Emma raced me to the kitchen, where I let her out and made a pot of coffee. I’d just had time to brush my teeth and pull my hair into a ponytail when I heard the knock on the door. Greg stood on the porch, petting Emma when I peeked out the side window, another resolution I’d made in the wee hours of morning.
“What are you doing out so early?” I swung open the door and he stepped into the living room, pulling me into a tight hug and covering my mouth with his own.
When he pulled back, I saw the smile on his face. “Good morning, beautiful.”
A buzzing sound filled my ears, and all of a sudden, I was back in bed. Emma put her cold nose on my cheek, and my alarm was blaring. Greg’s kiss still felt warm on my lips. I needed to talk to him today. I dragged myself out of bed, the sunshine not warming my face as brightly as it had in my dream, and went to let Emma out, for what seemed to be the second time that morning.
I sat with my cup of coffee and made up a to-do list. I had to make a third trip into Bakerstown in the last two days, this time for groceries. My cupboard and Emma’s bag of dog food was down to crumbs. The only things I had in my fridge were the leftover cheesecakes I’d brought home from the store on Sunday and a bag of caramel-flavored coffee beans. I could make it another day or two, but Emma would be hunting down small animals in the yard. Which might just include Esmeralda’s cat, Maggie, if she pulled her Houdini act again today.
I planned for two weeks of healthy dinners, adding in a few necessities, like a bag of kettle-cooked chips and a few bags of fun-size candy bars. The only thing fun about the bags was how long it took you to unwrap the things. But I liked having one or two after a run, just to keep my blood sugar up.
Oh, the lies I told myself. I went through the kitchen, laundry room, and bathroom, to make sure I didn’t need any other supplies, and when I was done, I had a complete list.
I glanced at the clock. If I threw a load of laundry into the washer, I’d have time for a run with Emma to clear my head. Then I could stop by the police station, and with a bit of luck, Greg would be at his desk and we could talk.
The beach was empty, mostly due to the hour and the fact that the tourists this time of year tended to be weekenders. They were all back in their cubicles by now, making money for their next trip, while I got to enjoy the sound of the gulls and splashing waves any day of the week. After a few minutes, I let Emma off the leash and we ran side by side to the large rock. The cliffs started a few steps more and I sat on the beach, getting my breath back and watching Emma explore the water. The gulls kept flying over her, wondering what this dog was doing on their turf and probably hoping she’d find something they could eat after we left.
Sitting there, I thought about my dream that morning. I’d been convinced I needed to keep away from investigating, not only for my own sake, but for the people I loved. Greg would be happier, I knew that. And what kind of example was I setting for Aunt Jackie, who just got arrested for her own detective work? But I realized it didn’t matter. My natural curiosity was part of me. And probably something I’d inherited from my aunt. I knew what I was going to say to Greg this morning, and for once, I felt confident about the discussion.
Looking back on the Tiger book, its ideas had been out of my comfort zone, because they weren’t me. I wasn’t aggressive, or in your face. I was me. And that was enough. Curious, determined, headstrong, and caring. I stood up and brushed the sand off my running shorts. Maybe I had just found the secret to happiness: being true to yourself.
As Emma and I ran back to the parking lot and the rest of my day, I thought about what I enjoyed and hoped that Greg would see my epiphany as a good thing, rather than the straw that broke the camel’s back. Either way, we needed to talk.
Showered and changed into jeans and a peasant blouse, I started the Jeep and took a right to go into South Cove. At the police station, Esmeralda sat at the desk reading a biography of a recent First Lady. The woman had become a good customer, even if I had to order in most of her choices. There wasn’t much of a market for the books she enjoyed, but that was the good thing about reading. You didn’t have to follow the trends. You could read anything you wanted. And the dispatcher /fortune-teller did. The one thing I never ordered for her was what I’d expected, the magical arts books.
“How’s the story?” I nodded toward the book. I’d been interested in how anyone could have stood by her man in such a public way, but not enough to actually read the biography.
She smiled and put a bookmark into the book, laying it on the counter. “I never knew how much she’d struggled, even before becoming First Lady. That’s one job I’d never want. Too many people up in your business.”
“Kind of like living in a small town, right?” I joked.
Esmeralda cocked her head. “I wasn’t going to ask how your aunt was, but since you brought it up. What the heck was she thinking?”