Page 26 of Luck of the Devil
“Of course! It’s a way for you to feel a connection to your mom.”
Not exactly, but I wasn’t going to confess that I also wanted to ask questions about my dad. If I told her I suspected my mother had been murdered, I’d have to explain where I’d gotten the idea. And there was no way I could confess that.
Which gave me pause. If you felt the need to hide something, it meant you were either ashamed or knew you were in the wrong.
Was either acceptable?
“I think it’s a good idea,” Louise said. “But you shouldn’t go alone. I can try to get off work and go with you.”
Would I have wanted her to go under different circumstances? It wasn’t like it was a girls’ trip. But it was a moot point.
“I think I need to do this alone,” I said. “Plus, I’m not sure how long I’ll be there. The law firm told me and Dad to take off as much time as we need.”
“You aren’t working on any cases?”
“PI cases?” I’d only gotten my PI license a couple of weeks prior, and I hadn’t told many people other than Louise, one of the law firm partners, and Malcolm. In fact, just last week, I’d considered opening my own office instead of working for my father’s law firm.
That seemed like years ago.
She released a soft laugh. “Of course. What else?”
I tried to laugh too. “Sorry. My brain’s moving a little slow right now. No, I don’t have any cases, but then again, I haven’t really hung out my PI shingle yet. I found out about my mother’s accident practically moments after I wrapped up the Hugo Burton case.”
“That makes sense,” she said. “But I’m not sure sitting around dwelling on what happened is good for you.” She took a beat. “In fact, when you’re ready to work again, maybe you should ask the law partners if they have any investigative work you could do. Something simple, like an adultery case or something.”
“Good idea,” I said. “I’ll ask them.”
“Good,” she said decisively. “Keep me updated on how long you’re gonna be at your grandparents. We’ll do something when you get back.”
“I’ll let you know,” I said. “You’re the best, Louise. Thank you for being there for me.”
“Of course. That’s what friends are for.” I thought she was going to hang up, but then she said, “Before you go…” She drew out the words, like she was weighing what she was about to say. “Have you talked to Nate? I saw him at the funeral, but I was surprised he didn’t come say something to you.”
I wasn’t surprised. Disappointed, but not surprised. “Maybe he had to get back to the bookshop.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said. “I’m struggling to understand it. You two are friends.”
“Yeah…”
She heard the hesitation in my voice. “Did you guys have a fight?”
“No, but I had a couple of weird run-ins with him last week.”
“Neither of you have mentioned that,” she said. “What happened? Did you finally tell him you aren’t interested in dating him?”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
She sighed. “Well, it’s obvious you’re not. And not telling him is only going to hurt him.”
I picked up the fork next to my plate and twirled it between my fingers. “You know I’ve told him that I’m not ready and he should date other people.”
“Not being ready and not being interested are two very different things,” she said bluntly, “and you and I both know you’re not interested. If you want to keep his friendship, then you need to tell him before it gets too awkward when you do.”
She was right. While I really liked the idea of having someone like Nate as a significant other, the fact was, he was too normal for me—no matter how much I wished I could be happy with normal. It stung that Malcolm had been the one to point it out last week—bonus points to him that he was right.
“It doesn’t help that I showed up in his bookstore kind of a mess twice last week.”
“What?” she asked in surprise. “What happened?”
