She went with the possible.
And spent her day in the past. In the brisk winds of November on a college campus where Eliza Anderson had walked from the library to her car, intending to drive back to the group house she shared with friends, to the sweltering summer in New York where a runawayonly seventeenwas found beaten, stabbed, and strangled in a Dumpster behind a homeless shelter. To a bitter February weekend where Naomi had traveled with her photography group to New Bedford, where a married mother of two left her evening yoga classand was found dead on the rocky shoreline Naomi had photographed only that afternoon.
She skipped any excuse for lunch, fueling herself on water, far too much cold caffeine, and sheer drive. When she’d ignored the headache as long as she could, she popped some Advil and finished writing up her notes in a wayshe hopedsomeone besides herself could follow.
Exhausted, she decided Jenny was right. She needed a love seat in the studio. If she’d had one she’d have curled up on it right that minute for a nap.
Then again, if she had a love seat to take a nap on, she’d have a dirt-covered dog roaming the house. Best to wash the dog, then think about dinner. Because now that she’d stopped, she was starving.
She stepped out of the studio, stood for a moment in the absolute silenceand decided having the house to herself was nearly as refreshing as a nap.
So she’d grab a couple of cookies to fill the hole, wash the stupid dog, then think about dinner.
But she realized as she came down the back steps into the kitchen that she didn’t have the house to herself. Seeing the accordion doors wide open would’ve stopped her heart if she hadn’t heard Xander’s voice.
“Jesus, go lie down, will you? Do I look like I have a hand free to throw that damn thing?”
She stepped out.
He sat on a rolling stool, assembling a stainless steel cabinet. The rest of the . . . behemoth was really all she could think, was spread out on a folding table behind him.
The dogclean and smelling of his shampoomanaged to work his way under Xander’s arm to drop the ball in his lap.
“Forget it.”
“Is that . . . a grill?”
He glanced up. “I told you I’d get the grill.”
“It’s really big. Very really big.”
“No point in puny.” He fitted the bit of an electric drill into a screw, gave it a whirl.
“Don’t they come already assembled?”
“Why would I pay somebody to put something together when I can put it together myself?” To buy some time, Xander heaved the ball over the deck rail.
For one heart-stopping moment Naomi feared the dog would leap off after it, but he went into a flying scramble down the stairs.
“You bought a grillwhat looks to be a Cadillac of grills.”
“I said I would.”
“And you do what you say you’ll do.”
“Why say you will if you don’t?” He shifted, watched her watching him. “What?”
“I had a headache,” she said, thoughtfully. “And I was tiredbrain, body, spirit, if you want to do the hat trick. I wished I had a couch in my studio so I could take a nap. But I needed to wash the dog.”
“I washed himfor all the good it’ll do since there’s plenty of dirt out front for him to roll in again. Go take an aspirin and a nap.”
“The headache’s gone, and I’m not so tired. I earned the headache and the tired by forgetting to eat lunch and drinking too much caffeine.”
“I don’t get how people forget to eat. Your stomach says feed me. You feed it, move on.”
She let out a sigh. It surprised her as it wasn’t sad, frustrated, poignant. It was content. “Xander.” She went to him, reached down to take his face in her hands, kissed him. “You washed the dog. You bought a grillone that looks like it needs its own zip code.”
“It’s not that big.”
“And you’re putting it together. I’ll go do the same with dinner.”
“What are you talking about? This is a grill. In about forty minutes I’m going to fire it up and cook those steaks I picked up on the way home.”
“You bought steaks? You’re going to grill steaks?” She looked at the partially assembled behemoth. “Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight. Have some faith. I had them put a big-ass salad together, and if you want to be useful, you could wash the potatoes I’m going to grill.”
Just as she started to prep, Mason came in. “Listen, I want to change, have what you’re having. Then we’ll talk. I saw Xander’s truck out front.”
“He’s on the deck, assembling a gigantic grill.”
“A grill.” Mason stepped out and said, “Whoa,” in tones of awe and delight. “Now that’s a grill.”