Rest For The Wicked(45)
Until two weeks into her self-imposed penance, Marcus showed up on her doorstep.
*
“Still hiding, are we?”
“Go to hell, Marcus.” She started to close the door. He caught it with one hand, pushed it back open. “Damn it, I want to be left alone—”
“Do you?” His voice was low, gentle, and it broke through the wall she managed to build against the world. She backed away from him, tears lodged in her throat. He followed her, closing the door behind him. “Is this how you want to honor Claire? By hiding away and trying to forget her?”
“I’m not—”
Grief and fury choked her. She whirled away from him, staring out the window at the darkness. He was right. But she wasn’t trying to forget Claire—just the life she had when her friend was alive. How could she live, day to day, with the weight of the guilt on her heart?
“By living one moment at a time.” She spun to face Marcus when he spoke, her heart pounding.
“How did you know—”
“It’s a gift. Come here, Annie.”
He held out one hand, and with a choked sob she threw herself into his arms. His low voice wrapped around her as she cried, the words soothing her grief. When her knees buckled he picked her up and carried her to the sofa, cradling her until she came up for air.
“Sorry.” She used the sleeve of her robe to wipe her face. “I really didn’t want to cry all over you.”
“I am flattered you trust me enough to do so.”
A laugh escaped her. “Yeah, I guess I do. Eric told me you reopened the store.”
He shrugged. “It—hurt me, to see it sitting empty. I can answer questions well enough.”
“And charm the money right out of every female’s wallet.”
A smile crossed his face. “Charm was not needed.”
She smacked his arm. “Egomaniac.” But he made her smile, something she hadn’t done since that night. “So, people are coming in? Are they—do they—”
“Ask about Claire?” She nodded, tears stinging her eyes again. “Every day. But they seem to be getting used to seeing me there. I came here tonight to ask you to join me.”
Panic threatened to close her throat. “At the store? I can’t—”
“Your knowledge of the finer points of the craft would be appreciated. And I know you did the occasional tarot reading. I am hopeless at that, and there are regulars who keep asking when it will be possible—”
“Okay, stop nagging. I’ll do it.” Instead of feeling more panic, a weight lifted off her heart. “Besides, Claire would kill me if I let all her hard work go under.” Leaning against the back of the sofa, she pushed lank curls off her forehead. “Can you give me one more day? I’m not stalling,” she said when he opened his mouth. “I need to take care of some business.”
Marcus took her hand. She couldn’t believe she thought he was an ass. No man had been more patient, or kicked her butt when she needed it.
“You take all the time you need. As long as you are in the shop bright and early, let us say . . .” A smile crossed his face. “The day after tomorrow.”
“Slave driver. Thank you, Marcus. Eric is leaving soon, and I need—hell, you don’t want to know all the boring details.”
“He told me. I am sorry, Annie.”
She waved away his apology. “I already cried enough over that, thanks. I know he needs time, and he needs to be away from the reminders of—well, everything. Working will help. So, boss.” She gave him a shaky smile. “I’ll be in bright and early.”
*
“I’ve got you down for tomorrow morning, Mildred.” Annie herded her toward the door, plucking the love candle out of her hand. “We’ll see just how he feels about you then.”
She closed and locked the door, then leaned against it, letting out a sigh. Marcus smiled at her, but she was too tired to curse him for sticking her with the old woman. They had another manic day. It had been that way for the past two weeks—for some reason, Claire’s disappearance increased the number of customers walking through the door. Morbid curiosity, Annie figured. She resented the reason, but she couldn’t resent the money they brought with them. Claire’s legacy would flourish, and that was all that mattered—
A knock on the door yanked her out of her thoughts. She turned around and saw Eric standing there, hands in his pockets, the breeze tousling his sun streaked hair. Her heart jumped in her throat. She managed to forget during the madness of the day that he was leaving tonight. Unlocking the door, she let him in.