In Safe Hands (19 page)

A knock on the front door made her start. After the one o'clock call, she'd worked off her nervous energy on the treadmill for an hour before showering and returning to the computer just five minutes ago to dive back into research.

As she got up from her chair, her eyes flicked toward the clock in the corner of her laptop screen. It was still pretty early for Chris, and he would've texted her before showing up an hour and a half ahead of time. Walking to the front door, she pressed the intercom button.

“Hello?” She half expected to hear the voice of one of her recent guests, asking about some forgotten item. A young, unknown male answered, instead.

“Hi. Um…Ms. Little?”

“Yes?” Her tone was cautious. It was unusual for strangers to come to the door—not counting new friends recruited by Chris.

“I'm Tyler Coughlin. I work for Melcher's?”

“The grocery store?” Her unease faded to puzzlement.

“Yes, ma'am. I'm going to be delivering your groceries from now on.”

“You are?” She knew she sounded like a clueless idiot, but that was basically how she felt.

“Yes, ma'am. So…uh, can I come in?” Strangely enough, the hesitation in the kid's voice made her relax. He'd probably be shocked to know that he'd made her even more nervous than he was.

“Okay.” Her finger hovered over the unlock button for a long moment before she mentally told herself to stop being paranoid and just let the poor kid inside. He sounded like he couldn't be over sixteen. If she started being afraid of
children
, then she might as well give up and become a full-fledged Amish hoarding grandmother. With a resolute poke of her finger, she unlocked the exterior door.

Her hands were sweating as she unfastened the dead bolts. Taking a deep breath, she tried to rearrange her expression to something that didn't scream “terror” before opening the door.

As Tyler stepped into her entryway, she let out the air she'd been holding. Her initial estimate of his age looked to be right. He was tall, but gangly, and he had an ungainly puppy look, as if he hadn't completely finished growing into his body yet.

“Hi.” Giving her an uncertain smile, he tossed his too-long bangs out of his eyes. His gaze flickered up and down her body in a clumsily obvious attempt at secretly checking her out, before he blushed and turned his eyes toward the floor.

“Hi.” As she relocked the door, Daisy noted that her hands had quit sweating once she'd confirmed it was, indeed, just a kid. “What's this about groceries?”

His smile fell away, making room for confusion. “Uh, didn't you talk to Mr. Lee?”

“Mr. Lee?” The name sounded vaguely familiar.

“The owner of Melcher's?”

Daisy had to smile at the way their conversation seemed to be made up of questions, and she waved toward the kitchen doorway. “Want to come in?”

With a nod, he followed her. Automatically, she headed for the coffeemaker, but then she paused. Was sixteenish too young for coffee? The teenagers on TV seemed to drink an awful lot of it, but Daisy didn't want to stunt the kid's growth or anything.

“Are you old enough for coffee?” she asked, almost laughing at his startled expression.

His shoulders pulled back as he answered, “Sure. I drink it all the time.” His too-casual tone gave away the lie, but Daisy just shrugged. A cup of coffee wasn't going to kill him, and he was plenty tall already, so the threat of growth-stunting was minimal.

“Go ahead and pick one.” She gestured toward the round-robin display of different coffee flavors, all packaged in single-serving cups, sitting next to the brewer.

After a glance at her, as if checking to make sure she'd been serious about the offer, Tyler hurried toward the coffee. He examined the options with a gravity that made Daisy swallow a smile. It had been a long time since she'd been around any kids his age, and it was different because she'd been a teenager back then, too.

When he finally decided on mocha and held it up as if asking for her approval, Daisy nodded and held out her hand. Placing his chosen cup in her palm, he stepped back so she could reach the brewer.

As she popped it into the coffeemaker and got a mug out of the cupboard, she prompted, “Groceries?”

“Um…I'm not sure what's going on. Mr. Lee just told me I'd be bringing them to you every week. They don't do deliveries usually—or, like, ever, at least not in the month I've been working there—so I wasn't sure if you were going to text me with your list or what. That's why I stopped by here.”

