Page 86 of Serenity Harbor

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SHEDIDN’TSEEBowie at all through Sunday or Monday morning. She had been awake when he finally came home late Sunday night but didn’t think it would be wise to tempt fate by going out to talk to him while she was in her pajamas and the house was dark and still.

When she headed into the kitchen to make breakfast for Milo, she found a note from Bowie, explaining that he had to run into work early and wasn’t sure what time he would be home.

The note only confirmed her suspicion that he was avoiding her. How could she blame him?

Leave me alone, Bowie. Don’t kiss me again. I mean it.

“Bo?” Milo asked.

She forced a smile, determined not to give in to her brewing headache or the depression that seemed to have settled into her bones. She had made a mess of everything since she’d been home.

“He’s gone to work today,” she told Milo. “It’s just you and me. We’re going to have so much fun together.” It was her last full day with him before Debra Peters arrived the next day, and she didn’t want to waste a moment of it.

“How about Mickey pancakes this morning?” she asked Milo. He nodded and gave her his half smile, then returned to his ever-present little cars.

Oh, she would miss him. Why did life have to be full of so many difficult decisions?

As the oil heated on the griddle, she mixed the batter, and when she judged the oil hot enough, she poured one circle, then two smaller ones for ears. She had a sudden random memory of making this at Sam’s house, in the days when Sam’s dad was in the hospital, dying of cancer. Sam had been thirteen, she remembered, and Katrina had done her best to be silly and make jokes and otherwise try to keep her friend’s spirits up during those long, rough days.

Tears burned behind her eyes. She wasn’t that silly girl anymore. She still loved her friend and wanted to fix this.

If Sam wouldn’t answer her calls, she would track her down, she decided. On a Monday morning at 9:30 a.m. she had to be at the store, ready to open.

“Finish your breakfast, kiddo,” she said to Milo. “We need to go for a walk into town.”

An hour later, her stomach was still in knots when they approached the redbrick two-story building that housed Fremont Fashions. The door was locked and the sign hadn’t yet been switched from CLOSED to OPEN, but she could see movement inside.

She rapped on the door and waited. Inside, she could see Linda make her slow way to the door. When she opened it, Mrs. Fremont wore her usual dour expression, as if she had just taken a bite out of something nasty.

“You’re out and about early today,” she said, by way of greeting.

“I really need to talk to Sam. Is she here?”

Curiosity flickered in Linda’s gaze. “She’s in the back, looking over an order of new purses that just came in from Genevieve Designs, the company run by Aidan Caine’s sister-in-law in Hope’s Crossing. They might be beautiful, but they’re ridiculously expensive. Between you and me, I don’t know how we’ll ever sell a single one, but as usual, Samantha doesn’t listen to me. You can go back.”

Katrina glanced down at Milo, standing solemnly at her side. If this turned into a full-on fight and Samantha yelled at her and called her the ugly names she deserved, she didn’t want Milo there to hear. He disliked conflict and would probably freak. “Do you mind keeping an eye on Milo?” she asked Linda. “He’s usually happy playing with his cars.”

She thought Linda might refuse, but the woman surprised her. She leaned down, her mouth lifting in the closest she came to a smile. “Milo, I know you enjoyed playing in the clothes the last time you were here. There’s a clearance rack over there. You can’t hurt anything there, and you can play with your cars inside all you want.”

He appeared to consider this, then nodded and followed Linda to the round rack she indicated, slipping through the clothes to the middle, a secret little spot that probably seemed similar to the closet at home.

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Linda said.

“Thank you.”

With no more reason to dawdle, Katrina drew in a breath, steeled her nerve and headed to the back room of the shop. When she entered, Sam looked up from tagging some colorful hand-sewn purses. Her pretty features tightened, but after that first moment of hesitation, she went on with her work as if Kat hadn’t even come in.

Katrina moved closer to the table. “Hey there. Did your mom tell you Milo and I stopped by your house yesterday?”

“Yes.” The single word came out with the same sharp staccato as the label gun in her hand.

“She said you went to Boise to have lunch with a friend.”

“That’s right,” Sam said. She didn’t offer any further information and Katrina didn’t ask, though she knew most of Sam’s friends. They had roomed together in Boise and hung out with most of the same people.

She sat down on the chair across from Samantha, feeling miserable and awkward—emotions she wasn’t used to experiencing around her BFF.

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