Page 23 of The Sea-Mist Cottage Inn
Roman did not seem as anxious for an exit as I was. “You’re welcome. I really am glad you came home, Leo.”
“Why?” The word came out before I took the time to consider if it, or the tone of my voice, or both, was too confrontational or assertive or something, and Roman’s dark eyebrows went up for a second, as if he were indeed surprised with that terse, direct question.
“You were missed,” was his answer. I wanted to ask who’d missed me, but before I could, he added, “I saw Jessie in the shop yesterday.”
That seemed like an answer. I knew Jessie had missed me. Now I began to wonder if she’d been the catalyst somehow for Roman’s visit, but I couldn’t think why. It wasn’t her style to meddle in other people’s lives. Hadn’t been, at least, when we were kids. People change over two decades, sure, but I still couldn’t imagine her meddling.
“Is that unusual?” I knew Jessie was still a meat-eater; we’d had lunch together when she helped us unpack, and burgers had been involved.
“No, no. But I guess you know she’s out of town for a few weeks.”
“Yeah, she told me. One of her art friends has a show opening in New York, and she plans to do some research for her own stuff while she’s there.”
He nodded like he knew as much as I did, and he well might have. “There’s a town council meeting on Thursday night.”
I nodded; I’d seen the notices posted around town.
“She thought you’d want to go to it. If you open the motel back up, you probably need the council on board, but she won’t be here, so ...”
“So she asked you to babysit me at the town council meeting?” I wasn’t worried about the council getting in my way; the mayor had hired a private investigator to bring me back so I could take care of the Sea-Mist. That strongly suggested they wanted me to reopen.
“I don’t think ‘babysit’ is the word she’d use. It’s not the word I’d use, either. She just didn’t want you to be alone if you went to the meeting.”
“And she thought you’d be okay being my ... wingman, or beard, or shield, or something? Do I need one of those?”
“People are talking. You’ll get some attention at the meeting.”
“Talking how?”
He shrugged. “The way people around here talk. Lots of questions about why you came back now, lots of guesses, some things said like facts when they’re just guesses. Gossip, Leo. You’re the star of the town story right now.”
To be completely honest, I was surprised. A week ago, as we were headed here, I wouldn’t have been, but now I’d been in town a few times already. To Catherine’s, and the Granary, and O’Grady’s. I’d been in Roman’s store, and I’d run into Grundy & Sons Dry Goods for some nails and screws. Grundy’s is like if Walmart was hit by a shrink ray.
I’d seen probably three dozen people I knew or thought I’d recognized. About half of those had said hi or nodded or otherwise acknowledged my existence in some pleasant, harmless way. Exactly five people I’d known before had really engaged with me: Catherine, Roman, Jessie, Peter Greyfather, and Erin, who was the only person in Bluster who’d been openly hostile.
Oh, and the lighthouse guy, but he’d never known me, so he didn’t count.
I’d taken that to mean my disappearance had not been as scandalous as I’d always thought. I’d begun to think that people had either understood more than I’d realized, or cared less.
But it was so very much worse. People were talking about me behind my back, and pretending to be pleasant to my face. That could be a nuclear level of scandal. It was less dangerous for the people of Bluster to be openly hostile than to be outwardly and vaguely nice. In the way of all gossips, they did their nastiest talking amongst themselves while they smiled pleasantly at their subject.
Jessie, of course, knew that, and she was in a position to know what was being said. The same went for Roman. They were banding together at my back.
I dropped to sit on the bottom step. “How bad is it?”
Roman sighed, then gestured at the step beside me. When I nodded, he sat.
I’m pretty sure it was the closest we’d ever been in physical space, but at that particular moment, I wasn’t thinking about his hotness or my not-so-dormant old crush.
“I honestly don’t know how bad. You know how that kind of talk is—people have different opinions. But your mom said a lot of stuff after you left. You’ve been a recurring town story all this time, and it got worse when Marilyn got sick. Then you weren’t back for the funeral—”
“I didn’t know she’d been sick or died.” I doubt I would have come home if I had, but I didn’t say that aloud.
He made a short sound like an almost-chuckle. “Then Marilyn was cooking up some stories for sympathy, because she said she’d begged you to come home and you told her you hoped she’d die quick. We all thought you’d been in touch the whole time you were away and were refusing to come home.”
Now I made one of those almost-chuckles. “Typical,” I muttered. “For what it’s worth, I had no contact at all with my mom from graduation day forward. The first I heard from anyone in Bluster in all those years was when Mayor Holt’s private detective found me about two years ago. Then I found out she was dead and had no will, so I’d inherited this place.”
“But you didn’t come home then.”
