Page 16 of The One Before

“I’m not accusing you, Coop,” I say, hurt that he’d even suggest it. I know Coop isn’t capable of something as horrendous as murder. Of course, from his perspective, I can see how this might feel like an ambush. I take a deep breath, lowering my voice. “You have to understand, I was shocked when Bridgette said that. I only wanted to know why it was said.”

“You called her a source,” he says, his voice hurt. “You’re treating this like it’s some type of lead. We’re talking about my past. My life.”

It’s my nature to investigate. That’s what made me a great journalist, but I’ve learned to curtail that impulse when it comes to my personal life. I only snooped through Coop’s belongings once, when he first moved into my apartment. He had a stack of oldGazettepapers. I went through them and found a picture of another woman. It wasn’t a scandalous photo, but my insides boiled with envy, which simmered into shame. Had I been younger, the discovery would have initiated a weekend-long squabble. With maturity came the realization I couldn’t go through other people’s belongings and be upset over what I uncovered. Coop was entitled to his privacy, and I let it go.

But this is different. I’ve been confronted with something I knew nothing about, and I won’t be able to move past it until I have all the answers. Coop must have known I’d hear the rumors eventually. Why wouldn’t he give me a fair warning before moving here? I’m about to ask more questions when the phone rings. It’s not one of our cells. The ringing is coming from the landline behind the receptionist’s desk. Coop flips the counter, picking up the receiver.

“Whisper Falls Gazette… yeah, it’s me… no, I haven’t found it yet.” He starts rummaging through a folder, then slaps his hand against the desk. “I will… give me a minute.” He covers the phone with his hand and looks at me. “I’ve got to sort something out, but I want to finish this conversation. Can we talk at home?”

“Yeah, sure.” I stand hurriedly, then remember I have no way of getting home. “I don’t have my car.”

“I shouldn’t be much longer.” The look in his eyes tells me he feels guilty, torn between his work and trying to provide the comfort I need right now. “Wait across the street at Nectar, if you want. I’ll be an hour. Tops.”

I don’t say anything, just release a deep breath and stomp out of the office.

Ten

Madison

Unlike its neighbors, Nectar looks like it was built this century. Black framing outlines horizontal panes of glass, making the entire dining space visible from the sidewalk. Given the warm weather, the windows are lowered, allowing a nice breeze to follow me inside.

Round, wooden tables are scattered around with metal chairs tucked underneath. The walls are decorated with abstract paintings, nothing remarkable, but nothing ordinary either. In the center of the room, there’s a large workspace covered with various breads and baked goods. Regina stands there, sprinkling flour onto a gigantic mound of dough. I’m impressed; I’d been expecting a diner, and instead got a friendly reminder of Atlanta farm-to-table bistros.

“What can I get you?” asks a girl with an olive apron covering her bottom half and a floral tattoo cascading down her arm. Her name tag reads Maple.

I’m still looking around, taking the place in. “Is there a menu?”

Maple points above, and I see a hanging chalkboard with each item written out by hand. “Daily specials are by the front.” Maple walks away, grabs a coffee pot and refills the cup of a nearby customer.

Regina is still smacking and kneading the dough when she sees me. She wipes a fallen hair away from her face, leaving a smear of flour on her forehead.

“Didn’t think I’d catch you here,” she says, wiping her hands clean and walking toward the counter. “I thought Mom and Roman took you shopping.”

“They did. I’m waiting on Coop to finish up at the office.” I’d rather Regina not pick up on the fact I’m upset. “I love the design of this place. It’s so modern and—”

“Not Whisper Falls?” Regina finishes my thought.

“It’s not what I was expecting.”

“Cooper’s not the only member of the Douglas family to leave Whisper. I attended culinary school up north and spent the summer after graduation working at all these enviable little restaurants. When it came time to open my own place, I decided Whisper Falls needed some culture.”

“Well, it looks great.” My eyes float to the menu dangling above our heads. “Of course I haven’t tried the food.”

Regina laughs. “Prepare to really be impressed.”

I’m not hungry, but I order something anyway. I settle on a salmon BLT paired with garlic potato wedges. Regina said it was a favorite dish, and Maple seconded the opinion. I find a table in the corner, next to a small stage with a barstool and microphone. This seems like the type of place to offer live music on the weekends. To my left, I see a corkboard littered with business cards and flyers. Advertisements for the local florist and dry cleaner and tax preparer. A bright orange poster advertises a website calledThe Falls Report.

It’s getting close to dinner time and people are starting to pile in, their arrival made known by the ding of a bell. The turnout is decent. There’s a cluster of young adults plugged into their laptops at the table next to mine. A woman in a navy coat sits by the window drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, probably theGazette. Occasionally she looks at me, offering a stare that saysyou’re not from around here.

My phone buzzes with a text message. It’s Beth.

Checking in, stranger. I miss you!

I feel guilty. The stress of the move and this past week has prevented me from reaching out as much as I should.

Miss you. How’s the baby?

Beth and Matt are expecting a baby girl. I’m happy for her, even though the timing of the delivery means she won’t be able to attend the wedding. She doesn’t need to make the drive from Atlanta so late in her pregnancy, and I wouldn’t want her to take any risks on my behalf.

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