“Maybe after.” He met Michelle’s gaze, tried not to flinch from the loss he saw there. It was all he could see, all he could feel beyond the pain. “I need to see the locket. I can’t get it clear. Too much emotion attached to it.” He held out his hand.
Eyebrows raised, Michelle took his hand, her eyes widening. The image snapped into focus, as vivid as if it hung in front of him. And he knew.
He pushed himself up, every muscle screaming in protest, and limped to the long black marble counter. Michelle followed after him. “No, it can’t be there. I haven’t worn it in the shop all week.”
“Hush,” Penn said. “Let him do this.”
The locket in his head got brighter, almost blinding, the closer he got to the counter. One hand caught the edge, the marble cold under his fingers as he slid them along the length of it. He hunched over the counter as a flash burst through his head. Shaking fingers closed over a scarf on the shelf under the counter. He dragged it up, the soft wool feeling like pounds instead of ounces. With a harsh breath he dropped it on the counter.
The locket glinted against the black marble.
“Oh God.” Michelle touched the locket. As soon as she did, the pain died, the image fading from his mind. “Oh, my God.” Scooping up the locket, she wrapped her arms around Zach. “Thank you.”
He felt her shaking, heard the tears in her voice. He still didn’t know how to deal with this part of it. The gratitude, the gushing emotion. He patted her back, awkward, let her hold on to him.
“The locket is important to her.” Penn stepped into his line of sight, one hand rubbing Michelle’s back. “It belonged to her mother.”
“I know.” Zach swallowed, not saying what else he knew.
That her mother died in a car accident. That the locket was the only thing to survive the fire that engulfed the car on impact. He hated the intimate details he learned about the people, the items. But he kept them to himself. He certainly wouldn’t want someone spewing out his secrets. The ones he remembered, anyway.
Michelle finally let him go, then promptly shoved him on the stool behind the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed to sit?”
Penn chimed in before Zach had the chance. “Because you were too busy slobbering all over him. Ready for that sandwich now?” He nodded, knowing better than to get in the middle of two women bickering. Mom and Annie did it all the time, and their friendship stayed intact. “Sit here,” she said. “And I’ll—why am I smelling patchouli? We don’t carry any of that disgusting hippie scent.” She headed to a shelf, and Zach caught a whiff of it just before she let out a gasp. “Oh, Lord, Diana. You nearly scared the life out of me.”
A short, chubby woman stepped out of a niche created by two shelves. Zach knew who it was before she appeared, and regretted his earlier impulse. She was the spooky-eyed woman he ran into on the street, wearing the black cloak that would have been perfect for Halloween. The woman who lost her key, who needed something so badly it kept her up at night.
“I did not wish to interfere.” She studied Zach, those spooky eyes intense in a way that made his neck hair itchy. “You were obviously too busy to attend to another patron.”
Penn crossed her arms. Zach could almost see the temper rolling off her, but she kept her voice level. “What can I do for you?”
Diana pushed one hand through her dull brown hair. It made her look even more unhealthy. “I would like to know if my order arrived.”
“Not yet,” Michelle said, stepping between the two of them. “I just got the email for the tracking. It will be here by the end of the week.”
Diana frowned. “And it would have been faster had I gone to Scotland and fetched it myself.” She lifted her chin. “I will accept this delay, but do not expect orders from me in the future.” Her gaze moved past them, and landed on Zach. Those pale grey eyes studied
Eyebrows raised, Michelle took his hand, her eyes widening. The image snapped into focus, as vivid as if it hung in front of him. And he knew.
He pushed himself up, every muscle screaming in protest, and limped to the long black marble counter. Michelle followed after him. “No, it can’t be there. I haven’t worn it in the shop all week.”
“Hush,” Penn said. “Let him do this.”
The locket in his head got brighter, almost blinding, the closer he got to the counter. One hand caught the edge, the marble cold under his fingers as he slid them along the length of it. He hunched over the counter as a flash burst through his head. Shaking fingers closed over a scarf on the shelf under the counter. He dragged it up, the soft wool feeling like pounds instead of ounces. With a harsh breath he dropped it on the counter.
The locket glinted against the black marble.
“Oh God.” Michelle touched the locket. As soon as she did, the pain died, the image fading from his mind. “Oh, my God.” Scooping up the locket, she wrapped her arms around Zach. “Thank you.”
He felt her shaking, heard the tears in her voice. He still didn’t know how to deal with this part of it. The gratitude, the gushing emotion. He patted her back, awkward, let her hold on to him.
“The locket is important to her.” Penn stepped into his line of sight, one hand rubbing Michelle’s back. “It belonged to her mother.”
“I know.” Zach swallowed, not saying what else he knew.
That her mother died in a car accident. That the locket was the only thing to survive the fire that engulfed the car on impact. He hated the intimate details he learned about the people, the items. But he kept them to himself. He certainly wouldn’t want someone spewing out his secrets. The ones he remembered, anyway.
Michelle finally let him go, then promptly shoved him on the stool behind the counter. “Why didn’t you tell me you needed to sit?”
Penn chimed in before Zach had the chance. “Because you were too busy slobbering all over him. Ready for that sandwich now?” He nodded, knowing better than to get in the middle of two women bickering. Mom and Annie did it all the time, and their friendship stayed intact. “Sit here,” she said. “And I’ll—why am I smelling patchouli? We don’t carry any of that disgusting hippie scent.” She headed to a shelf, and Zach caught a whiff of it just before she let out a gasp. “Oh, Lord, Diana. You nearly scared the life out of me.”
A short, chubby woman stepped out of a niche created by two shelves. Zach knew who it was before she appeared, and regretted his earlier impulse. She was the spooky-eyed woman he ran into on the street, wearing the black cloak that would have been perfect for Halloween. The woman who lost her key, who needed something so badly it kept her up at night.
“I did not wish to interfere.” She studied Zach, those spooky eyes intense in a way that made his neck hair itchy. “You were obviously too busy to attend to another patron.”
Penn crossed her arms. Zach could almost see the temper rolling off her, but she kept her voice level. “What can I do for you?”
Diana pushed one hand through her dull brown hair. It made her look even more unhealthy. “I would like to know if my order arrived.”
“Not yet,” Michelle said, stepping between the two of them. “I just got the email for the tracking. It will be here by the end of the week.”
Diana frowned. “And it would have been faster had I gone to Scotland and fetched it myself.” She lifted her chin. “I will accept this delay, but do not expect orders from me in the future.” Her gaze moved past them, and landed on Zach. Those pale grey eyes studied
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