She couldn’t believe her ears. Face red, Charlie stood tall. “We’ve traded bawdy stories about speakeasies, whorehouses, and dark alleys for six months. And now suddenly I’m fragile? Take a look at yourself.” She pointed her eyes to his bruised knuckles, the fading marks on his jaw. “I’m the only one of us who left without a scratch. I’m the one who found the bastard. And I’m the one who would’ve had him if you jackasses hadn’t come barging in.”
Nathaniel stood from his chair, roaring right in her face. “What we did to that man, you should never have considered doin’, girl!”
“It ain’t nothing I haven’t done before.” Charlie slapped the bar, her other hand balled up like she might just pop him in the mouth. “And you didn’t even get any useful information!”
“We got answers enough.” He looked downright disgusted with her.
“That’s enough now, Nathaniel.” Matthew burst from his office, pointing at his brother like he better take a step back. “Put down the liquor and head on home now. Sleep it off.”
Grumbling, Nathaniel gripped his jar, shoved past Charlie, and lumbered out the door.
Watching her friend leave, Charlie felt like her heart had been ripped out. Stinging eyes went to Eli, Charlie unclenching her fist. “You got something to say to me?”
The boy shook his head.
Determined not to cry, her gaze cut to Matthew, she glared at him with so much fury, so much distrust. Fed up with all the coldness, she swiped her pie off the counter and stormed out, loudly cursing the Emerson men to Hell.
Walking in the woods, eating a whole pie with her fingers, didn’t help at all. Charlie didn’t know what to do. At the thought of packing up her stuff and hitting the road, she cried.
They might not want her around, but she could still do something for them. She could find out what the hell was going on, break a few necks, and disappear when it was over. She could do that for the Emersons, at least. And then they could fend for themselves.
Mind made up, Charlie went home, finding Matthew had left the porch light on for her. The regulars were gone, Eli was gone, and Matthew she could hear scraping around in his office. Going in quiet, she made her way upstairs, washed up, and opened the door to the lonely bedroom.
Flipping on the light, she caught sight of a large box sitting innocently on the bed. Charlie ran her fingers over the wrapping, the fine ivory waxed-cardboard of the dress shop shining pretty. The bow was carefully pulled, the lid lifted to expose her finished wedding gown.
It was just as beautiful as she remembered, so pretty she was hesitant to touch it. Lifting it out, she held it before her body and faced the small oval mirror. She caught herself smiling. The smile faded. With a sigh, Charlie hung the dress from a peg, sat at the edge of the bed and just looked at it.
She felt foolish. She felt sad.
A light tap came to her door. Charlie stood, opened it just a crack, careful to block Matthew’s view of the gown. The man stood there, Gus tucked under his arm, quiet.
“What?”
A look passed over his face, as if he were trying to decide on what to say. In the end he extended the cat and grunted, “He’s been standing outside your door.”
Taking the kitten, she nodded her thanks, and closed her door. She’d never in her life been quite the blubbering mess she was that night. It was humiliating trying to keep her sniffing quiet, trying not to flat out sob. Lying in that bed, Gus curled up at her side, Charlie stared into the dark, feeling more alone than she had ever known.
Like an infection of the mind, over and over her fight with Nathaniel played in her head. It wasn’t until almost dawn that she wised up.
He’d said, We got answers enough.
He’d said it like it had all been her fault.
Motherfucker.
Roy had coughed up something, something Matthew had neglected to mention, something that stirred up the Emerson hive. Something they weren’t going to tell her. That explained Matthew looking at her so queerly after Nathaniel left—he was trying to gauge if she’d caught on. What if the attack had not been aimed at Matthew at all, what if someone from her past had caught up with her? What if it was all her fault?
The second Matthew heard her door he’d leapt from bed to make sure the golden girl wasn’t making a run for it. He caught her in the hall, her suitcases packed.
“Where you goin’?”
Sighing, bored, as if to remind him, Charlie deadpanned, “Martha’s shower is in a few days. My train for Chicago leaves this morning. The Radcliffes are expecting me around six.”
His voice came out funny. “It’s your party, Charlotte.”
Brushing past, she moved toward
s the stairs. “Yeah, that’s what I meant.”