3 Buried Leads Read online

  When I got out of my car, I made sure to walk past his store so he could see me if he was working. I was disappointed to see a young woman working behind the counter instead of Eliot.

  The easy thing to do would be for me to call him. I never do things the easy way, though. I never have. Instead, I made my way to the bridal shop – called New Beginnings – and entered.

  The minute I walked into the store I felt like I was being smothered by white taffeta and chiffon. Blech.

  “Good, you’re here.”

  I turned to see Carly standing in the middle of the store and tapping her foot impatiently. She didn’t look happy to see me. I saw her glance at her watch and fix me with a hard glare. “And you’re only ten minutes late. That must be some sort of record for you.”

  “I had to file a story,” I protested lamely.

  “You always have to file a story,” she said, striding forward and fixing her hand on my elbow securely. “If I had to guess, it’s more like you were still groveling for your boss to forgive you.”

  She knew me too well.

  “I was not,” I lied.

  “And now you’re lying.”

  I bit my lip. I hated it that she knew me so well. Instead, I decided to distract her with something shiny – or lilac, whatever. “So, where’s the dress? I can’t wait to try it on.”

  Carly regarded me with her cool green eyes for a second. “That was pretty good. Keep that up while she’s here.”

  “While who is here?”

  “The Wicked Witch of the Midwest,” she whispered in my ear.

  Oh, no. Carly’s future mother-in-law was here. The woman really was the devil. When Carly first started complaining about her, I thought she was exaggerating. After meeting her a few times, I now think she was downplaying it. My mom is the master of the subtle insult. This woman is just flat out mean.

  “Where is she?” I cast my gaze around the room wildly. I wondered, briefly, if I could escape the bridal shop without being seen.

  Carly must have read my mind. “Don’t you even think about leaving me alone with that woman.”

  “I think I forgot to add something to my story,” I lied.

  “You did not. Don’t be a pain in the ass.”

  Crap.

  “Oh, I see she finally arrived.” The voice was like nails on a chalkboard. I had only met Kyle’s mom, Harriet, a few times. Her voice was the stuff of nightmares, though. That clipped, disapproving tone could shrivel the balls of an elephant.

  I turned stiffly and took in Harriet. She was in all her glory – again. She was wearing a pressed pink suit that looked like something she had found at a garage sale at Elizabeth Taylor’s house. She was a painfully thin woman, with chalk white skin and pale rose lips. Her makeup was perfect – as usual – and her short brown pageboy was impeccably coiffed. There wasn’t a hair out of place.

  I caught a glimpse of myself in one of the shop’s many mirrors. My shoulder length blonde hair looked like it had been through a wind tunnel. I swallowed hard. “Hello Mrs. Profit,” I forced out. “It is so good to see you again.”

  “I’m sure it is, dear,” she clucked. “I told you to call me Harriet. You are Carly’s best friend, after all. I wasn’t impressed with that fact, as you know, but my son seems genuinely fond of you, so you can’t be that bad.”

  I wondered, briefly, if she would feel the same way if I shoved my new Converse up her ass. Carly pushed me forward. “She’s here to make sure the dress fits,” Carly said.

  “Yes,” I lied. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Carly narrowed her eyes at me. She could tell I was lying. I doubted the ever oblivious Harriet Profit was aware of that fact, though. Even if she was, I had a hard time caring. If I never saw this woman again after the wedding, I would consider myself lucky.

  “It’s a beautiful dress,” Harriet admitted. “Carly did a good job picking it out.”

  Carly basked in the momentary moment. This woman rarely had anything nice to say about her.

  “Of course,” Harriet continued. “You should have probably taken Avery’s body type into consideration when you picked the dress.”

  What did that mean?

  Carly narrowed her eyes dangerously. “What did you just say?” Carly may have been desperate to please this woman, but she was loyal to a fault. She could badmouth me all she wanted, but if anyone else did it they should be ready to have their eyes clawed out.

  Harriet pursed her lips. “I wasn’t saying anything bad,” she countered. “She’s just a little hippy. She can’t help it. It was the way she was born.”

  I think Harriet thought she was being nice. Carly disagreed. “She’s not hippy. She’s perfectly healthy.”

  Harriet looked me up and down dubiously. I could tell she wanted to argue the point, but she wasn’t going to fight in public. Harriet was all about outward appearances.

  Despite the fighting stance she had taken, Carly decided to let it go – for now. I had no doubt this was going to become a “thing” later that night. Carly pushed me towards the changing room, shoving the lilac monstrosity in my hand as I went. “Don’t dawdle in there,” she warned me. “Let’s just get this over with. If you draw this out longer than you need to, I’m not going to be happy.”

  I couldn’t agree more. I slipped into the dress, glancing at myself in the mirror and grimacing. Now that Harriet had called me hippy, that was all I could focus on. Great. Something new to obsess about.

  I stepped out of the dressing room and found Carly sitting in a chair outside. She was randomly shooting a series of patented glares in Harriet’s direction when she was sure the older woman wasn’t looking.

  Harriet turned when she heard the sound of the curtain being pulled back. “It fits,” she sighed in relief.

