The Sunset Witness (10 page)

When I arrived at Twyla's, she was at the bakery
counter helping a customer.  I knew Breanna should be there and sensed her
injuries were worse than I thought.  I walked into the kitchen to get my apron
and pad.  Simone was doing advance preparations for the fish entrée.  She told
me I'd have to cover for Joel.  Breanna had surgery that morning, and Joel
wouldn't be back until Tuesday.  I felt ashamed for not seeing her at the
hospital Sunday.  While Joel dealt with the trauma of her accident, Michael and
I were indulging our passion.

I was concerned about being on my own.  With luck,
Monday would be slow.  Of course, it wasn't.

The regulars inquired about Joel and Breanna.  The
Robinsons asked if I knew Breanna's room number so they could send flowers.  Twyla
suggested they wait because there was so little room in the ICU.  I decided I'd
split my tips with Joel.  The customers were even more generous than usual
because the dining room was small, and the bad news got around quickly.  Joel
would not be paid for his shift, and I already knew he didn't have a cushion in
an emergency.  It seemed the least I could do for him after brushing off the
accident to be with Michael.

The large number of customers was both good and bad. 
It was very stressful to deliver the kind of service Twyla was known for by
myself, but it meant the night passed quickly and I had little or no time to
think.

Twyla showed me how to close at the end of the night. 
When we'd finished and the deposit was in the safe, she asked how I was getting
along.  I told her I still had so much to learn, but I thought I was doing all
right for my first week.  She'd heard some nice comments about me and told me
to keep up the good work.  It was just what I needed to hear.

She unlocked the door for me to leave, and then
locked it again.  I wished Michael was there to walk me home.  I kept looking
around and walked as if I knew how to handle myself instead of betraying how
frightened I was.  It'd been several days since the knife appeared in the
mural.  I thought the person responsible must have seen me by now and realized
Sarah was gone.  There was still the hitman Dennis had warned might already be
in Sunset.  I had no idea who he was.  I could be looking at him and not know
it.  Did hitmen really look the way they are portrayed in movies?  If I was
sending someone to do a hit, I'd choose a person who was not so obvious.

After changing into my pajamas, I answered email and
checked my Facebook page.  I was not in the mood to update my status.  What
would I say?  Good News: The psycho with the knife didn't come back.  Bad News:
Now I'm on the lookout for a hitman.  Everything seemed trite and insignificant
in view of my new reality.  I stared at the plot I'd started for my novel.  My
mind was blank.  I left a message for Joel, saying I was sorry to hear about
Breanna.  I asked him to let me know if there was something I could do.  Then I
decided to get up early and drive to Hoquarten.  It might not matter to
Breanna, but Joel would probably appreciate the gesture.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

I made my own version of a sausage and egg McMuffin.  It
wasn't difficult since I'd bought a package of English muffins, eggs, cheddar
cheese, and ready-cooked sausage patties.  I blamed my insatiable craving for
junk food on PMS and then wondered why I was late.  I'd never been late before.

I was on the road by ten o'clock.  I'd have enough
time to get to Hoquarten, go to the hospital, have lunch with Joel, and get
back to Sunset in time for my shift at the restaurant.

When I arrived at St. Luke's Hospital in Hoquarten, I
told the nurse I was a friend of Breanna and Joel and asked her to let him know
I was in the waiting room.  After a few minutes, he came through the door and
was smiling.  The surprise on his face told me I'd done the right thing.  He
said Michael had come early Monday and returned periodically to give him a
break.  Breanna's mother was going to relieve Joel so he could go to lunch and
the bank.  I told him I'd read a magazine while I waited for him.

The waiting room was small.  A sofa with a pillow and
blanket on it so family members could stay overnight was centered on the only
window.  A ceiling-high plant with rubbery leaves stood between the sofa and a
chair.  A coffee maker and cups were in one corner, and a water cooler was in
the opposite corner.  A magazine stand was next to my chair.  I started
flipping pages in a copy of
People
magazine.

