Secrets in a Still Life, Kari Ganske [best fiction books to read .TXT] 📗

think I allowed him to eat at my table," and worried about my mental health. "Do you want me to bring you some tea? Or a warm compress?" I assured them I was fine and not officially under arrest. After promising to keep them in the loop, I disconnected and braced myself to call Colleen.

A simple, heartfelt apology worked with Linc—along with crying like a blubbering baby on his shoulder—so that would be my approach with Colleen as well. Minus the crying.

Of course, I forgot Colleen was an actual adult with an actual real job, so I got her voice mail. I left a message for her to call me back.

I gave myself a little pep talk to get back on my bike for a ride to the store. I desperately needed those earplugs if I ever wanted to sleep again. I should probably also look for another chair or some sort of table.

Colleen called me back when I was headed back from the store. I'd found earplugs and some more bread but struck out on the furniture.

"Hey," I breathed into the phone, steering with one hand. "Thanks for calling me back."

"Sure. What's up?" Colleen's voice sounded clipped and irritated. Not a great start.

I pulled over and stopped the bike. "I wanted to apologize for being an idiot. I've been in a funk since I've been home, and I'm sorry for taking it out on you."

"Go on," Colleen said, her voice softening a little.

"Being bitter about being here has nothing to do with Piney Ridge and everything to do with my expectations for my life. I love Piney Ridge. That's why I chose here to sulk back to. I'm an insufferable snobby grouch. But that stops now."

"I'm still listening," Colleen said. I could hear a small smile in her voice.

"And to make up for it, I'll buy you Scoop’s milkshakes for a month," I offered.

"Deliver them to work when I ask?"

"As soon as I get my car back," I promised.

"And you get to listen to me complain about things next time we have lunch."

"Deal. I really am sorry, Colleen."

"I forgive you. And I'm sorry for calling you a snob."

"I was a snob! And I needed someone to call me out on being one."

"What are friends for?" Colleen asked, echoing Linc's statement from earlier. I hadn't had true friends in such a long time, I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

"Hey, are you busy tonight?" I asked.

I told Colleen about Missy's memorial. She agreed to meet Linc and I there. As I disconnected, I felt a weight lifting from my shoulders. Sure, I was currently, technically, the primary suspect in a murder, but the people whom I cared about most believed in me. With my family and friends by my side, I felt like I could conquer anything.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 29

 

 

 

Little black dress? Check.

Styled, curled hair? Check.

Subtle, classy makeup? Check.

Killer high heels? Check.

Although maybe I should alter that last description given the circumstances for wearing said heels. I paced up and down the hallway of my loft, both to practice walking in the heels, which I didn't wear that often, and because I was antsy about tonight.

Linc texted a while ago to say seven o'clock was still a go. I had three minutes until I lost my mind.

Was I crazy for going? I was accused of Missy's murder. Even if the entire town believed in my innocence, which I highly doubted, showing my face at the memorial was a bold move.

On the other hand, if I didn't go, would that make me appear more guilty? Maybe I could hide behind Colleen and Linc—like sort of burrow into their backs. Maybe I should exchange my heels for flats so I was even smaller.

A honk from the parking lot startled me out of my contemplations. Too late now. Before I could change my mind, I grabbed my camera bag and started out the door. Linc waited at the bottom of the steps; I stopped midway down when I saw him. Since I'd been home, I'd only seen him in T-shirts and either jeans or his station-issued pants. He usually left his mass of dark hair unruly in a sort of purposeful bedhead look.

Now he wore a tailored, button-down shirt the color of his eyes with a sports coat overtop. Except for one rebellious strand that fell into his eyes, he'd tamed his thick, dark hair into waves. He looked up when he heard my heels click-clack on the wooden steps and placed a hand on his chest. His expressive gray eyes lit up as he gifted me one of his fully charged megawatt smiles.

"Sexy Lexi," he said on a breath. "All grown up."

I did a slow turn on the steps, swiveling my head to be able to see his reaction when he saw the back of the dress. Or rather lack of the back of my dress. Although the front was demure, the back dipped down from my shoulders into a V just below my waist, leaving the expanse of my back bare. It was one of the few dresses I owned and, truth be told, was more club than funeral. Still, I'd argue my backless black dress was still more appropriate than any crazy pattern I would have borrowed from my mother. Besides, I'd brought a cardigan to slip overtop when we got to the Vandenburgs' house.

When I finished my twirl, Linc held out his hand to me. I placed mine in it and he helped me down the rest of the steps.

"You look beautiful, Alex," he said, giving me another sweep of his eyes from head to siren-red painted toes.

I didn't want to admit how much I needed that compliment. Rick was more about corrections than compliments.