“Sounds like the perfect lunch.” I grab my purse and throw the strap over my shoulder. As I walk to the door, I rub my itchy ring finger.
From: angelgirl@me.com
To: isabellawarren@iconic.net
Dear Isabella,
I’m settled into my new place. It’s nice. I’ll have the postcard in my possession soon. You don’t have to worry. Charley will never know her father is anyone different from the man she loved.
Take care,
Harper
5
Another Think Coming
Leo
Josie storms into my apartment without knocking. Her eyes flash with something beyond irritation. She’s ready to rumble. “You were a jerk. You know that, right?” She tosses her bright orange purse onto the sofa and then joins it. Next, she grabs a pillow and tosses it at me in case I’m not paying enough attention to her rant.
“No, I was not. I helped carry the heavy box inside.” Guilt tickles my conscience. I scratch it by remembering how her appearance in the apartment next door can’t be coincidence.
“You know what I mean.”
“What do you know about this girl? You just met her.”
My sister’s eyes narrow. “I know enough to wonder what’s making you act like a total douchebag. And for your information, I met her the other day and know a lot about her already.”
“Really.” I draw out the word and sit in the chair near her. Ah, Josie. She has a heart for strays. She’s like the proverbial cat lady, but with people. You have issues? Josie takes you under her protective wing. She and my ex were friends at one time.
I don’t blame Josie for what happened, but we were both taken in.
“She’s been stalking you, too?”
My question has the desired effect. Josie’s eyebrows lower in a confused dip. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not a bit. Stalking, chasing. Whatever. I mean, come on. Girls like her are exactly like Tori. They go after what they want with a vengeance.”
Her expression changes from confused back to confrontational, her mouth kicking up at the corner. “And just how has she been stalking you? I have to hear this.”
“She eats lunch at Dastardly Bastards when we do.”
“So?” She’s actually grinning now. “How else?”
“She’s has a post office box where I do.”
“Uh huh. It’s probably the closest mailing center.”
My argument feels lame all of a sudden, but I’m not crazy. Dane knows. “Come on. Then she moves in here.”
“Because I told her about the empty apartment when she was in the bookstore.”
“And how did she happen to go to the store my sister owns? See, stalking.”
A delighted bubble of laughter is all I get from Josie. “Gosh. You are an idiot. How does your ego even fit in this room?”
I tamp down the urge to get mad at her amusement. It’ll only feed her delight, as she knows how to push all my buttons. “I’m serious. That woman has been watching me.”
“Has it occurred to you that she might think you’re attractive?”
“Again, stalkers probably think that about the person they stalk.”
“Oh, brother.” Josie rises and strolls over to my kitchen cabinets to begin her usual pilfering for a snack. “She mentioned seeing us together at Dane’s place for lunch one day. She thought you were a famous singer or something like that.”
“That’s a good reason for following me? Because she thinks I’m a singer?”
“Thinking you are a star is a good excuse for looking at you. I can assure you. She’s not a stalker.” Josie pulls a box of crackers from my cupboard. “I think she’s sweet. You should get to know her. We went shopping and to lunch today.”
“Perfect. My sister is now friends with Harper the Stalker.”
“Don’t call her that. I think she’s lonely.”
“Common characteristic of a stalker.”
“There’d be a lot of stalkers in the world if that’s what makes you one. Besides she needed some help.” She pauses and pops a cracker into her mouth.
“She has a husband to help her move in. You have to quit getting into people’s business.”
Josie shakes her head. “Not married.”
“She is. I saw her mail at Letters Express the other day.” I do know something about Harper. Josie’s been blinded by some sort of superficial charm. “She’s is a married woman who’s been following me and—
“Wrong.” Her mouth pinches ruefully at the corners. “She’s a widow.”
“Widow?”
“Yes. Her husband was killed in some accident.”
“Oh.” I stare out the window to avoid looking at Josie. Harper shouldn’t be trying to carry all that stuff by herself. I’d assumed she had manipulated the situation to get Josie’s help. But there is no husband, no parents, friends, or anyone to help her.
She’s all alone.
“Yeah. It’s sad, huh? Remember how we felt after Mom and Dad died?”
There’s a tiny residual clench of my heart, the one that will never go away at the mention of my parents.
“Um hm. What else do you know about her?” My voice is softer now. I picture her pretty features, those eyes that hypnotize me. Her small, high breasts and tight ass. She’s so feminine and frail.
I think about her all alone in this city, prey to guys who don’t know she’s lost a husband, and my feelings shift from suspicion to sympathy.
Josie takes her former position on the sofa and curls her legs underneath her bottom. “She moved here from Tacoma, Washington, but doesn’t know anyone. She used to live in Texas.”
“So, why Nashville?”
“I guess she just likes it here. She’s funny. Leo, I think you’ll get along with her. And she needs friends. Do me a favor and be nice to her. She’s not stalking you.”
I nod at Josie. I’ll make it up to Harper. “OK. You win. Seeing her in so many places was kind of freaky, that’s all.”
“Say I was right.”
“You were more informed.”
“Say I’m always right. Because it’s true. Don’t you think she’s cute?”
I shoot her a warning look. “Josie.”
“It’s about time you stopped moping around and move on. Bad breakups happen. It’s life.”
I gather up my ammunition and shoot with an unfair advantage. I know how to make her back off. “Let’s talk about you and Dane. I think—”
“Shut. Up.” She scolds me with comedic flair and a grin, but she’s conflicted. It’s in the way she’s overly dramatic with her response.
We both lock in a stare—a sign of a truce for as long as I can remember.
Then, she nods at me. “I can’t stick around, but be nice to Harper. Offer a sort of olive branch, because she thinks you don’t like her.”
I roll my eyes to the ceiling and lean my head against the back of my chair. “What do you want me to do? I can’t just go over there. And if I tell her I thought she was watching me…well, I don’t see that as a good start for her as my neighbor.”
“No. Definitely don’t do that. Just go over and take her something. Like food.”
“Like a bag of chips and a six-pack?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Oh, you’re a riot. She’d move out if you did that. Go to Fresh Market and grab some cheeses and a put them in a basket with some crackers. Add a bottle of wine to it.”
“For Pete’s sake, don’t you think that sounds a little…” I wave a hand around, searching for the right word. “A little like a romantic gesture? Cheese and wine? I’m not asking her out. I only want to make her think she’s OK as my neighbor.”
“She might be fooled into thinking you’re cultured. I’d love my neighbor if he brought me that.”
“Don’t need her to love me. Tolerate me? Yes. You’ve got to do better than the cultured argument. What about chips and dip?”