And Then What?. D. Graham R.
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pack for Tofino tomorrow. It will be nice to just have fun. Okay, I’m calming down. I can do this.”
Sophie looked at me as if she knew there was something more wrong with me than just the stress of the party, but she didn’t ask. Truthfully, she was right. My high-strung mood had more to do with a vision I’d had earlier, but exhaustion, unrealistic expectations, and an over-estimation of what I was capable of achieving weren’t helping either.
“How’s Doug?” I asked to turn the focus away from me.
Sophie shrugged and transferred some turkey meatballs into a serving dish. She stabbed a toothpick into each one with more force than was necessary. “Good, I guess. The band is playing in Moscow tonight.”
“Cool. Where’s the next stop on the tour?”
“Berlin.”
“Did he get all his stuff moved into his new condo before they had to leave?”
“No. His assistant is finishing everything while he’s gone.” She stabbed the last couple of toothpicks with increasing force.
“Assistant? Wow. When did he get an assistant?”
She shrugged and poured herself a glass of wine. I was going to ask more questions, but she walked away and took the bottle with her into the living room to top up other people’s glasses. Murphy’s girlfriend Rene had arrived. Although she normally drank wine, she politely declined and then smiled adoringly at Murphy. He stretched his massive arm across her shoulder to squeeze her into his side, looking all proud. Whoa. I made eye contact with him in an attempt to ask with my expression if that gesture meant what I thought it meant, and if it did mean that, did Trevor know? He shot me an amused but otherwise unrevealing look. The timer buzzed for the quiches. He was saved by the bell. Temporarily. I planned to get to the bottom of that exchange. I rushed into the kitchen and took the quiche out of the oven, then slid the tins of apple-cinnamon muffins in—an unconventional replacement for a birthday cake, but they were my specialty and Trevor’s favourite. The recipe was originally my grandmother’s, and ever since he moved to Britannia Beach when he was seven years old, Trevor would come over to the Inn each morning for a fresh, home-made, apple-cinnamon muffin.
The condo was packed and getting hotter. I opened the sliding glass door that led to the patio and took a few deep breaths of the cool, rainy spring air. Murphy walked past me into the kitchen to load up a plate with chicken wings.
I spun around and rested my butt on the counter, with my arms crossed. In some ways it was bizarre to think of someone the same age as Trevor already being a dad. But I’d known Murphy since he and Trevor became best friends as kids, and Murphy had always been both big and mature for his age. He’d moved out of his mom’s house when he was seventeen. Then, after he graduated high school, he went straight into training at the Justice Institute and already had a stable career as a paramedic. Rene was twenty-four and a nurse, who owned her own place. It made sense that they were in a position to start a family. If that’s what their knowing look was about. “So, anything new with you and Rene?”
“Nope. Same old same old.” He tossed a cherry tomato up in the air and caught it in his mouth.
“Are you sure? Nothing new? Nothing developing?”
He smiled and shook his head to deny it. His smile is what gave him away.
“Oh my God, Murphy. That is so exciting.”
He held his hands up in defense. “What’s so exciting? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t say anything.”
I lunged over and hugged him around the waist. “Have you told Trevor yet?”
“Uh.” He glanced over his shoulder. “There’s nothing to tell. Are you having one of your Spidey senses or something?”
“No. I had a vision this morning but it wasn’t about you and Rene. I just noticed that she’s not drinking and you look all happy and goofy. There’s something to tell, isn’t there?”
He rolled his eyes and twisted the cap off a beer. “Zip it.”
I bounced up and down on my toes, about to burst from the news. “When can I unzip it?”
He shook his head in an attempt to discourage my enthusiasm as Rene joined us in the kitchen. He shot me a cautionary glare.
She smiled and slid in next to him. “Sorry to interrupt, but I have to go to back to work soon. What time is Trevor supposed to arrive?”
“Eight.” I looked at the clock on the stove, which showed eight forty-five. “What time do you have?” I asked Murphy.
He took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Eight forty-five.”
“Are you sure?”
We both knew it was out of character for Trevor to be late, but Murphy said, “He probably got caught up in traffic.”
“For forty-five minutes? He would have called if he was going to be this late.” I texted him to ask if he was on his way.
Murphy’s eyes darted away from mine. He knew I was right.
“He’ll be here.” Murphy reached across the counter, grabbed a couple of pieces of sushi, and popped them both into his mouth, probably so he wouldn’t be able to say anything. He glanced at me one more time, then stretched his arm across Rene’s shoulder and walked away.
Trevor still hadn’t responded to my text when Sophie stepped into the kitchen to get a new bottle of wine. She had on a black mini skirt and she’d put on one of my mom’s frilly white aprons so she looked like a French maid. The guys seemed to be enjoying it.
“Rene’s not drinking,” she said with a curious eyebrow lift.
Partly to avoid divulging anything Murphy wouldn’t want me to, and partly because I was actually starting to worry, I said, “Trevor’s almost an hour late.”
She waved her hand to dismiss my concern. “Don’t worry about it. You know what he’s like. He probably came across an accident and helped some people who needed saving or something. What did you tell him you guys were going to be doing?”
“Nothing specific. I didn’t want to sound suspicious, so I just said come over around eight.”
“Maybe he didn’t realize it was a set plan. Just call him.”
“Okay, yeah. Right. Just call him.” I pulled out my phone and locked myself in the bathroom so he wouldn’t hear the music or the people and ruin the surprise. It rang and rang and then his voicemail kicked in. “Hi, Trev. Just wondering if everything is all right? I thought we were supposed to meet at my place at eight. Call me.”
All of his friends and the guys from Search and Rescue shot awkward glances at me when I returned to the living room. To avoid their stares I ducked back into the kitchen and updated Sophie. “He didn’t answer,” I mumbled.
Sophie didn’t say anything and I could tell by her silence that she didn’t think it was good.
Trevor’s dad wandered into the kitchen and ate a few chicken wings before he realized there was tension. “What’s going on?”
“Trevor was supposed to be here at eight and he isn’t answering his phone,” I said.
Jim grabbed another chicken wing. “He’ll be here.” He piled a few other appetizers on a plate, then went back into the living room. When he sat back down, he leaned over to say something to Murphy. Murphy nodded and then got off the couch, walked towards the hallway, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He rested up against the wall with his enormous back to me. Less than a minute later, he went back to sit beside Jim on the couch and whispered something. They both turned to look at me. When they saw that I was staring at them they both forced smiles before they turned back and pretended to watch the game.
By nine-fifteen, more people started asking when Trevor was supposed to be arriving.