A Million Little Things (Mischief Bay, #3)

They crossed the street and went into the restaurant. It was open and cheerfully lit with plenty of big windows.

“It’s Germany,” Olimpia pointed out. “I say we drink beer to celebrate being here.”

“I’m in,” Eugenia said.

Pam nodded, then excused herself to use the restroom. She walked by the bar. There were several posters on the wall, all of them advertising various liquors. She turned the corner and came face-to-face with a poster for Saldivar tequila that featured a very handsome man she happened to know.

The photograph was maybe ten or fifteen years old, she would guess. Miguel stood by a bar in a tropical setting. His smile was knowing, his posture inviting. She could practically hear his sexy voice murmuring, “Pamela.”

She blinked against unexpected tears, then hurried to the bathroom. On the way back to the table, she looked away from the poster. She’d barely settled in her seat when Olimpia took one look at her and asked, “What happened? Are you all right?”

Her friends stared at her.

“Tell us,” Eugenia said gently. “Aren’t you feeling well?”

Pam pressed her lips together. “I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh.” Laura leaned back in her chair. “We ordered a beer for you, by the way. I hope you like it. And no, we’re not changing the subject. Something’s up. You’ve not been yourself since we left New York. Now talk.”

Pam drew in a breath. “I can’t. You won’t like me anymore.”

The other three women exchanged glances. “I doubt we’re that shallow,” Olimpia said gently. “But if we are, you’re well rid of us.”

Pam felt her eyes fill with tears. She blinked quickly and vowed she would not cry in a foreign country.

Their waitress returned with four large mugs of beer. The women toasted each other and drank before looking back at Pam. She understood that unless she could come up with a convincing lie in the next fifteen seconds, she was stuck with the truth.

“Jen and Steven aren’t speaking to me,” she finally said, staring at the coaster on the wooden table. “I told Steven he was making a huge mistake about Zoe. That he should walk away. I said that getting involved with her would ruin his life. Or words to that effect. Jen told me stay out of it, but I didn’t listen. Plus Zoe is her friend. So she’s mad at me, too. And I’m starting to think maybe she has every right to be.”

Pam looked up at her friends and saw them watching her with expressions of compassion and understanding. “I don’t mean to be a bad person. I don’t. I try to see other people’s sides of things. I like Zoe. I wish her only the best. It’s just... Chad was such a disaster and she’s stuck with him. I don’t want that for Steven. I don’t want him raising someone else’s child. I want him to have what his father and I had. His own baby. No one else’s. I just know this is all going to end badly and Steven will be hurt. I want to keep him safe and I can’t because no one will listen.”

She drank her beer again, then put it down. “But he won’t believe me or listen. He thinks I’m overreacting and then we fought. I said some things...” She shook her head. “I’m so confused and I miss them all.”

“What about Miguel?” Eugenia asked softly.

“Oh, that went badly, too.”

“What do you want?” Laura asked.

“I honestly have no idea. I think for now I’d like to not talk about it.”

“Then we won’t,” Olimpia told her.

They ordered their lunches. Conversation turned to what they’d seen that morning and how the city had changed so completely.

“I want to go to that chocolate shop we saw,” Laura said. “We’ll get dessert there for sure.”

Everyone agreed. Pam thought she might like to take some cocoa home. Lunch came and she ate. Conversation flowed around her. She was quiet, but knew that was okay with her friends. She needed to think right now. She trusted them to give her space.

Before they left, she walked back to the bar and took a picture of the poster of Miguel, then sent it to him with a simple text.

It seems you are everywhere.

It was two in the afternoon in Berlin, so maybe seven in the morning in Mischief Bay. Even so, it took only seconds for his reply to come in.

Is that good or bad?

She hesitated before answering. She wasn’t sure what he was thinking or what she wanted or anything else. She just knew she needed a connection to home and right now Miguel was all she had.

Good, she wrote back. Then she rejoined her friends.

*

The teacher of the Mischief Bay High School AP English class also didn’t have a sub tub for Zoe. Instead she’d left a detailed lesson plan, a list of which students could be counted on to help and some notes to guide the discussion.

“Guess we’re not watching Sky High here either,” Zoe murmured to herself as she went over the information.

The class was studying Shakespeare. Students were allowed to pick their project, as long as it was comprehensive. Either one of his plays or a collection of his poetry. Although she’d taken a class on Shakespeare in college, Zoe had a feeling the AP students were going to challenge her. Something she looked forward to.

The school schedule was in blocks, with different subjects studied on different days, but for longer periods of time. It wasn’t a format Zoe was familiar with. She had two and a half hours with the AP English class this morning, followed by two hours of regular English after lunch. The latter was taking an essay test, followed by an hour of reading a short story collection.

Right on time, her AP students filed into class. They eyed her curiously, but weren’t overtly hostile. She introduced herself, then took roll. She only mangled a few names and a couple of the students helped out with the pronunciation.

Zoe leaned against her desk and glanced at the notes she’d been left. “Jefferson, you’re starting today’s discussion.” She looked down at the paper. “You’re reading A Winter’s Tale, I believe.”

Jefferson, a tall teen, opened his laptop and typed on a few keys. “I am. It’s been interesting because of the change in tone.” He looked at her. “You’ve read it, right?”