Daisy only had to think about it for a few seconds before the Chris-shaped lightbulb turned on. “Excuse me,” she said to Tyler as she pulled her phone out of her hoodie pocket, found Chris's name in her contacts—her
two
pages of contacts—and tapped the screen.

“What's up, Dais?” He'd answered after only a single ring.

“Um…the grocery deliverer is here.”

“Really? That's great! I didn't think Mr. Lee was going to do it.”

Daisy opened her mouth, but then glanced at Tyler and closed it again, remembering that anything she said would be all over Simpson High School within a few hours. Scratch that—it would be all over Field County, if teenaged Simpsonites were as gossipy as their fully grown relatives.

“Dais? You there?”

“Yes.” She was still trying to figure out how to argue with him without giving Tyler a show. It seemed rude to go to another room and leave him alone in a stranger's house, especially when she was the one who'd made the call.

“What's wrong?”

Daisy gave up trying to figure out how to yell at Chris in code. “I'll talk to you about it when you're here later.”

“Are you mad?”

Since she was feeling more irritation than anger, but she couldn't explain without also saying it to Tyler—who wasn't even trying to hide the fact that he was avidly listening to every word of her side of the conversation—she just said, “Later, Chris.”

“You shouldn't have to wait for fresh food, Dais. If you want to make brownies, you should be able to fucking make them without having to wait for Gabe to wander into town.”

Daisy blinked in surprise. Chris hardly ever swore—at least, not in front of her.

“You can be mad at me if you want, Dais, but fresh vegetables and milk shouldn't be a special treat, for God's sake. I'm just—”

“Chris,” Daisy interrupted, since he was getting louder and louder, and soon both she and Tyler would be able to hear everything Chris was saying. “I'll talk to you when you get here.”

Ending the call, she forced a smile. “Your coffee's ready.”

He gave the mug a wary look before picking it up, making Daisy fairly sure he didn't actually drink coffee. The way he winced at the first bitter sip confirmed it. Hiding her amusement, she pulled out the sugar bowl, a spoon, and some milk, placing everything on the counter next to Tyler.

“Would it be easiest if I just texted you my grocery list?” she asked as he poured enough milk in his coffee to turn it tan.

“Sure.” He paused between adding his fifth and sixth spoonful of sugar to his mug in order to tug his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans and extend it toward her. As he finished adding sugar and then stirred the milky syrup that used to be coffee, she added her name and number to his phone and then called it so she'd have his number. Although she wasn't trying to pry, Daisy couldn't help but notice that his contact list was even shorter than hers.

Sympathy made her smile at him a little too warmly as she returned his phone. When his surprise turned into a mix of interest and hope, she realized her mistake. It wouldn't be good to make her new grocery-delivery boy think she was hitting on him.

“What grade are you in?” she asked, trying to think of questions she could ask that would emphasize the enormous, unsurmountable eight years or so that stretched between them without hurting the kid's feelings.

“I'll be a junior this fall.” His attempt at rounding up made her feel another surge of compassion for the boy. Despite that, she tried to keep her expression muted as she nodded.

“Do you have your license yet?” A quick glance at his mug showed that he'd barely made a dent in his coffee. Daisy held back a sigh. She was almost out of age-appropriate questions, and then there would be awkward silence. She just knew it.

“Not yet.” His mouth twisted. “I have my permit, but I still need to get more practice hours in, and my dad works a lot.”

The mention of his father made her realize something. “Oh! You said your last name is Coughlin. Your dad is the sheriff, then?” Now that she'd made the connection, Daisy could see the resemblance.

“Yes,” Tyler said, almost reluctantly.

She wondered why he didn't want to admit who his father was, but then she figured that it was a typical teen reaction to be embarrassed by his parents. Also, Sheriff Coughlin probably cast a pretty long shadow, making it easy for Tyler to disappear in it, especially in such a small town. Instead of commenting, she just nodded. After all, what was she supposed to say?
Your dad thinks I'm crazy
would probably not be appropriate.

