“Yes.”
“I’m not sure if I should be impressed at your ability to keep your mouth shut or upset at your inability to trust your friends to also keep their mouths shut.” She shook her head. Then she patted the Jeep Wrangler’s dashboard. Due to growing up helping her father, who was a professional at restoring cars, she knew all about motors. “This is a good compact SUV that runs well, hasn’t done too many miles for its age, and is in the right price range. If you don’t buy it, I probably will. We could use a backup vehicle.”
“I’ll take it,” I said. “Josh found a buyer for my truck who wants to use it for parts. He got me an okay price, actually.”
“Good.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I said. “I just . . . I don’t know. Something about his sad, moody ass got to me. Or maybe it was that he expected me to blab to everyone within a twenty-mile radius.”
“You do enjoy being contrary.”
“I really do. Forgive me?”
“Of course. The truth is, we’re adults. We can mind our own business and keep our own secrets now and then.” She smiled. “So you’re hoping the whole town will fall for this Gary thing? That should be interesting.”
“Eh. I think some people will just respect his privacy on principle. As for the others, it’s not like you expect to see a rock star in Wildwood,” I said. “And Linda has been working overtime with her nephew story.”
Cézanne made a humming noise. “I bet she’s enjoying herself immensely.”
“If I have to listen to how it reminds her of the time she met Hendrix at Woodstock one more time, it’s entirely possible I’ll scream. Or just continue to suffer in silence with a really pained expression.”
“I think Garrett will be okay,” she said. “Wildwood looks after their own. No wonder you decided to protect him if he moved here and tried to hide out from civilization while generally being in a bad mood. Reminds me of when you moved back to town.”
And the less said about the topic, the better. I opened the passenger-side door, ready to go haggle over price. “Wish me luck.”
By the time we settled on the vehicle and got back to town, Maria was waiting at my place. Cézanne’s husband was busy practicing with his garage band and Maria’s girlfriend was away on a work trip, so we were spending Saturday night together.
“Shiny silver,” said Maria, checking out my new wheels. “You happy with it?”
“Yeah.” I smiled. “I’ll miss the truck, but . . .”
Cézanne pulled up in her Tahoe behind me. “We found her some wheels.”
“Thank you again,” I said.
“You’re welcome.” She smiled. “Now feed me.”
“What movie are we watching?” asked Maria.
“It’s your turn to choose,” I reminded her.
In comparison to the grand old Victorian next door, my home was modest. A log cabin built an eon ago, with a stone fireplace and wooden walls, floors, and cabinets. Very atmospheric if you were after that I’m-just-here-to-commune-with-nature-and-kill-animals kind of vibe. It was, however, mine all mine. One day I’d have the money to renovate, put in a new kitchen. No time soon, given my savings had just gone toward a vehicle.
But oh well. I liked my space. I’d filled it with some vintage pieces found in antique stores and garage sales. A battered kitchen table with cool mismatched chairs. An old navy-blue wooden toy box for storing firewood. And a red sofa and a large wicker chair loaded with cushions and throws for lounging upon. The mix of colors reminded me on the bad nights, when I couldn’t sleep and couldn’t settle, that this was my home and everything was okay. That my fear was just a bad habit.
We wound up eating chicken salad in front of 28 Days Later. Despite choosing the movie, Maria spent most of the time hanging over by the window.
“All I’m saying is, if zombies can run, we’re screwed.” I speared some chicken and spinach with my fork. “No one would be left.”
“Imagine being one of the last people left alive with Cillian Murphy, though.”
“I’m not saying no.”
“What did you put in this Green Goddess dressing?” asked Cézanne. “Something’s different.”
“Since you don’t eat anchovies, I thought I’d try capers.”
She nodded. “Nice.”
“Claude suggested it.”
“I see him. He’s out with his dog.” Maria waved her hand. “Hello, Mr. Rock Star. Good day to you and your particularly large pet.”
“I’m basically just waiting for him to plant a hedge between our houses,” I said. “Or an even bigger fence without the fancy iron sections that people can see through. Top it off with a little barbed wire, perhaps.”
Cézanne nodded. “Probably be for the best.”
“He saw me. Oh! He’s raising his hand in greeting,” reported Maria. “No smile, though.”
“Smiling isn’t really his thing,” I said.
“I’m beginning to see why you didn’t tell us.” Cézanne shook her head. “Woman, sit down, would you?”