Page 64 of Last Seen
The girl’s face falls, just a bit. “Um ...”
Halley has a moment of realization. Tammy Boone is a minor celebrity. Strangers must come looking for her all the time.
“I’m sorry, that must have sounded weird. You have to protect her privacy, I know.” Halley leans in conspiratorially. “I’m a former student, passing through town. I was hoping to give her a hug and tell her what I’m up to. I just got a book deal!”
“Oh! Oh my God, congratulations! That’s amazing. I bet she’ll be so excited. She’s over there, in the corner. Table for eight.”
Halley follows the pointed finger and nods her thanks. “Appreciate it.”
“I’ll get you a chair. We’ll shove it in somewhere.”
Halley weaves through the happy chaos that is the pizza joint. The delicious smells make her mouth water—she’s hungry. Everyone here is so cheerful. Happy. Engaged with their tablemates. There’s not a single cell phone or iPad in sight. It’s almost weird.
At the corner table for eight, she scans some faces until she finds the one she’s looking for. Boone’s in the back corner, where she can see the whole room—and be seen, of course. The blond hair is now a more natural mousy brown shot with silver, and she looks to be telling a joke; everyone is laughing uproariously and her face is flushed red with merriment. Or wine. There are jugs of Chianti on the tables, and white candles burn and drip wax down the edges of empty bottles. She approaches and waits for Tammy to notice her.
The hostess trots over with a chair. “Tammy, hey! Mind if we squeeze her in here?” She plops the chair down, and a couple of people shove over. “Congrats again on the deal,” the girl says and hurries off.
Tammy looks drunkenly terrified. Halley waves. “Hi. Remember me?”
Tammy is either too drunk to admit she doesn’t, or doesn’t want to seem rude, because she rearranges her face and pats the chair. “Of course I do. Have a seat.”
Halley does. “Hi. Thanks for this.”
Tammy stares. “I am sorry, but I can’t say that I recall your name. I have so many names in my head, characters and such, and I teach a lot of people.”
Halley leans over and says, “Nice to meet you, Ms. Boone. I’m Halley James. I think you might have known my sister. Catriona Handon.”
There is a sharp gasp from the writer, who then buries her face in her wine. Halley realizes the redness might be a more permanent feature from excessive alcohol intake rather than current merriment.
“I’m sorry to just appear like this,” she says quietly. “I really need to talk to you.”
“I don’t know if I have anything to say,” Boone replies. “Anyway, I’m busy at the moment. Obviously.”
It comes out “obvioushly” in a slur, and Halley nods her understanding. “Of course. I didn’t mean to interrupt your dinner. Could we talk after you finish eating? It’s very important, and I’ve come a long way.”
“So long ago,” Tammy says, almost to herself.
“Fifteen years. Please, Ms. Boone.”
Boone finishes her wine and pushes back from the table. “Ten minutes. Let’s go to the Steep and Brew. It will be quieter.”
She gets to her feet, excuses herself from her friends, and gestures for Halley to walk in front of her. They are halfway to the door when a rangy, handsome man with blue eyes and floppy brown hair steps into their path. He’s wearing chef’s whites. He feels familiar, but Halley has no idea why.
“Tammy! Going so soon? Did you enjoy the pizza?”
The woman’s entire demeanor changes. She shifts her body so her bosom is more prominent, and her face turns coquettish. “Noah Brockton, you’ve outdone yourself, again. No one can make a lobster scream like you.”
“Aw, shucks, ma’am,” he teases right back. “You heard them screaming all the way from Maine, I bet. Who’s your friend?”
Halley looks up to see the man watching her with a raised brow. His eyes are a peculiar shade of blue, very dark, and his stare is direct. “Halley James,” she says, sticking out a hand. “I’m visiting town.”
“Welcome to Brockville, Halley James.”
“Brockville, Brockton ... Is there a connection?”
“Sort of. My dad was the one who founded Brockville. I take it you haven’t read the brochure yet.” He laughs, and the joyful freedom of it makes her laugh, too.
“I guess I haven’t.”
