Page 66 of Don't Say a Word
The man stood and extended his hand to her; she took it, feeling awkward. He was dressed in a crisp suit with a faint scent of aftershave around him.
“Angie, Angie, so good to meet you. I saw you at the funeral last week.” He looked her in the eyes as he held her hand, somber and serious. “It was good of you to come.”
“Oh. Yeah, you’re Elijah’s boss,” Angie said.
He nodded and dropped her hand. “I own the Cactus Stop. I also went to Sun Valley High School, many, many years ago.”
“Oh.” What should she say? “I just wanted to see how you were, Mrs. Martinez, and see if you, um, needed anything.”
“I need to go.” Mr. Ramos smiled at Angie, then gave Mrs. Martinez a hug. “Again, Alina, please, anything you need at all, you call. I mean it.”
“You have already done more than I would ever expect.”
“I wish you would let me pay for the investigator you hired.”
Mrs. Martinez shook her head. “No, I cannot accept anything more from you. But thank you for all you’ve done, Mr. Ramos.”
“Manny, I’ve told you, please.” He kissed her cheek. “If you change your mind, Alina, please let me know. You have my direct number.”
“Of course,” she said.
He left, walking down the path toward the street.
“Such a kind, kind man,” Mrs. Martinez said. “Let’s get these lovely flowers in water.” She motioned for Angie to follow her inside. She rummaged for a vase under the sink, then filled it with water. She sighed heavily and Angie saw how tired she was.
“Are you okay?” Angie asked her.
She shrugged. “Nights are hard. I go to daily Mass. Father Rafe is very kind, lets me sit all morning, all day, if I need to. But I’ve gone back to work part-time. I think that’s best. Work will keep my mind occupied.”
“Do you have my phone number? I’m happy to help with anything you need. I can go to the store for you.” She’d have to walk or take the bus since she didn’t have her license, but there was a store not too far.
“You are so kind. You were a good friend to Elijah. I would like your number, because someday, not now, but someday—I’ll go through Elijah’s room. There may be something you want that would help you remember him.”
Angie blinked rapidly. She had never known anyone who’d died. Not someone her age. Not her friend.
But she wouldn’t cry in front of Mrs. Martinez.
She wrote her number down on a pad on the refrigerator.
“Do you have enough food and stuff?” Angie asked. “I can cook maybe if you want.”
“I have so much food people have brought by, my freezer is packed.” To illustrate, she opened the freezer door. Inside were dozens of single-serve frozen meals, some homemade, some store bought. “Sit, you have time?”
Angie had no place to be, so she sat at the small kitchen table.
Mrs. Martinez pulled a can of 7UP from the refrigerator and poured it into a glass for Angie. “I remember this is your favorite, like Elijah.”
Angie took a sip. “I talked to Margo Angelhart today about Elijah.”
“Oh, thank you.” She sat across from Angie, her eyes warm and sad and hopeful. “You helped some?”
“I don’t know, but I answered all her questions.”
“Father Rafe speaks so highly of his family.”
“She was nice. She listened.”
Mrs. Martinez stared over Angie’s shoulder, and for a moment, Angie thought she was going to cry. Then Angie would cry, and she didn’t want to do that.
