Suede to Rest Read Online Free PDF Page B

stare at the doorknob. Something sounded against the door, like nails on a chalkboard. I grabbed the keys from the drawer under the register and ran to the corner of the store, to a circular staircase that led to the apartment above the store. I fumbled with the keys, almost dropping them twice. When I found one that fit, I unlocked the door and locked it behind me. I sank to the floor at the end of the rose-pink floral carpet runner that led down the hall and hugged my knees, scared to be alone.
    As I sat with my back against the door, I listened for sounds—any sounds that indicated that I hadn’t imagined that someone was outside, waiting to break in. I heard nothing but silence.
    This was silly. Just because my car had been vandalized and a person was standing at the end of the alley behind the store didn’t mean I had anything to worry about. I was safe in the apartment.
    I waited a few minutes, and then crept back downstairs. My cell phone sat on the corner of the wrap stand. I picked it up and carried it to the staircase, sitting on the third rung from the bottom. I pulled up my favorites menu and called Carson in Los Angeles. Though it now seemed like I was safe inside the store, I wanted to talk to someone who could comfort me, who would tell me everything would be okay.
    â€œPoly? Hold on, this is a bad connection. Let me get to the kitchen.”
    Carson, I figured correctly, was at our apartment. The cell phone reception was variable at best, and we’d learned which rooms better served our conversations. “Can you hear me now?”
    â€œYes. Listen, my battery’s low and I don’t have my charger,” I said in a hushed voice.
    â€œWhy are you whispering?”
    â€œI’m trapped inside the fabric store and I think there might be somebody outside trying to get me.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, you’re trapped in the store?”
    I thought about Charlie’s warning. “I went outside to throw out the trash and saw a man in the alley watching me. And after I locked the door I thought I heard something at the door.”
    â€œCalm down. You always had an active imagination. Did you call the cops?”
    â€œNo, I called you.”
    â€œThere’s not a lot I can do from Los Angeles.”
    â€œI don’t want you to
do
anything, I just wanted to hear your voice. Maybe I did imagine the whole thing. Can’t we just talk for a couple of minutes?”
    â€œWe could have talked over dinner if you’d come home like I expected you to. It’s Friday. I got frittatas.”
    â€œI’ll eat them when I get back,” I said absentmindedly, listening from the stairs for sounds of forced entry in progress.
    â€œFrittatas don’t keep. Are you even listening to me?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDon’t try to be cute.”
    I had a very strong urge to say I wasn’t trying, but it seemed Carson wasn’t in a playful mood. Carson was rarely in a playful mood, at least not lately. But turn him loose at happy hour with the rest of his banker friends and he was the life of the party. He used to be that way with me, and I figured we’d get back there someday when I got serious about the “marriage and our future” discussion.
    â€œWhat time do you expect to be back tomorrow?” he asked.
    â€œI don’t know if I’ll be back tomorrow.”
    â€œI thought this was a cut-and-dried case of inheritance and resell?”
    â€œIt’s a little more complicated than that,” I said. “My car was vandalized. Before you say anything, I took it to a mechanic. It’ll be ready in the morning.”
    â€œDid you call the police?”
    â€œIt’s no big thing, Carson. Some locals decided to play a joke on me. So I get it fixed and I leave in the morning. This just gives me time to check out the store and decide what I want to do.”
    â€œYou should sign a couple of papers to take ownership then