Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125117 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Disappointment ripped through Truman to hear that it wasn’t Agatha Tark. Then a small voice that sounded very much like Charlotte said, Hey, dipshit, ever heard of a pen name?
“Marlene was my dear friend,” Julia said. “I was devastated when she stopped coming.” She chuckled. “Didn’t socialize. That’s an understatement. She couldn’t stand most people. Don’t know why she let me befriend her. Maybe I was just persistent enough.”
“Was she…um.” Truman swallowed hard. “Was she working on a book when you knew her?”
“Oh yes, she was always working on something. She would not pick up the phone or answer the door until three p.m. because she was writing. But whenever I’d ask her to read what she wrote, she said no. I asked her what her book was about, and she said it was none of my business.” Julia chuckled fondly.
“Holy crap,” Truman breathed. “Agatha Tark. Um, do you know where she went when she stopped coming to Owl Island?”
“No, I never knew much about her life outside the summers. She didn’t keep in touch during the rest of the year, but then there she’d be, come June first, like clockwork. Until one year, she just didn’t come. I never heard from her again.”
Ash shrugged on his coat and, holding the wrapped bouquet of flowers, put his hand on Julia’s shoulder. “Can I walk you home, Mom?”
Julia turned to Truman and raised a honey-brown eyebrow, as if to say, Isn’t my son sweet and overprotective? She took forty dollars out of her wallet and placed it on the counter. Then she held her arm out to Ash.
When he opened his mouth to complain, Julia covered it long enough to say, “Goodbye, Capote.” Then she swept out of Thorn, Ash trailing in her wake.
Chapter 21
Greta
Carys collapsed onto Greta’s bed, arms out, with a groan. Horse licked at her hand sympathetically. She’d been holed up at Greta’s for the last forty-eight hours, grading all the math finals for her students.
“Five left. Only five left, then I’m on break. I can feel my soul attempting to leave my body.”
Carys never sat on chairs properly. She always sat cross-legged or with one knee up, or she contorted into uncomfortable-looking positions on the floor.
Greta, who was reading a mystery she’d bought at the cute used bookstore she found the other day, lying next to her, stroked her hair. Carys had been balancing a clipboard on her lap, and when she’d collapsed, the clipboard had landed on the pillow.
“Want to take a break? I’ve gotta take Horse for a walk.”
Carys groaned again.
“Nah. I wanna push through. I’m gonna finish these and then I’m gonna get ice cream and not think about my students for three glorious weeks.”
Greta kissed her goodbye and slipped out the door with Horse. She’d loved having Carys staying with her the last two days. They’d made dinner together and watched movies when Carys took breaks. Greta had gotten to see what Carys looked like in the shower and see her hair long down her back spring up into curls as it dried.
It felt…intimate. Private.
Greta let Horse lead her through the streets of the Marigny. It was late afternoon and the light was beginning to turn peach at the edges. Greta was filled with a deep sense of satisfaction. Fulfillment she’d never had before.
She popped into a corner store to buy ice cream for Carys’ end of exams celebration. She didn’t know what kind Carys liked best, so she bought four and headed for home.
Carys was back at work, this time on the floor.
Greta held up the bag of ice cream.
“I wasn’t sure what kind you like, so I got a few.” She crouched on the floor and kissed Carys. “Do you want some now?”
Carys blinked, her expression unreadable. “No, I was going to go out and get some when I finished.”
“Yeah, that’s why I got it.”
Greta put the four pints in the freezer and settled back on the bed.
“That was a sweet thought, Greta, but like I told you, I wanted to do that when I was done. It was going to be like a marker of finishing, and I always go to this place and get a cone.”
Something tightened in Greta’s stomach.
“Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to mess up your tradition.”
“It’s okay—you didn’t know. We can still go get cones and eat that later.”
“Okay,” Greta said. She’d never done something nice for someone and had them reject it before. Carys said it was fine, but Greta felt uneasy.
An hour later, Carys threw down her clipboard and crawled into bed with Greta.
“I’d like to thank the academy for giving me this honor,” she murmured to no one. Then she threw an arm over Greta’s stomach and kissed her neck.
“Hi. You done?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Congratulations, yay.”
“Thanks,” Carys garbled. She nuzzled in closer.
“Did you wanna go get your ice cream cone to celebrate?”