  “Why wouldn’t it?”

  “Well, Carly says you like to eat, so I was a little worried they would have to let the dress out.”

  It’s not like I eat a cow everyday. The first dress fitting had been a month ago. It’s not like I’d ballooned into a beach ball in the intervening weeks. Carly got to her feet and regarded me with a genuine smile. “You look great,” she exhaled in relief.

  I narrowed my eyes as I regarded her. “Did you think it wouldn’t fit, too?”

  “No,” Carly hastily responded. “I just wanted to make sure the dress looked as good in person as it did in my mind.”

  What a liar.

  “You look really good,” she repeated.

  “Yes,” Harriet agreed. “The color really suits your skin tone. You look so much better now that your garish tan is fading.”

  I hadn’t been insulted this much since my mother had seen my new “Fuck you, you fucking fuck” shirt from The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo.

  “Can I take this off now?” I couldn’t get out of this shop quick enough at this point.

  “Of course, dear,” Harriet waved me off. I saw her glance slip to my Goonies socks and the slight, almost imperceptible shake of her head.

  I quickly slipped back into my jeans, T-shirt and hoodie and exited the store with the dress in my hand. I had already paid for it -- $250 that I would have much rather spent on new Converse and video games – and I was ready to get out of this hellish situation.

  I froze when I heard Harriet start talking to Carly a few feet away. “What are you going to do for shoes?”

  “We’re having heels dyed,” Carly said.

  This was the first I had heard of that. “Those ugly satiny ones you showed me? I didn’t agree to that.”

  “You’ll be fine,” Carly shushed me.

  “How do you even know what size shoes I wear?”

  “You have huge feet. You’re always complaining about how huge your feet are. You’ve got seventy pairs of shoes in your laundry room – and they’re all the same size – stop being ridiculous.”

  “I’m changing into something comfortable at the reception,” I grumbled under my breath.

  “I’m sure th
e dress will look great with canvas high tops,” Harriet clucked sarcastically.

  If I had a hammer, I’d totally throw it at her right now.

  Five

  Harriet left the store before Carly. I could tell Carly wanted to talk to me – but I wasn’t all that happy with her right now. Dyed lilac shoes? Would I ever live down the shame?

  Carly knew I was agitated. She led me outside before I lost it.

  “Were you just going to spring those shoes on me the day of the wedding?” I was incredulous.

  “Basically,” Carly admitted. “I knew you would never agree to wear them. I figured you’d take one look at me in my white dress and not be able to tell me no.”

  Well, at least she was honest.

  “I don’t want to wear dyed shoes.”

  “You can take them off and go barefoot after the photos have been taken.”

  “Photos!”

  Carly bit the inside of her cheek. “Of course there will be photos. Don’t be purposely obtuse. You knew there would be photos.”

  “Will the shoes be in them?”

  “Only a few.”

  I blew out a sigh. “How long until the wedding?”

  “A little less than a month.”

  “No offense, but I’m ready for it to be over with.”

  “You and me both. The less I have to see of that woman, the better,” Carly said bitterly.

  “We could smother her in her sleep,” I offered.

  “We would get caught. I would be the first suspect and Jake would know you wouldn’t let me commit a murder on my own.”

  She had a point.

  When Carly was sure that I was sufficiently calm – or as calm as I was going to get in the next hour – she said her goodbyes and left me fuming on the street. I was so caught up in my righteous indignation, I didn’t notice a pair of feet stop next to me on the street corner.

  “Is this a private freak out, or can anyone join in?”

  I jumped when I heard the voice. I recognized it. I didn’t even have to look up to know that I would find Eliot standing next to me.

  I plastered a fake bright smile on my face and met his gaze. He looked as good as I remembered. His shoulder-length brown hair was glinting under the sunlight and his rich brown eyes were filled with amusement as he regarded me. “I’m not freaking out,” I lied.

  “Then what are you doing?”

  “Contemplating the meaning of life?”

  “And?”

  “And? And it sucks.” Seriously, dyed shoes are just embarrassing.

  “Well, I can’t argue with that,” Eliot’s smile was fairly welcoming. I took that as a good sign.

  “How are you?” I bit the bullet. We might as well have the uncomfortable conversation that was bubbling under the surface. At least, when it was over, I would have a better understanding of where I stood.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “No long-lasting injuries.”

  “That’s good,” I offered lamely.

  “How are you?” The question was pointed.

  “I’m fine.”

  Eliot looked up at the bridal store behind me. There was a question in his eyes. I wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to ask it, though.

  “I was getting fitted for my bridesmaid dress for Carly’s wedding,” I explained hurriedly. I lifted up the lilac sheath, which was covered in a plastic dress bag, as proof.

  “I was wondering,” Eliot laughed. “I didn’t think you and Jake would make a rush for the aisle that quickly.”

  What? “I don’t . . . what?”

  “You and Jake. I figured you’d made up. That was why I hadn’t heard from you.” Eliot steadfastly averted his gaze from mine.

  “Jake and I are not together,” I said. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because you just disappeared after you came and saw me at the hospital.” There was a certain edge of frustration laced throughout Eliot’s words.

