Page 17 of Frosted and Sliced

“I don’t know, it’s grounding somehow. Sometimes you can begin to drift, even with the best of intentions. Having those concrete family connections acts like a tether, I guess. Brody and I remind each other that we’re not completely alone in the world, that someone is watching and keeping track.” She said it and bit her lip, realizing Burke might be alone in the world. Did anyone keep track of him? Somehow she didn’t think so, and it broke her heart a little. Her waffle was ready, but she prepped it and gave it to him instead, along with another piece of bacon.

“I’m going to get fat,” Burke complained, but he ate the new waffle.

“Nonsense, now finish your gingerbread and step into my oven,” she said, feeling satisfied when one side of his cheek ticked up with a hint of amusement.

“You joke, but I’ve never actually seen anyone leave this inn,” he said.

“Everyone needs their secrets, Burke.”

“You have no idea how true that is, Georgette,” he returned, without a hint of amusement.

Georgette watched him, suddenly disquieted. What secrets did her hobo harbor? Were any of them dangerous?

He finished his second waffle and licked his lips.

Maybe. Maybe he was dangerous, but not to her. She was almost fifty percent certain.

CHAPTER 8

Why do I do this to myself?Georgette knew a Chamber of Commerce meeting was the wrong time to become philosophical, but she couldn’t seem to help it. For the last eighteen months, she had willingly put herself through the emotional wringer, and for what? So she could say she was a member of something? So she could hope to make a difference in the way the town handled tourist season? So her inn could try to make its mark? So people would finally recognize Georgette as a human, separate from her brother and her tragic backstory?

Jenna Archer spoke, but of course Georgie had no idea what she said. How could she? The woman kept her face averted. At first Georgette thought it might be an accident. She explained, when she joined, that she read lips and needed to see people’s faces as they spoke, in order to understand them. When people continued to turn their faces away, she chalked it up to forgetfulness and sent a politely worded email as a reminder, also requesting a written summary of the meetings (notes and minutes were already kept by their secretary.) When the summary failed to appear and people kept turning away from her, she got the hint, andstillshe kept showing up. Why? Punishment? Stubbornness? She’d like to think she was grittyand plucky enough for that to be the case, but she suspected it was a more pathetic reality: she wanted to be acknowledged and accepted.

I can’t do this anymore,she realized. It was so much safer and easier to stay in her little corner of the world. Before, she only had Brody. But now Elyse was here, a real friend who liked and accepted her, exactly as she was. That was enough, wasn’t it? It would have to be, because she couldn’t keep this up.

Someone eased into the chair beside her. She caught sight of him in her peripheral, and at first thought it must be Brody. He had an open invitation to the Chamber of Commerce, and Jenna, coincidentally his former high school girlfriend, had been bugging him for months to attend. Georgette wondered if perhaps her acceptance onto the committee was because they thought it might induce Brody to show up. All eyes were on the newcomer, who tapped Georgie’s arm, snagging her attention.

“They asked who I am,” he said, when he had her attention.

She blinked at him before turning her attention back to the women. “He’s my handyman.”

That earned her more stares. “Really,” Jenna said, gaze wandering between them. “I didn’t know you were hiring.”

“I didn’t know it was your business who she hires,” Burke said. He seemed grumpier than usual, arms crossed over his chest. Before she could wonder why, he continued to speak, “Do you always exclude Georgette from these meetings, or is it only today?”

Jenna’s lashes fluttered.Busted,Georgette thought, even as Jenna tried to paste on an innocent expression. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m guessing that’s what Georgette has been thinking,” Burke said.

“Maybe we weren’t aware…” Jenna began, but Burke interrupted.

“Are you new to this town?”

“Er…no,” Jenna said.

“Because I’ve known her a short time and have already learned to face her when I speak. How long have you known her?” Burke demanded.

Jenna’s eyes darted guiltily toward Georgette. “A while.”

“What about the rest of you?” Burke said, his eyes circling the small group, who all looked studiously away and shifted in their chairs.

“It’s a meeting, we’re not really set up for handicapped people,” Clara tried. She glanced around the group for support, but no one would look at her. No one would look at anyone, everyone was too busy trying not to look at Burke.

“I didn’t realize common courtesy was a special accommodation,” Burke said.

Jenna’s eyes actually watered. Georgette would have felt bad, but she had vivid memories of Jenna being horrible in high school. She had always been that girl who was nice when she needed something from you, and horrible when she didn’t.

“Sorry,” she gasped and visibly swallowed, blinking rapidly. Whether it was fear or remorse, Georgette had no idea and didn’t care. At least she felt something, after so many years of bad behavior. The other women cleared their throats, too, and angled their chairs facing Georgette, waiting for her to speak. She glanced at Burke but he was no longer there, and that unsettled her. Was he imaginary? How did he seem to show up when she needed him and disappear soon after? Was she the only one who saw him, an actual ghost now living in her attic? But, no, the women in this meeting had talked to him, and Elyse knew him. He wasn’t made up.

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