AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Is she returning your calls or texts?”
“No,” I admit.
She pushes the door open and steps in. “Then I’d say she’s gaslighting you.”
“What?’
“Sorry, ghosting. Is that the right term? She’s ghosting you.”
She starts to shut the door in my face, but I put my free hand on it to keep it open.
“Well, will she be in later, do you know?” I ask. “The council made the decision about the Addison, not me. I meant what I said about withdrawing, and I really tried, but Walden—” I stop short of telling her that Blaze’s brother is deliberately setting her up to fail. “I just need to talk to her, to tell her it wasn’t my fault.”
The older woman stares at me through her thick round glasses and sighs. “Believe it or not, young man, it’s not all about you. Your lady friend is sick of being taken for granted by this town. She’s been offered interviews at a half dozen libraries around the country, and I’m pleased to say that she’s taking them.”
It’s a warm August morning, but a chill runs through me. “What do you mean?”
She repeats herself, deliberately slow and loud. “She’s… been… offered… interviews… around—”
“I get it!” I interrupt. “But I mean—” I’m not really sure what I mean. “You mean she’s really left town? Do you know when she’ll be back?”
The old lady just shrugs and looks annoyingly smug.
“Damn it!” I mumble. “There’s got to be a way to fix this.”
“A quarter million dollars or so ought to do it,” she says briskly.
I snort. Even if Christine hadn’t wrecked my credit, I never could have put my hands on that kind of cash. “Fat chance,” I mumble.
Well, what now? I’m a man of action. When something needs doing, I do it. Now I’m stuck waiting. Waiting for Blaze to decide she’s ready to talk. Waiting to see if she takes a job somewhere else. Waiting to see if it’s over between us.
The old lady eyes the latte. “Did you bring that for Blaze?”
I hold it out toward her. “Yeah. You want it?”
She gives me a sweet smile as she takes it. “I prefer the mochas, but the vanilla lattes aren’t bad.”
“You might as well take the pastries, too.” I hand her the bag.
“Why, thank you!” She gives me an impossibly bright smile, then sighs. “Oh, why don’t you come in? I can’t eat all of these by myself, and you look like you could use some company.”
I don’t really want company, but I don’t know what I do want, except Blaze or, failing her, two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I don’t know what else to do, though, so I follow her inside. It’s dark and warm and a bit stuffy.
“Gotta turn on the AC,” the woman says. “That’s why I get here early, give it a chance to cool things down. It’s not very efficient. The modern systems have timers, but not ours.”
“I get your point,” I grumble.
“I’m Gigi, by the way.” She tosses a grandmotherly smile over her shoulder.
“Jeremy Wainwright,” I reply.
“I know,” she replies.
I follow her down a hallway behind the circulation desk and into a small staff kitchen.
“Sit,” Gigi orders.
I sit down at the table while she puts the pastries on a plate. She puts it on the table and sits down opposite me. I cross my arms over my chest and stare at nothing in particular.
