Page 44 of Under Locke & Key
She turns her questioning gaze from me, morphing her expression into a bright smile that I’m close enough to tell doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and she sticks her hand out to shake each of theirs.
“Nice to meet you!”
Pulling her chair out for her, I help her scoot in before I take my place beside her, facing my dad and I want to shake my head at the excitement glinting in his eyes. Mom always said he was like Gene Kelly when she met him; he had that movie star sparkle in his gaze and a smooth mouth to go with it. For an awkward and shy Theresa, it was just who she needed to step out of her shell.
“So, Rachel, Bryce tells me you’re a developer. How are you finding the change from D.C. to here? Not just in the job requirements but living as well?”
And I wish my mom had stayed shy Theresa because I can already tell she’s had these questions fired up and ready to go since I hired Rachel.
“It’s lovely here. I can definitely see the benefit of bringing something like the escape room into a community like this. There’s a healthy amount of foot traffic by the old theater, especially on the weekends, so between people who are familiar with Dulaney and what it offers, and others who are popping in for a weekend escape, it’ll be a good venture. I’ve been enjoying the charm.” It sounds almost practiced, and if I hadn’t just spent weeks with her I would have taken it at face value, but I’ve played the sound of her voice over and over in my mind and I can tell there’s something just a little too stiff about it.
In fact, her whole body seems kind of tense. Posture perfect, in an outfit far too nice for an American-style casual restaurant like Stacked and I haven’t seen her like this since the first time we met to do our interview.
She’s nervous, I realize.
“Rachel has an interest in history and antiques.” I offer it as a way to deflect their eyes off of her and I feel the catch in her breathing in how her arm brushes mine, by the time their attention is on her again she’s got her armor back and glinting prettier than ever.
“You’ll have to take her up to the antique mall.” My mom doesn’t wait for me to agree or ask whether I’d be open to it. She’s decided it’s the right move based on the situation in front of her. Interest plus opportunity plus attraction equals antique date.
“Oh, it’s not a bother, really. It’s been a while since I’ve indulged in it seriously, but it has been fun to see a lot of the history in town.”
“Speaking of history.” Dad winks at me as he pitches in to shift the conversation away from Rachel and I’ll never be upset at how well Frank Dawson can read the mood of a crowd, down to the last person. Or maybe he’s just picking up on how tense I am worrying about Rachel. “Theresa and I had our first date at the theater you all are renovating.”
Subject switched over and Rachel no longer in the hot seat, our food arrives and I am content to sit back and watch. My dad and Rachel do the majority of talking, jumping from thing to thing, eventually landing on music and I know my dad is in his element.
“A fun little fact I’ve learned over the last few weeks is that you put Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville into a minor key and it’s the most depressing thing you’ve ever heard in your life.” Rachel’s observation blows my dad’s mind.
“It’s a breezy beach song. How can it possibly be depressing?” As somewhat of a yacht rock aficionado, he’s running through all the lyrics he can remember. It’s like watching a kid learn that Santa isn’t real.
“He’s singing about wasting away in an alcohol-fueled haze after his wife left him on their vacation, and when you take away the steel drum and the beach vibes, it’s kind of a punch to the gut.”
My dad sputters at her statement and I chuckle. It’s rare that he has nothing to say. Gift of the gab and all that, but Rachel’s disarmed him and my mom’s smug smile mirrors my own. Neither one of us have been good at thwarting my dad when he’s on a roll. My mom and I get too stuck on arguing our specific point, and dad just pirouettes around it onto something else, pivoting the argument as many times as needed to win.
“Didn’t peg you for a Jimmy Buffet kind of gal,” my dad eventually manages and she grins, a real one for the first time tonight, that devastating dimple cutting into her cheek.
“Oh, I’m not. The bar my best friend works at has a Tropical Tuesdays thing in the summer and because a lot of the Hill is in recess in August it gets quieter than usual, so I keep him company. It’s a lot of Margaritaville, and Escape, and drinks with umbrellas.”
“Ángel?” I ask, trying not to bristle with an unfamiliar jealousy and Rachel nods.
It never hit me with Stephanie— jealousy. At first, I think part of me was just so happy someone looked at me with interest after bumbling my way through most of high school and college. There was a hint of being starstruck, until there wasn’t. But I always thought I wasn’t enough of a prize to feel like I could, orwanted, a claim over her. She transcended me and I put her up on a pedestal, and the distance between us only grew.
Thisthingwith Rachel, this unnamed, hungry thing feels so different. I’ve wanted to touch Rachel, toknowher, since the first time we met. And not because she batted her eyelashes at me to get what she needed out of the exchange. Rachel takes an interest inmeas a person.
Anxious energy builds up in my body as I think about the moment outside her door and my fingers clench into a fist before I remember my mishap today. Needless to say, pain shoots through my injured hand and I hiss a strained breath.
“Oh no. What happened?” Rachel’s tone shifts, concern bleeding through the mirth left from her victory over my dad.
“It’s nothing,” I say, brushing it off and trying to hide my hand on my lap.
“He hurt his hand. I patched it up as best as I could.” My mom betrays me and I shoot her a look, hoping she knows exactly how unimpressed I am with her right then.
“Bryce?” It’s the pleading in her voice, the open worry in her eyes that has me lifting my hand for her to view.
It’s not the one next to her, slightly out of reach, but she leans over and cradles it carefully in both of hers. Inspecting it, though nothing is visible because of the bandages.
“When?”
“Today.”
