Page 13 of The Icing on the Cake
I try to look offended by what she’s insinuating. “Emmy, I couldn’t help it. He was in the backyard, cutting two-by-fours and …”
“You were checking him out,” she finishes with a sly grin.
“No.” I put a hand up in denial. “I am not interested, if that’s what you’re implying. I only noticed that he’s good-looking because I have functioning eyeballs. But that doesn’t mean I want to date him. I don’t have much faith in the male species.” I start shelving books to avoid her gaze.
“You know, it’s quite the coincidence that Lucian’s your neighbor,” Emmy says. “Maybe you should bring him some cupcakes as a welcome present.”
“Nice try, but he’s been buying cupcakes ever since we met. I’m starting to get suspicious, because a man that ripped is definitelynoteating cupcakes. He’s probably feeding them to squirrels or something.”
“So invite him over on your turf. Welcome him to the neighborhood.”
“That’s the thing…” I pause. “I didn’t tell him where I lived.”
“What?” She shakes her head. “Why?”
“Because he had just told me that he likes his neighbors to keep their space and Mrs. Nelson’s already got him concerned. So, I just told him I lived somewhere ‘close by.’”
“You’re literally next door,” she finishes, then lets out a long exhale. “Neesha. You need to tell him, or he’s going to figure it out eventually.”
“I will. But I don’t want him to know yet.”
“How will you avoid him?” she asks.
“Well, I have a plan.”
“Neesha.” She gives me a look.
“It involves sneaking through the neighbor’s gate so he doesn’t see me coming and going. It’s working out great so far,” I say proudly.
I’m aware this makes me sound slightly unhinged, but when you’ve seen what can happen when the wrong person knows where you live, caution becomes second nature.
She shakes her head. “You’re going to do that all fall? What happens when it snows?”
“Of course I’ll tell him by then,” I say. “I just want to make sure he’s harmless first.”
Emmy’s expression softens. “Neesha, this isn’t about what happened to your mom, is it? Because this doesn’t sound like you just trying to give him space.”
I pause, my shoulders tensing. “Maybe. Partially.”
When I was eight, we moved to Portland for six months, and a customer at her insurance job became obsessed with her. He started showing up at our apartment, leaving gifts, following us to the grocery store. It escalated until we had to get a restraining order and move. That’s when we came back to Maple Falls, and it’s never been a problem since. But I still remember how scared she was, how she’d check the locks three times before bed and peek through the curtains before we left the house.
“Mom always said you can never be too careful about who knows where you live,” I remind her. “Some people seem nice at first, then they change. Mom’s stalker started small, by doing nice things. Then it became a control thing. And she always said the worst part wasn’t the obvious stuff—it was how he made her question her own instincts.”
“But Lucian isn’t some random customer, he’s?—”
“A guy I barely know who’s been unusually interested in my cupcakes,” I interrupt. “And he doesn’t like nosy neighbors. This works out great for both of us.”
“No, I was going to say he’s a good man. He goes out of his way for people. When Mimi needed help, he offered to let her stay in the house and said he’d look after her while he lived there. She chose to move to the assisted living facility anyway—but still, the fact that he offered? That’s just the kind of person he is.”
“Okay, so I know I’m being paranoid, but Mom’s voice is still in my head, telling me to be careful.” I re-focus on shelving books to avoid Emmy’s glare. “After all the anxiety between her stalker and Nate, I do not need another situation where a guy thinks he has some claim on me. I’m perfectly fine living in myworld of ‘men are potentially problematic until proven otherwise,’ thank you very much.”
She sighs, then touches my arm. “I know this is hard. You didn’t deserve any of that. But you don’t need to wonder if Lucian’s okay. Trust me, he’s safe. He’s been visiting Mimi since he arrived in town. And he’s not like Nate in any way, shape, or form. Just ask the others—” Her voice drops off abruptly, like she just realized she said something she shouldn’t have.
“What others?”
“I meant…the people he’s met,” she says, suddenly very interested in rearranging books on a nearby shelf.
“Who else does he know here? I thought he was new to town.” I follow her as she escapes toward the storage room.
