Page 77 of Heidi Lucy Loses Her Mind

My body stills, though, when I hear Heidi’s voice grow concerned and even panicked.

“What do you mean?” she’s saying when I tune in.

And then I’m standing up before I even realize it. I grab the last towel and my t-shirt before stepping out of the water.

“No,” she says after another minute of silence. “I—of course I understand, but—” She breaks off, and by the time I reach her side, her lips have pulled into a miserable little frown, and there are actual tears welling in her eyes.

Nope. I’m not okay with that. It hurts.It physicallyhurtsto see this woman cry.

“I’ll let you know when I’m back,” she finally says, her voice just above a whisper. “Okay. Thank you.” Then she nods and hangs up.

“Heidi,” Gemma says immediately, her arms folded tightly over her chest, her towel slung low around her hips. “Who was it?”

“It was the policeman who came to the shop the other day,” she says, her eyes wide and unseeing, her voice faint. She looks like she might keel over at any second, and Eric seems to think so too, because he holds out one steadying hand.

But when Heidi finally makes eye contact with someone, it’s me. “Carmina had rat poison in her system,” she says. Then she looks at Eric and Gemma. “They’re shutting down Paper Patisserie.”

And into my head pops one word, echoing loudly as it bounces around my thoughts:Murder.

19

IN WHICH HEIDI GOES TO A FANCY RESTAURANT

I’m not a rule-breaker or law-breaker by nature, but when Eric puts in a solid fifteen miles per hour faster than the speed limit on the way home, I don’t complain. It’s unfortunate that we were only at the hot springs for all of thirty minutes, but none of us would be able to have fun if we stayed anyway. Not after that call from the policeman.

My shop. My shop. My shop.

I keep craning my head anxiously to look out the window of the car as we drive, like I’m expecting a police car to be tailing us. I’m twitchy and nervous and probably look wildly suspicious; it’s a good thing it’s just the four of us in here.

Soren reaches over and rests one hand on my bare knee; it’s only then that I realize I’ve been bouncing my legs rapidly. I still them, but he doesn’t move his hand. He meets my gaze and raises his eyebrows the tiniest bit—asking if it’s okay to be touching me like this. I nod in return, letting my hand rest on top of his. He flips his hand over then and threads his fingers through mine with an ease that leaves me feeling strangely breathless, his grip somehow firm and gentle at the same time, his thumb stroking softly against my skin.

I have to stop myself from kicking the back of Gemma’s seat and screaming at her with my eyes alone thatI like a man and he likes me and he’s holding my hand right now, this very second.

Then I have to stop myself from kicking the back of Eric’s seat and screaming at him with my very loud voice toplease for the love hurry up and drive faster.

My shop. My beloved child, maybe the only one I’ll ever have, and the officer has asked me toshut her down.

Not permanently—at least, if they come to their senses and realize I had nothing to do with poisoning Carmina Hildegarde. But they said that since she was at Paper Patisserie when she died, and since the toxicology report showed rat poison in her system, they needed to check the premises. They’re there now, waiting for me; I think they only called when they found the place closed and locked.

Crap. That might have looked suspicious too, right? And what if they find rat poison in the shop? Do I have rat poison? I would know if I had rat poison, right?

Of course you would,I tell myself firmly.If you haven’t bought any and no one has given you any, there’s no rat poison at the shop. Calm down.

“Okay,” I say, forcing myself to take deep, steadying breaths. “Okay. Eric, you drop Gemma and I at the shop, and then you and Soren—”

“Will stay with you at the shop while the police are there,” Eric cuts me off, giving me an incredulous look in the rearview mirror. “And if you think we would do anything else, you don’t know us at all.”

I don’t even argue. I suspected as much, and frankly, a large part of me is grateful. “Fine,” I say. “That’s fine.” Then I turn to Soren. “And tonight you and I will go to Chateau Marche. Good?”

He nods. “Good.” He continues to hold my hand, his thumb still playing distractingly against my skin. “Let’s do it.”

My knee starts to bounce again; Soren doesn’t stop it this time. The four of us drive in tense, fidgeting silence until we reach Sunshine Springs, and several moments later Eric pulls into the back lot of Paper Patisserie.

Part of me wants to storm out of the car and demand to know what these officers think they’re doing, shutting down my shop when I’ve done nothing wrong. The other, larger part of me knows that would be shooting myself in the foot.

Iknow I’ve done nothing wrong, but they don’t know that. So it’s good that they’re looking around and asking questions. It’s good that they’re poking around. That way my name—and Soren’s—will be cleared.

I take a few deep breaths before opening the door and climbing out of the car. My gait feels stilted as I cross the parking lot and round the building, and I’m suddenly questioning very basic things about myself, like if I know how to walk properly and what I’m supposed to say when people ask me normal questions likeWhat is your name?

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