not that she didn’t have faith in Peter, but the biggest home improvement project he’d ever tackled was hanging pictures that always ended up crooked.

The kitchen door swung open again, and Kira fought back the urge to pick up the nearest frying pan and bop the intruder over the head. Luckily, it was just Peter.

“Any luck with the sink?” she asked.

“Um . . . it’s leaking faster,” he confessed.

“We need to call a plumber,” Kira said. “Oh, crap!” She caught sight of the hot buttered rum on the stove beginning to boil over and raced to turn down the burner.

Too many crises were colliding. The fear she’d tried to push out of her mind came rushing back full force: Alyssa and Rand’s baby was at risk. What Kira hadn’t mentioned about her Facebook friend was that her baby had ended up coming seven weeks early and had spent the first few weeks of its life in the ICU. But Kira had to tamp down her worry and keep smiling, because their new guests would be arriving soon, and Gina would probably come through the door at any moment to demand more drinks. Plus, she’d planned to stay up late tonight making soup for Jessica’s first-course tasting, then she had to prepare passed appetizer samples, and the salmon and pasta with side dishes, and it all had to be perfect, or Jessica would demand more changes. And then there were all the rooms and bathrooms that would need to be cleaned tomorrow and the next day . . .

She felt a hand on her arm, and she looked up at Dawn, with her light hair growing in at the part of her dyed dark bob and her big, blocky glasses. Dawn, their strange, sweet guest who’d saved her only moments ago.