Page 10 of Nikoli

"No."

Rhodes chuckles into his beer bottle.

I give him a sideways glance, narrowing my eyes.

"Is that why it's spelt wrong?"

"I'm out of here." Rhodes bumps into me as he passes. He gives me a grin from behind Sarah.

"That's how it's spelled on my birth certificate," I grumble, not wanting to explain the missing letter 'a' in my name. I don't see what the big deal is. Nikoli or Nikolai. Both names sound the same as they roll off the tongue. "Do you always go to business events with your father?" I ask, not really wanting to have a conversation with this girl. I don't even think it's because I'm distracted by Willow. There is something about Sarah that is, for lack of a better word, off.

"If I know there are going to be a lot of hot single guys, yeah." She moves closer.

I take a step back. "I'm not single."

"Your friend over there told me you are."

"Well, you've been misinformed." I force a wry smile, but from the look on her face, I'm guessing it's more of a grimace. "I'll be on my way. Nice to have met you." She's not happy as I make my way through the partygoers.

I'm just happy to escape.

7

WILLOW

My heart pounds as I press myself against the wall of the janitor's closet. Footsteps come closer. I hold my breath and pray they pass without noticing me. It's not like I'm doing anything I shouldn't be doing. But Julie and Sandra shouldn't be sneaking around the hallways. Especially when it looked like Sandra was keeping an eye out. Julie had snuck out of Mr. David's room. Her actions looked suspicious, so I decided to duck into the janitor's closet. What are they up to? Mr. David is a nice man. Not all our residents have dementia or other debilitating conditions. They're just here for extra care and assistance.

The footsteps pass by where I'm hiding, so I think the coast is clear. I peek out cautiously and see them turn the corner at the end of the hallway toward the dining room. I breathe a sigh of relief and quietly make my escape, grabbing a hand full of paper towels. I smile as I pass Susan Wilcox, one of the senior managers. I can't shake the feeling that the woman's eyes are still on me.

With a belly full of nerves, I quickly enter Mrs. Southern's room. I lean against the door in relief. I take a moment to catch my breath before carefully unfolding the paper towels. My eyes meet Martha's.

"Are you okay, dear?"

I swallow hard and shake my head. What is wrong with me? Why am I suddenly freaking out over the most trivial things? Sandra and Julie are supposed to be working in Mr. David's room. Susan is a manager and has free rein over the entire facility. I'm freaking out over nothing. I see things that aren't there. I pull myself together and move away from the door. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Martha gives me a suspicious look.

I force a smile on my face. "I'm sure." I put the paper towels on the counter, walk over to Martha, and drop into the opposite chair. "Well, maybe I should stop reading mysteries. Then I won't see suspicion in others."

Martha laughs and shakes her head. "You're too paranoid for your own good sometimes," she says, reaching out to pat my hand. I laugh nervously, grateful for her reassurance. I can't shake the fact that I'm sure I wasn't supposed to see what I did.

"So, enough about me. What would you like to do?"

"That's a loaded question," Martha mumbles. "I think I'd like to go to Faneuil Hall. I haven't shopped there in a long time. There's a nice ice cream parlor there."

"I know the place." I grin. "Let me see if I can arrange a trip."

"Oh, talk to Wayne. He's nice and accommodating, not like the other one."

I snort. I have no desire to see Susan Wilcox again so soon. Wayne isn't as high up in the food chain as Susan, but he's high enough to make that kind of decision.

* * *

I've only been to this place once since I've been in Boston. The variety of ice cream is mind-boggling. The flavors range from classic to unique, and I struggle to decide which to try. The store also has a cozy atmosphere that makes the experience even more enjoyable. Although I have the feeling that Martha's excitement has been transferred to me, the elderly lady is buzzing in her seat as she waits for me to pick up our order.

I look around and smile at the kids with their faces pressed to the glass as they look at the ice cream. One of the staff catches my eye and hands me our tubs of pleasure—three scoops each. I sigh as I carefully carry them over to our table. "I'll get some napkins."

"Oh, you don't need to. Nikoli will bring them over."

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