Page 152 of Secrets Along the Shore
“Thanks,” I say, “but I’ve got this.”
The sound of pounding footfalls hurtling toward us draws my attention up to Jake, running to our table, a grin splitting his face.
Curiosity bursts inside my chest. “Tell me everything.”
“You should have seen it!” Jake bellows, his bright eyes full of excitement. “Totally got him!” He drops into the empty chair beside me.
“What happened?” I ask.
“This is about the kid stealing your lunch?” James asks.
Jake nods vigorously. “Sophie came up with the best idea!” He turns to me. “So I put my backpack on the hook like always and thenduring class, Dale’s all, ‘Can I go to the bathroom?’ Ms. Palmer lets him and then…” Jake smacks his hand on the table. “Dale is screaming.He’s going crazy because his hands are all purple and he’s rubbing them together and it’s”—Jake’s belly-laughing now—“only getting worse! He’s yelling at me, ‘He did it! He turned my hands purple!’ And I say, ‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t be stealing other people’s lunches.’”
James and I both laugh, and when I cut my eyes to James, his are twinkling. “That’s so awesome,” he says.
Jake’s little legs dance in place. “I know. Dale got a week of recess detention. Best. Day. Ever.”
“What about you?” I ask. “You get in trouble?”
“Ms. Palmer called Gigi. She said she had to, but I could tell Ms. Palmer thought it was great. I didn’t lose one recess.”
“I’ll bet Dale’s parents didn’t think it was great,” James says, the corner of his mouth still hitched up.
“I don’t care. I’m, like, the most popular kid in the class now. You’re the best, Sophie.” Jake jumps up, wraps me in a tight hug, then quickly releases me. “I gotta go. Gigi wants me to finish my homework by seven. But she told me I could say thanks.” As he speeds off, I scan the room for Grace. She’s talking to some diners at their table and when her gaze meets mine, she winks.
James squeezes my hand, drawing my focus back to him. “I guess that settles it,” he says. “You’re the best, Sophie.”
I squint my eyes as the corner of my mouth rises. “About time you figured that out.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY
In the morning,the first thing I do after nudging Bilbo off the bed is grab my phone. My hopes that something would develop overnight are quickly doused when I see I have no messages. Not only does it mean there likely hasn’t been any headway made in Kamden’s case at the sheriff’s department, it also means Goat hasn’t located the site of Kamden’s last photo.
After breakfast—a second cup of coffee and scrambled eggs with salsa and sour cream (don’t hate it until you’ve tried it)—I call Sheriff Vickers’s office. He’s not in, but his assistant tells me there’s still no word on L.A. Haynes’s location, and John Parry remains unconscious, though stable, in the hospital.
Bilbo whines as I hang up the phone, sidling up to me and pressing his head against my leg, the way he does when he wants attention. I have been out more than usual, and even though James and my landlords have stepped in where they can, Bilbo is a momma’s boy.
“How about a walk, bud?”
With his stubby tail wagging so hard it’s sending his rear end into a cha-cha, Bilbo squeezes through his doggie door. I race to find my sneakers, throw them on, and go after him.
There’s a light fog hovering in the air and the temperature has dropped. The result is a misty scene with an ethereal quality reminiscent of a haunting English countryside. It’s the kind of day that makesme want to lace up my hiking boots, grab my Canon, and explore the woods with Bilbo.
But I don’t have time for that today. This walk is the only down time I’ll get.
From the bottom of my driveway, I spot the Dunmores’ two-story red brick house. It’s been more than a week since I’ve spoken to them, which is pretty unusual. I decide a quick visit is overdue. People are important, and if you don’t schedule time for them, someday you might find they aren’t available anymore.
I turn on a trajectory for their house, stepping into the wet grass, which immediately has its way with my sneakers. A cardinal squawks at me, apparently angry I’ve shown up here, concerned I’m up to no good. I assure him I’m not a danger to him, although that's not quite true because Bilbo’s with me, and he’s been known to chase birds. Though, much to his disappointment, he’s never caught any I’m aware of.
The Dunmores are fantastic landlords, always have been, with a healthy respect for my privacy. That’s not to say Ellen won’t stop by with the occasional loaf of sourdough fresh out of the oven. But they don’t come knocking for no reason.
I wouldn’t mind if they did. They’re such lovely people, and were instrumental in making sure I didn’t starve after Daniel passed. When Ellen realized I was living off coffee and protein bars, she brought me freezer meals each week for three months, and Grady grilled meat for me every Sunday. I told them not to, but they didn’t listen.
I love that about them.
They’re also big buds with Bilbo. When Bilbo spots Grady on his patio, Bilbo takes off for him, barking. When he reaches Grady, he starts whining and wiggling at his side, begging for pets. Grady obliges, turning away from the smoking oil drum in the center of the patio. He uses it to make the best barbecue I’ve ever tasted. And yes, I fully comprehend that it is not the safest, cleanest, or healthiest way to make it.
