Page 74 of Dear Ripley

Eventually, she took a steadying breath. “Maybe that’s true, but I don’t think it’s applicable in this situation. You just need to actually talk to each other, and then you’ll realize you’ve always been on the same page, and everything will be right in the world.”

I didn’t believe her, but I saw how much she needed to believe it, and a small part of me—some lost, little girl from years ago—wanted to believe it too, so I sighed. “Whatever you say.”

“Great. So, you’re going to stay at mine tonight, we’re all going to have a great slumber party, and everyone’s going to be safe and happy.”

“Sounds great,” I said, my voice a little flat. “But I do have to finish these flowers first, so, are you here for anything relevant to that, or would you like to leave me to it?”

She scoffed. “I’m not here for flower arranging, but let’s not act like my presence doesn’t enrich your life and your work.”

I laughed, grateful the slightly hurt look was gone from her face. “Oh, of course. I don’t know how I’d ever get work done without you here to distract me.”

“Exactly.” She turned to the door, signaling she wasn’t here for anything relevant. “And bring pizza with you when you come over.”

I laughed. “Alicia went through your kitchen and deemed everything inedible and insufficient for dinner.”

She turned back to me, rolling her eyes. “See, you still know her exactly. You even sound like her when you’re describing it.”

I laughed, but my lungs felt tight. People had commented, when we were together, on all the ways we started sounding and acting alike. It was just one of those things that happened when you were that close with a person. I hadn’t realized my brain still defaulted to that setting when I thought about her. I hadn’t realized how easy and comfortable that space would still be to slip into. I hadn’t even realized I’d done it, it just came naturally, like I was always supposed to be there, or like my brain just functioned that way. It took far less than eight years to discover that space and become like Alicia, but, apparently, it took a lot more than eight years to escape it.

Maybe I didn’t really want to escape it. Maybe that was the problem.

“Good luck with the delivery,” she called, the bell tinkling again as she exited the store, leaving me alone with a creepy stalker bouquet and a million complicated feelings about Alicia. Was I being just like Ellie? Was my version of the creepy stalker bouquet the letters?

The first carnation delivery might have been along those lines—too close for comfort, to my mind—but, after several moments of panic, I decided the letters weren’t. It wasn’t stalking if the other person was willingly and freely responding. It was a relaxed, voluntary conversation. Sure, it came with a side of panic and confusion, but only in the same way Alicia had always come with those things, and she didn’t seem to want to stop the conversation. She’d been quick to write and deliver her latest reply. I doubted Harlow, meanwhile, had any interest in exchanging notes, flowers, or anything other than parting words with Ellie.

???

With the flowers done, I walked them over to the Merrington household. While holed up at Morgan’s, Harlow had planned to text her mother the updates, a warning about Ellie being in town, and instructions on what to do when I showed up at the door. I wouldn’t normally do my own deliveries—though, in Jackson Point, it wasn’t unheard of with my regulars—but, in this case, we knew it was safer not to bring anyone else in.

Perhaps it would have been easier not to attempt the delivery at all, but, with Ellie about and potentially watching, we didn’t want to take any chances. The whole thing made me feel uncomfortable, like I was being followed. I could only imagine how Harlow must be feeling. Something told me that Ellie wouldn’t be able to resist a glimpse of Harlow receiving the flowers—some weird power trip around getting her message to Harlow, of seeing the moment Harlow realized she wasn’t alone in Jackson Point, but was being followed by her ex-wife. I wasn’t sure whether Ellie wanted it to be romantic or intimidating, but, either way, it was creepy.

Nothing about the Merrington house looked out of place. Everything looked the same way it always did—the garden in a flush of spring bloom, that welcome energy to it—even as I was certain there was tension inside.

I knocked, hearing the scrape of a wooden chair leg across the floor when I did.

Edith pulled the door open with a smile, obviously having checked the peephole first. To most people, it would look like her usual smile. To me, this up close, I saw the tension.

I’d never had a truly bad relationship, or one with someone who hunted me down like Ellie was with Harlow—hell, I’d only ever really been with Alicia—but I’d seen enough people and enough friends go through hell that I knew I had to do everything in my power to help Harlow. And, seeing the tension on Harlow’s face, Alicia’s face, and now Edith's face, I knew Ellie was a threat Harlow and Jackson Point could do without.

“Ripley, hi,” Edith said, her voice just a little too loud. She thought we were being watched too, it seemed.

“Hey, Edith,” I replied, attempting to ignore the creeping goosebumps down my back. “Just wondering whether Harlow’s here? Got a lovely delivery for her.”

I waved the flowers in the way I would when I had actually nice flowers to deliver. And, well, the flowers themselves were nice—I wasn’t going to do a shoddy job on the arrangement, both from professional pride and for appearances—but the whole situation left an unpleasant, metallic taste in my mouth.

“Oh,” Edith said, her smile faltering so realistically, I assumed she could only be filled with worry for her child. “She’s actually left for a while.”

“Oh, anywhere nice?” I asked, playing my part.

“Somewhere to see a friend, I think.” Her voice was increasingly panicked. We needed to get out of this quickly. Edith was not a great liar or actor. “She’ll be gone for a few weeks.”

“Ah. Okay, well, I guess I’ll take these back with me and let the sender know.” I gave her a wide, hopefully comforting, smile. “I’ll see you around, Edith.”

She nodded, her eyes too wide, and quickly closed the door, leaving me to head back to the shop with the flowers still clutched in my grasp, and constantly terrified Ellie was going to jump out from behind a bush to confront me.

Chapter 25

Alicia

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