  “I did go back,” I protested. “You were already discharged. I figured you would call me when you were feeling better but . . . it never happened.”

  Eliot smiled to himself, the first real smile today. “Do you have one of those phones that only receives calls?”

  “No. I just figured you would call me if you wanted to talk to me.”

  “And I figured you would call me if you wanted to talk to me.”

  Eliot and I both burst out in laughter. It was a surreal situation. We lapsed into silence when our giggles had subsided. Eliot broke the silence. “So you’re not with Jake?”

  “Of course not,” I scoffed. I didn’t tell him that I hadn’t talked to Jake since that day in the hospital either.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Eliot said honestly. “I was hoping that maybe . . . “ He broke off uncertainly.

  “Maybe what?” I prodded.

  Eliot swallowed hard. He was clearly waging an internal battle in his own mind. “Do you want to have dinner with me?” He asked finally.

  I was surprised – and thrilled. “I would like that,” I said honestly. The sense of relief that was washing over me was a surprise – even to me. It was like the stress I had been carrying for the past month was just erased. Sure, my boss still hated me and Jake was avoiding me like the plague, but the Eliot situation was definitely looking up.

  Eliot seemed equally relieved by my response. “Really? This would be a real date, you know?”

  “I figured,” I said sarcastically.

  Eliot paused a second, then he fixed me with a hard look. “If I’m going to date you, then I’m going to date you.”

  “Isn’t that how dating usually works?”

  “For normal people,” Eliot replied. “You’re not normal, though.”

  “I’m better than normal,” I teased.

  “You are. You’re also frustrating – and you don’t listen for shit.”

  The warm glow I had felt when Eliot asked me out was starting to fade. “Are you asking me out or insulting me?”

  “Both. Get used to it.”

  “When do you want to have dinner?” I didn’t want the invitation to just sit out there and ferment. I wanted a definite plan of action. I was ready to move forward for a change.

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  Tonight? He was as eager as I was. “Nothing,” I said hastily.

  “Well, then let’s go out tonight.”

  I remembered my mom’s call from earlier in the day and slapped myself in the forehead. “Oh, I can’t.”

  Eliot regarded me suspiciously. “Why?”

  “Family dinner,” I explained.

  “Family dinner?” Eliot looked confused.

  “Once a week, I have to drive up to my family’s restaurant in Oakland County and have dinner with all of them. I’ve missed the last two weeks. If I don’t go tonight my mom will send out a search party – and it will be a really shrill and loud search party.”

  Eliot smiled despite himself. “Well, I guess that’s a good enough reason.”

  I was mentally toying with an idea. I couldn’t tell if it was a good idea or not, but I didn’t want to lose the forward momentum I was feeling. “You could come with me, if you want.” I had said it relatively quietly. I think Eliot was surprised by the invitation.

  “Go to family dinner with you?”

  “Yeah,” I plowed on. “It’s not a big deal. It’s pretty casual.”

  “Define casual.” Now Eliot was the one who was hedging.

  “We have a family table at the restaurant,” I explained. “All my aunts, uncles and cousins will be there.”

  “And your mom?” Eliot looked dubious.

  “And my mom.”

  “I don’t know . . . “ Eliot looked torn.

  “You don’t have to. It was just an idea.” I averted my gaze from Eliot.

  He regarded me for a second. “Why not.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah,” Eliot said. “I’ll have to meet them eventually. They’re just normal people,
right?”

  Define normal. “Of course.”

  “And they’ll like me, right?”

  I looked at his long hair, white tank top, flannel shirt and the Native American tattoos on his forearms and realized one thing with absolute certainty: My mom was going to hate him on sight.

  “They’ll love you.”

  Six

  Eliot insisted on driving to dinner – even though he had never been to the family restaurant before. I don’t think he trusted my driving. The last time he had been near me when I was behind the wheel I had accidentally hit him with my car. Personally, I blame him for running into the middle of the road. I don’t think he felt the same way, though.

  The restaurant itself was located an hour north of Detroit, in an area of Oakland County that was still more rural than urban. My great-grandmother had started it in the 1960s, and she had passed it down to her son – my grandfather. My grandfather was still technically in charge, but he had passed on the day-to-day operations to my Uncle Tim. My grandfather still went to the restaurant everyday, but it was usually to just hold court with the regular coffee drinkers that frequented the establishment.

  It was a real family endeavor – with much of the family still working there. The décor was basic, and the booths vinyl. I found it warm and inviting, but I was curious about how Eliot would see it.

  For his part, Eliot seemed to be getting increasingly nervous during the drive. He kept asking me pointed questions about my family.

  “So, you’re an only child but you have a lot of cousins, right?”

  “Right.”

  “And you’re all close?”

  “Right.”

  “Will Lexie be there?”

  That was a good question. Eliot had met Lexie when she had been living with me a few weeks ago. It was his idea for her to go to rehab – a move she had initially fought. Eliot didn’t overtly dislike Lexie, but he wasn’t exactly fond of her either. He thought she spent too much time flitting from thing to thing – and leeching off whatever person was most convenient at that point in her life.

  “I don’t know. Last time I heard, she was still in rehab.”