It was a relief to know Michael had left my arms to
be there for a friend.  I wondered if he would have preferred spending Sunday
at the hospital.  On the other hand, he did not give me the impression he was
in the least distracted by Joel's misfortune.  In the end, both Michael and I
had done what we could to support Joel.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back on the
chair.  My mind wandered to the overlook at the lighthouse.  I was looking into
Michael's eyes.  Then he kissed my nose, and started laughing.  I was startled
and excited to see him at the same time.  I thanked him for the roses, and was
surprised he looked blank.  We had started talking about them when Breanna's
mother came into the room.  I stood up, and Michael introduced us.  She thanked
me for coming and left.

After a minute or so, Joel came into the room and
suggested we all go to lunch.  We took his car, stopped at the ATM drive-up at
his bank, and went to a deli.  Joel told us Breanna was doing better.  The
doctor expected her to recover, but she would be in the hospital several more
days.

Once Michael and I were alone again, I asked him
about the flowers.  He had no idea what I was talking about.  He was sorry he
didn't think of it himself, because he could tell how much it had meant to me. 
He thought I must have received the delivery by mistake.  He guessed someone
else in Sunset was wondering why she did not get flowers.

I left sooner than either of us preferred, but Twyla
was depending on me, and I didn't want to let her down.  I also realized it was
a good opportunity to prove my value to her.  Michael put his arms around me
and kissed me.  It was the kind of kiss that ends too soon and leaves you looking
forward to the next one.

While I was happy to have seen Michael and to know he
did care, my joy was tempered by the fact he'd not sent the flowers.  If he hadn't
sent them, who did?  Why would someone pretend the flowers were from Michael? 
As soon as I was in the door, I checked the card and found the florist online. 
I called and told the woman who answered that I'd received flowers and wondered
who sent them.  I told her the name, Michael, was written on the card and that
no one I knew had sent them.  I asked if someone else had complained of not
getting a delivery in Sunset.  She knew of no missing deliveries.  I asked if
she remembered who paid for them.  She was not in the store when they were
purchased. The clerk who took the order was on a week's vacation.  I asked for the
name on the account, credit card, or check.  She was not allowed to tell me.

I'd not talked to Frank Monday.  I'd not seen him
since the previous Thursday morning at his house.  I called his number and was
relieved when he answered.  He sounded glad to hear from me.  I explained my
life had been more complicated than usual lately, and two friends I worked with
were dealing with the aftermath of a serious accident.  He was very sympathetic
and said he'd heard something about it.  I felt a little phony for using Joel's
and Breanna's bad luck to make myself look better to Frank.  I could not think
of any other explanation for not visiting him.

I did not want to tell Frank I'd spent Saturday
looking for a friend who was missing or hiding.  Telling him about Michael
seemed premature.  There was not much to tell.  I was sure Frank would not have
approved of my hooking up with Michael when I hardly knew him.  I could tell
Frank we toured the area on Sunday, but he would realize it did not take all
day to see the lighthouse.  Now, there was the bouquet of flowers out of
nowhere.  It seemed everything I might have talked about was tainted somehow. 
After spending the night on Frank's sofa because someone had been in my house,
I was afraid Frank would begin to have a low opinion of me.  I valued his
friendship, and I wanted him to know he could count on me if his life really
was in danger.  As it turned out, I had to hang up with Frank because someone
was at his door.  I was sorry I could see only the roof of his house from my
window after Dennis told me someone might come for Frank eventually.

As soon as I hung up, I had a phone call from
Jennifer at the graphic design company in Hoquarten.  She apologized for not
calling Monday.  The office was busy this time of year.  I was expecting her to
say she'd never heard of Sarah.  Instead, she told me Sarah worked for them
very briefly and then left to freelance.  She did not have a forwarding
address, but she thought Sarah said something about going back to
Pennsylvania.  I thanked her and hung up.  She was the third person whom Sarah
had told about Pennsylvania.  I felt better knowing she'd actually been
employed there, but I could not explain why she failed to tell me she was going
back home.

