Page 68 of A Spot of Tea
“What?” A gust of salted air blew into his eyes. “I’m not the robber!”
“How can I be sure?”
The wind wouldn’t let up. He jerked his head, trying to keep it out of his eyes. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me? You really think I’ve been robbing banks and forgot to tell you?”
Her phone buzzed and she pulled it from her pocket. The screen lit her face for a moment as she typed a message.
Waves crashed into the shore, foaming the smooth rocks. Thunder rumbled in the distance.
She tucked the phone back into her pocket. “What I think is that either way, you’re going to leave, so it doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’tmatterif I’m the robber?” A swell built in his chest. His breathing picked up. “Are you hearing yourself right now?”
“Either you are the robber and you’re going to fly off with your bag of money. Or you’re not and we’ll find him, then you’ll fly off with your bag of money.”
“So that’s what you think of me?” He was shouting now, over the wind, over his anger. “That I’m just a guy flying away with a bag of money?”
“I don’t mean it like that.”
She stepped forward, her arm outstretched, as he stepped back.
“What can you possibly mean, then? You think I’m a bank robber, Eliza. You think I’m the lowest of the low, that I’ve been using you.”
“No! I’m saying I can’t even think straight because I know you’re going to leave.”
“Yeah, sure.” He shoved his hands into his coat pockets. His fingertips were ice against the smooth lining. “If you didn’t want me to leave, then why did you cut me out of everything?”
She turned her head toward the cottage. Joey stopped to listen. A voice rode the wind like a whisper, calling her name.
“You’d better go,” he said. “Wouldn’t want anyone to think I was stealing from you.”
Her mouth fell open. “Joey.”
He spun on his heel and started walking, each footstep heavy in the rocks.
When he reached the twist of trees, he turned around. Eliza was gone. There was nothing but the strip of beach in front of him, the downpour blending the horizon with the darkened sea.
Twenty-five
Granny first tried to herd them into her car, but Mackenzie insisted on getting Eliza.
She ran up the stairs in the cottage, shouting. “Eliza! We need to talk!”
No response. She flung open the doors to their room, then the bathroom. Silence except for the rumbling of the incoming storm.
She thundered down the stairs. “She’s gone! Missing! Kidnapped, maybe!”
“There’s no need to work yourself in a tizzy,” Granny said, slowly removing her coat. “Why don’t you use that phone you’re always staring at and call her?”
“If I call her, she’ll think someone died. It’s not that dire.” She pulled out her phone and sent a text.
Where are you?
The response came back in seconds.
I went for a walk on the beach.
A cool pulse spread over Mackenzie’s chest. So she hadn’t been arrested or kidnapped, at least not yet.
