Jasmine pokes her head out. “Hey, what—”
I block her view with my body and hustle her back inside. “None of your business, kiddo,” I say, closing the door with my back. “Go wait in the living room, please.”
She cocks her head. Considers. “Okay.”
“I’ll make sure she stays inside. Bryce has some more questions.”
The sheriff has taken some photos. “I’ll ask the lab about the squirrel, see if they got anything. Don’t hold your breath—things take a while here. Not like LA.”
I nod. “I grew up here, you know.”
“In the meantime, I assume you have an alarm system?”
“I’ve had a problem with it, I think. But—”
Joel raises a hand with a plastic bag of various parts. “That’s what I’m here for.”
“I’d suggest making sure it’s on all the time.”
This does not make me feel better, but I remember Maui barking wildly when Joel arrived yesterday. Maybe Phoebe would let me borrow him until they figure out who is targeting me.
Again. As if it’s happening right now, I see the trash on my sidewalk, feel the sun on my face as I walk toward it—
Sweat breaks across my brow and down my neck, and I force myself to take in a long, slow breath. Hold it for a count of four. Breathe out slowly. Joel walks Bryce to his car, and they exchange a few words. I continue the breathing until he comes back up the steps. “Did the men get things all straightened out?” I say with an edge of annoyance.
To my surprise, he smiles ever so slightly, and claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, girlie.” His tone is sardonic. “The boys got you covered.”
My nerves are shaking but calmer now. “Come on in. Want some tea?”
“Coffee?”
His request kindles the softest puff of . . . yearning? Peace? “I might have some.”
Jasmine dances out into the kitchen, a drawing in her hand. “Look! Maui and Yul Brynner.”
The cat is especially good, with an exaggerated mask and anime eyes, and she’s captured something goofy about Maui. “Sweetheart, this is amazing!” I curl a hand around her neck, feeling her thick hair, and suddenly feel Beryl all around me, the sense of her bosomy body, the softness of leaning into her. I can almost smell her, fog and ocean and hints of oil paint.
Time, I think. Rivers of time we can only ride forward. I kiss Jasmine’s head.
Phoebe says, “We should probably get back. I have to finish some work.”
“Can I stay here with Maui?”
“No, Suze has things to do, too.” She gives me a look over Jasmine’s head that I can’t quite interpret. I know enough to back her up. “But Maui can stay.” She looks at me. “If you want him to.”
“Oh, yes, please.”
“Come on!” Jasmine says. “Why can’t I stay, too?”
“Joel and I have some things to do here,” I say. “I’ll come find you guys later. They said it might be sunny this afternoon. Maybe we can all walk on the beach? Have your nana show off her tide pool knowledge.”
“Okay.” She leans close and hugs me with her whole body, unselfconscious, her head against my meager chest. Beryl was probably much nicer to sink into.
“You okay?” Phoebe asks.
I nod.
“Come find us later.” She hugs me, too. I smell hints of Beryl, but also the fullness of Phoebe herself, intensified as if her body temperature is higher. I think of Ben holding her and something in me lightens.
“I will.”
They leave me and Joel standing in the kitchen, alone. I stick my hands in my back pockets, not quite able to look away from his sober, kind face. A thousand tiny moments and dozens of big ones wash around my brain, making my heart flutter wildly. I swallow. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too.” His eyes soften. I notice his throat, and he swallows. His tone is gruff when he says, “How about that coffee?”
It takes a few minutes to locate the coffeemaker, and another couple to dig coffee out of the freezer. It’s good to have something to do with my hands. “I hope this is still good,” I comment, examining it. “I bought it over the summer.”
“It’ll be fine. I’m not that picky.”
“You don’t like tea.”
“Nope.” He gives me a half smile. “But if it’s trouble, you don’t have to bother.”
“Well, I’m all in now,” I say, pointing to the coffee grinder I’ve also pulled out.
“I see that.” He dips his head toward the utility room. “I’m going to take a look at that alarm while you’re doing that.”
“Thank you.” Pale light casts gloss over the part of his hair, throws into relief the crow’s-feet around his eyes. “It really will make me feel better to have it working.”
He nods. I step sideways to let him by, and as he passes, I take a breath to inhale his scent, startled that it’s exactly the same.
Before he entirely passes me, he stops. “Sorry about being so aloof all day yesterday. It’s a little weird to see you.”
“It is weird. I mean—” I shake my head. There’s so much between us, so many things we never had the chance to sort out that there’s almost no way to approach them. And yet I’m hungry to hear about him. His life. His thoughts. “How are you, Joel?”
He looks out the window, and I see a dozen things cross his face. “Good and bad. How about you?”
I spread my hands. “Same.”
He moves into the utility room, and I grind beans, wash the pot, fill it up with water. The smell of coffee must be one of the headiest in the world, but it transports me, always, to the fellowship hall at my father’s church. I was often the one making it, serving it, cleaning it up. Maybe that’s the reason I still don’t drink it. Like cooking, it reminds me of things I don’t ever want to think about again.
Some of Phoebe’s cranberry bread is wrapped up on the counter. When I start slicing it, Maui trots into the kitchen, his tags jingling. Hope gives him a big toothy grin. “Dogs don’t need bread,” I say, but look in the fridge for something more appropriate. “They can have turkey, though.”
He slurps it up. Waits for more. Yul Brynner leaps lightly onto the counter for his share, and I give him some tidbits, too. They both stare at me, and I laugh. “It’s not time.”
Joel returns. “The alarm is very outdated. I don’t think the software is supported any longer.”
“That explains a lot,” I say, leaning on the counter. I almost cross my arms and stop in time. I don’t want to appear to be defensive, and the actor side of me knows that I need to keep my body open and relaxed if I want him to feel that way. Or maybe all this is silly. It’s been decades. We’ve both had lives.
Be normal, I say to myself. Treat him like any old friend. “What do you want in your coffee?”
“Just black.”
I pour a cup and offer the plate of sliced bread, picking a piece up as I curl into the banquette, my feet under me. Yul Brynner trots over, tail high, and settles behind me, smelling my ear. Maui huffs and lies down on the floor. I feel like I have a team.
Joel gingerly perches on the other side of the table, and studies me as he sips the coffee. “It’s strange to see you in person after seeing you on screens.”
“Did you see my movies?”
He nods. “A few.” Inclines his head. “All.”
I grin. “Really?”
“Of course. You’re the only famous person I know, and I liked watching you grow up and become this . . . powerful person.”
It feels impersonal, but what did I expect? “Thank you for that.”
“But you don’t actually look the same in person. I mean, I guess nobody does.”
“Right. There’s a lot of artifice in the screen version.”
He meets my eyes. “The real-life version is a little less intimidating.”
That’s a lot closer to what I might be seeking. My heart is racing a little, and when I reach for a napkin, my hands are shaking. Pulling back into my body, I take a breath.
“Are you okay?”