Role Playing(45)

She sighed, hugging her jacket to herself a little tighter. The air smelled like rain, even though she couldn’t make out any clouds. It felt like a storm coming.

Damned metaphors, she thought, and scowled at the sky.





CHAPTER 19


IT’S JUST A FLESH WOUND

Aiden’s foot still hurt when Maggie picked him up the next morning. It wasn’t that bad—he’d probably gotten injured worse in football, back in the day. Of course, “back in the day” was over thirty years ago, and while nursing was physically demanding, he’d been riding a desk for years. Now his older body was grumping at him nightly.

The air boot made him feel like he was walking on his tiptoes, and it made him walk funny because his right foot was suddenly higher than his left. There was also no way he could drive, so he was thankful that Maggie was helping him.

This would also give him more of an opportunity to get a sense of her and how she was reacting to their strange first meeting. After she’d left, it was almost like she had been a result of the meds . . . some weird, hazy figment of his imagination.

The sensation had been amplified that morning, when she’d texted him that she would pick him up at eleven if he still needed to go grocery shopping. He hoped she didn’t feel obligated and wasn’t helping because she felt pressured, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized that this was one woman who would probably never feel obligated nor pressured. If she didn’t want to do something, she’d tell him to fuck off and find another way. Advise him to live off the remainders of his condiments or something. He grinned at the thought.

She might not be eighty years old, but she was still Boggy.

He was waiting near his driveway when she pulled up in a forest-green Forester that looked like it had some years on it but could still tackle the feet of snow and sheets of ice that hit Fool’s Falls in the winter. He hobbled over to the passenger side, grunting as he maneuvered his way inside. “Thanks for this,” he said.

She shrugged, looking embarrassed. She was still wild haired if not wild eyed, wearing the same thick coat he’d seen the day before. She shot him a sideways look. “Tasty Great all right?”

“Sure.” There was a little combination organic market and specialty food / antique shop in town, but only the bougiest of Falls citizens went there. He’d considered it, but had balked at the prices they charged for even the simplest things. And much as he liked it, he couldn’t really justify stuff like Kerrygold butter.

“You got a list?”

“I’ll, um, figure it out.”

She arched an eyebrow at him quickly, before looking over her shoulder and backing out of the driveway. “How about your mom? What does she usually need?”

Now embarrassment zinged through him. “Um . . . actually, she’s okay. And I don’t need a lot. We’ll be in and out quickly, I promise.”

Another quick, sharp glance. “Please tell me you’re not starving your mom because you feel awkward about asking for favors. Don’t be weird.”

“First, I can’t help it, I am weird,” he said, with a lopsided grin. “But second . . . she, um, got help from the ladies at her church.”

One woman specifically, in fact.

When his mother hadn’t shown up for church, and the news had finally filtered through the various women friends, Deb had taken it upon herself to get his mom loaded up with groceries “to help,” something his mother had quickly pointed out to him when he’d called to check in on her that morning and asked what she’d need from the store. She’d insisted that he thank Deb, which he’d felt was warranted, so he’d called.

Unfortunately, it had caused a domino effect.

Deb had then immediately volunteered to help him out, as well, pointing out all the ways he’d need care. Maybe he was being paranoid, but there had been a tone to it, something more than just being neighborly. Then it had gotten downright suspicious. Maybe Riley’s admonishments had gotten into his head—he didn’t know. But he had said no, quickly and vehemently, and he hoped that would be the end of it. The last thing he wanted was to be surprised by a “helpful visit.” He shuddered at the thought.

Maggie must’ve caught it. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just . . .” He thought about telling her, then decided against it. “Yeah.”

She drove silently for a minute. Tasty Great wasn’t that far from his house—nothing in the town itself was that far from anything else in the town, that was what small-town living was all about—and then she sort of grunted. “Okay, spill.”

“Spill what?”

“What happened since yesterday that’s making you squirrelly about grocery shopping?”

“The woman who helped my mom . . . actually, you know her,” he realized as he said it aloud. “Deb?”

“What about her?”

“She texted me and said she wanted to help me out while my foot recovered.” He squirmed in his chair.

“Did she already buy you groceries or something?” Maggie sounded puzzled. “Do you not need to go? I mean, you could’ve told me before I drove here, but it’s not that big a deal.”

“No! No,” he said quickly. “It’s just . . . I told her I already had help.”