Page 86 of The Summer Show
Her instructions were clear.
On the way to the kitchen for life-giving coffee, I opened the back door and nudged her outside. Risky. I could have lost a leg. But she was feeling benevolent and let me keep the limb for another day.
I sat at the kitchen table with my coffee and wondered what the heck I was supposed to do now. I had money—lots of money—in the bank because the show paid preternaturally fast. When I mentioned the speed to Ana a few minutes later, she nodded.
“Probably they paid you as fast as possible to avoid taxes.”
“How does that avoid taxes?”
“It doesn’t, but the production company’s accountant will probably use some kind of ‘but the money was in our hands for almost no time at all!’ defense to get their tax bill decreased.”
“Does that work?”
“Maybe? You never know in Greece.” She poured herself a mug of coffee, doctored the bean water with sugar and the canned evaporated milk that made Greek-American coffee taste so lush. Coffee in hand, she sat across the table from me. “Spill.”
“My coffee? Never!”
“Your guts.”
I faceplanted on the table. “I’ve got a problem,” I said to the plastic tablecloth. “A huge problem. