Page 45 of Defend Me

A bell tinkles lightly as I enter the coffeeshop.

Perks is a cozy spot with small round tables and antique posters of French advertisements for coffee hanging on the cheerful blue walls. There’s a counter with a glass case showcasing pastries. An Asian woman with a flowery apron runs the espresso machine while a man I think is her husband takes orders. I remember them from the arraignment. They sat on the prosecution side.

I see Isla sitting with a stylish Latina woman at one of the tables. I wonder where Charlotte is. Isla waves at me happily, like she’s genuinely excited to see me. I walk over and take the empty seat.

“Hi,” Isla says.

“Hello,” I say.

“This is Charlotte.” She gestures to the woman beside her and my brain does a double take.Thisis Charlotte? She doesn’t look anything like the frumpy kindergarten teacher I had pictured. Itry to think of the right word to describe her andhotis the only thing that comes to mind. Where Isla is ingenue-pretty, Charlotte is the vixen who shows up halfway through the movie to seduce the heroine’s man. Her thick black hair falls around her shoulders in heavy curls, her eyebrows arch seductively over deep brown eyes with thick lashes, and her lips are painted bright red. She wears a pair of high-waisted linen pants and a lemon-print crop top, with a pair of Michael Kors espadrilles. A closer glance tells me they’re knockoffs but still. She wears the shit out of them.

What is this creeping sensation in my stomach? Why does my face feel hot and my fingers cold? It’s great Noah is dating someone attractive. And if she’s a kindergarten teacher, she must be nice. Which means they make a good match.

“Right,” I say, inclining my head toward her. “Charlotte.”

Charlotte lets out a dry chuckle. “You have no fucking clue who I am, do you.”

Not the response I was expecting. “Of course I do. We went to elementary school together.”

Isla looks delighted. “That’s right!”

Charlotte folds her arms over her chest. “So,” she says. “Are you going to get Noah out of this fucking mess or what?”

Of course she’s protective of him. A muscle twitches at my right temple.

“You swear an awful lot for someone who teaches kindergarten,” I observe.

“Are we in a classroom right now?” she says.

“Char,” Isla says, pacifyingly.

“I’m glad you’re here, Charlotte,” I say, changing the subject. And though it’s the truth, it feels like a lie. I’d be gladder if she looked the way I pictured her in my head. But that’s ridiculous. Who cares what she looks like? “I have some questions for you.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Shoot.”

“Isla says you called her the morning my mother was shot. That you knew the police were at the house.”

“Yeah,” Charlotte says.

“How?”

“The Magnolia Grapevine,” Charlotte says.

“The what?”

“That’s what the older folks call it,” Isla says. “Mrs. Greerson and Pop and that generation.”

“Right,” I say.

“She doesn’t know who Mrs. Greerson is,” Charlotte says.

“Is she relevant?” I snap.

Charlotte shrugs. “I mean, she knows everything about everyone in this town. She’s like the Ancient Font of Magnolia Bay Gossip. The Grapevine is basically a giant game of Telephone. My little sister, Maria, heard from her friend Gretchen, that there were cops at Everton Estate.”

Jesus, there are too many names to keep straight. “How did Gretchen know?”

“She’s a runner. She and Maria were on the track team together. Gretchen was on her morning run when she saw the cops. Called Maria to tell her.”

---