I booted my laptop after changing into my uniform. 
If I got carried away at the computer, I'd be ready to dash out the door for Twyla's. 
That was a definite plus to living in Sunset.  There were no services, really,
but my job was practically next door.

My cell phone rang as I was getting back into my plot
notes.  This time it was the florist.  She took another look at the account and
noticed the flowers were not from Michael.  The flowers were
for
Michael.  I was quiet so long that she asked if I was still on the line.  As
soon as I hung up with the florist, I went to the kitchen and checked the
card.  Michael's name had been written in script, and it was too large to fit
next to either
For
or
From
.  The name also was written at an
angle.  The person who sent the flowers must have thought Michael would know
who sent them.  The script did not look familiar.  Perhaps Michael would have
an idea.

As I was trying to make the leap from Michael to my
fictional neighborhood about twenty years before, I heard Sarah and Nate
laughing.  My mother had invited the Duncans and the Russells over for Pinochle. 
Nate, Sarah, and I had gone to the family room to watch the MTV movie awards. 
Sarah had chugged the remains of a bottle of rum behind the bar.  Nate and I
watched Will Smith entertain the audience as he hovered above them like Peter
Pan.  Sarah emerged from behind the bar doing her impression of Alicia
Silverstone in
The Crush
.  I was embarrassed for her, but she clearly
had Nate's full attention.  Sarah had developed early, and her figure at thirteen
was more sensuous than mine at twenty-one.  The memory left me wondering
whether or not I should dredge up the past for the sake of a story.

Tuesday night was difficult.  One of Joel's regulars
was too late to get her usual table by the window.  Twyla had a policy of first
come first served, but it meant nothing to this woman.  Her husband had been a
one-term senator in the Oregon legislature several years before.  He was not
popular.  He'd died recently, and his widow did not adjust well to the loss. 
She demanded to be treated as if she'd been the country's first lady instead of
the wife of a much-caricatured, failed politician.  Joel knew how to handle
her.

She could tell I was not the least impressed by who
she hadn't been.  She could not eat the endive in the salad.  She insisted I
take the plate to the kitchen and pick through it and then replace those greens
with baby spinach, one for one.  She would know if I shorted her salad.  The
halibut was overcooked, but she would force herself to eat it if Twyla gave her
half off her next meal there.  Joel had told me this was a ploy to get a
cheaper meal.  The entrée, no matter what it might be, was always overcooked so
it could not be sent back and cooked more thoroughly.  I told her I'd be glad
to take the halibut back and order something else for her.  Unfortunately, we
were out of everything except the filet mignon, which was considerably more
expensive.  She could not eat beef, and she was too cheap to pay for a filet,
so she "settled" for the halibut.  On top of everything, she tipped
less than ten percent and rounded it to the nearest dollar so her checkbook was
easy to balance.

Twyla stood by while I balanced the cash drawer and
prepared the deposit.  She thought I could do it on my own from now on.  I was
closing the safe when she came in and told me Michael was waiting for me.  I
knew she could tell I was pleasantly surprised.  I'd decided not to mention my
personal life at work, but I sensed Twyla could be trusted to keep a
confidence.  Before I left the area of the safe, I took a few deep breaths and
composed myself so I'd not betray the excitement I felt.

Michael told me he was concerned about me walking
home alone.  He'd bought a bottle of wine and thought we might share it.  He'd
not go back to Hoquarten on Wednesday.  Then he told me Joel was on the verge
of breaking up with Breanna when she was hurt.  Joel felt he had no choice but
to support her while she recuperated and was not looking forward to telling her
he didn't love her anymore.  I wondered how they would manage a breakup at the
restaurant.  I had my own problems, but I took comfort in not having that one.

Michael poured our wine into two glasses in the
kitchen.  I told him the florist had called to say the roses were for him and
showed him the card.  He did not recognize the writing.  It was not his
birthday, and he could think of no reason why anyone would send him flowers. 
He said no one knew about me, and he'd given a general delivery address to
forward his mail.  No one knew he was staying with Joel except Joel, Breanna,
and me.