Her silence apparently made Tyler nervous, though, since he rushed to speak. “What do you… I mean, do you need anything right away? Groceries, that is.”

“No, thanks. I'm actually fully stocked right now.” Despite her irritation with Chris for his high-handedness, Daisy felt a trill of excitement at the thought of having weekly groceries. Although she told herself to be grateful she wasn't going hungry, she always hated when she only had the canned and frozen options but was craving fresh food. Plus, with weekly deliveries, her chocolate stash would never be depleted. The thought killed any lingering annoyance with Chris. “How about next week? What's a good day?”

“Friday? I almost always work on Fridays. I don't have school, so I could get them to you earlier.”

“I'll text you Friday, then.”

“Okay.” Shifting his weight, he looked at his mug and then toward the sink, as if he wasn't sure what to do with his coffee.

“Here,” she said and held out a hand. “I'll take that. You probably need to get back to work.”

With an affirmative shrug, he handed her the coffee. “See you next week.”

“Bye, Tyler.”

He was still hesitating, so she moved toward the door and unfastened the dead bolts and chains. “Wait to go through the outer door until I have this one relocked, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Ms. Little.”

“You can call me Daisy,” she said, and he flushed and dropped his gaze.

“Thanks…Daisy.” His voice was just a mumble as he slipped through the doorway.

She quickly refastened the locks. Even though she'd asked him to wait, she wasn't sure if she trusted him to remember. Once the last chain was in place, she thumped the door, and she heard the exterior door open.

“Good kid,” she said under her breath and then snorted a laugh. She needed to hang out with teenagers more often. Tyler's awkwardness made her feel pretty proud of her social skills, despite having been locked away from almost everyone for eight years.

She turned away from the door. A pounding stopped her before she could go two steps. It was Chris's knock, and she frowned as she pushed the speaker button and the unlock button at the same time.

“You're early,” she said.

“You're mad,” was his response.

Rolling her eyes, she waited until the exterior door locked behind him and then undid the locks for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

Pulling open the door, she stepped back so Chris could step inside. “I'm not mad.”

She
might not be, but from the way a scowl rumpled his forehead, it looked like
he
was.

“It was the logical thing to do,” he said.

“I know.” She headed toward the study. Since she was pretty sure work was over for the day, she wanted to put a layer of cardboard between her and the one doll's teeth.

“If you know,” Chris said, following her, “then why are you mad?”

“I'm not,” she said over her shoulder. “Honestly. I'm irritated that you didn't talk to me about it first, but it's a good idea.”

“Oh.” That seemed to have knocked all the indignation out of him. “Why'd you hang up on me then?”

“Because Tyler was listening to everything I said, and I didn't want our business being discussed by a bunch of high schoolers.” She carefully returned the first doll to its box.

“Tyler? Rob's kid?”

“Yes.” Picking up the second doll, she held it closer to Chris. “Look. This one has teeth. Doesn't that make it just exponentially creepier?”

“Yes. Get that thing away from me.” Despite his words, he looked more relaxed than when he'd arrived. “So you're not mad.”

“I'm not mad,” she agreed, “although I might start getting annoyed if you keep asking me that.”

“I'll quit then.” His mouth relaxed into a little smile. “What was Tyler doing here?”

“He's going to be my grocery-delivery boy.” Folding down the box flaps, she frowned. “If he doesn't have his license, how's he going to deliver my groceries?”

Chris shrugged. “Bike maybe, or on a sled after it snows. You don't get much, so he could even carry them. It's less than a mile to the grocery store. I didn't know he was working at Melcher's.”

“Tyler said it's only been for a month.” She shut down her laptop. “I feel bad for the kid. He seems lonely. Even
I
have more contacts in my cell than he does.”

While he waited for her to finish, Chris leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “Why were you looking at his phone?”

“Putting my number in there,” she said, just to watch his eyebrows shoot toward his hairline. She wasn't disappointed. “So I can text him my grocery list.”