“Paula,” I whispered.
“It’s a yard sale,” the patron retorted. “You’re supposed to haggle.”
“It’s an everything must go because your dead husband was a serious dickhead sale and that means you pay the price my girl spent her time writing on the box and walk away happy you got yourself one freaking huge-ass bargain,” Paula returned.
“You don’t have to curse,” the patron shot back.
“Honey, you just got here but it’s been pandemonium seein’ as everything that’s been carted away was the definition of huge-ass bargain. And her dead husband wanted her dead. There is no other word for a man like that but dickhead,” Paula parried and the patron looked at me.
“Yeah, I read that. That’s just awful. Though, you done real good for yourself, hooking up with Coop. And you’re climbing the best dressed list. I saw you in your bikini on that beach on that island and you looked real good.”
I stared. Then I breathed, “What?”
“You were on a beach in a white bikini and you were tan, just like now. They had a special summer edition of beach babes on youwearitwell.com and you landed the number four slot,” the woman told me.
“You’re moving up,” Gitte muttered. “Told you.”
Gitte sounded happy.
I was freaked.
The patron kept the information flowing, “Same bikini, different picture, you were wearin’ like, a short, see-through sarong, holding hands with Coop walking up the beach on bodiesbygod.com and you got on last week’s edition, number six on the Curvy Girls list.”
Oh. My. God!
People were taking pictures of me. Of us! And I was in a bikini! And I didn’t even know it!
Sure, it happened before but that was Tilda. Tilda was rude and rabid. Tilda doing it wasn’t a surprise.
This was.
I had no idea.
The throb in my head became less dull and I checked myself from glancing around frantically as paranoia set in that right that very moment someone was taking a photo of me that would eventually be posted somewhere I didn’t know it would be.
“I need an aspirin,” I muttered.
“I got aspirin in my purse in the house. I’ll go get you one,” Missy offered then headed toward the house.
“So, will you take three dollars for this box?” the woman brought matters back in hand.
Again, before I could answer, Paula did. “No.”
“But –” she started.
“Seriously? Not only is it a bargain, you’re buying it from Coop’s girlfriend. You can tell all your friends that and that you spoke to her too. That makes it a serious bargain,” Paula returned.
“Hadn’t thought of that,” the woman muttered.
“Five dollars,” Paula stated firmly, holding out her hand palm up.
The woman glanced at the box then at me then at the house where I was certain she’d seen Sam disappear. Then she went for her purse.
I left Paula to it, wandered away and sat in the grass. I was sipping my lemonade and still controlling the urge to survey my surroundings to make certain no one was aiming a camera (or other more deadly technology) at me when Gitte lithely fell to the grass beside me.
Then she asked Paula’s question.
“You okay?”
I pulled in a breath then turned my head to look at her.
“I have a headache.”
She nodded and looked across the yard at the half a dozen people milling about and pawing through stuff.
“Kyle is…” she started quietly then trailed off.
When she didn’t say more, I leaned into her, bumping her with my shoulder and she looked at me.
“Kyle is what?”
“He cried when Cooter died.”
I blinked.
Whoa. Shocker.
Then I asked, “He did?”
“Yeah,” she answered. “A lot.”
I didn’t know what to make of this.
“I –” I started.
“Relieved,” she whispered, I then knew what to make of it and I snapped my mouth shut. “If it had gone on much longer, Kia, he would have been Milo Cloverfield. I know it.”
Oh God.
I closed my eyes.
What I had done to my family.
Oh God, what I had done.
“He likes Sam,” she said and I opened my eyes. “He likes him very much. And not because he’s wealthy, not because he’s famous but because he cares about you in a healthy way.”
There it was, my opening to throw out what was worrying me and pick it apart with Gitte. Gitte wasn’t only strong, she was cool, she was smart and she had the ability to say it like it was without hurting your feelings. She, too, had more than once brought up the topic of Cooter and she, too, had been shut down by me on said topic.
But she could and probably would talk to Kyle about anything I shared with her. And Kyle had Sam on speed dial. And further, Kyle could let something slip; it wouldn’t be the first time. Heck, half the times I got in trouble when I was a kid was because Kyle had a big mouth.
No.
Gitte was out.
“I’m glad,” I told her.
“He’s still relieved,” she told me. “We both are.” She looked to the yard again and shared, “I think half of why he was so intent on driving up was that he was concerned you were with another man, even one like Sam who he admired.” Her eyes came back to me. “But anyone can be something for the public and something else privately. We were both very happy to know Sam is who Sam really is.”
Yep. I had done a number on my family.
“He is,” I assured her even though I wasn’t feeling so assured. Still, one thing I did know was that he was far better than Cooter. Far, far better.
“You need to believe in this,” she told me softly.
“Sorry?”
“In you. In Sam.” She smiled at me. “I see good things.”
I did too.
Until last night.
She continued, “You don’t believe in it, do you?”
“We’ve known each other a month.”
“You go to bed beside him; he goes to bed beside you. How long has that been going on?”
I pressed my lips together and tried to calculate it.
Then I gave up and admitted, “Well, most of that month.”
Gitte smiled again. “I believe this.”
“Sam didn’t waste a lot of time,” I pointed out the obvious.
Her smile got bigger. “I believe this too. You, an American on vacation in Italy, he wouldn’t wish to let you slip through his fingers.”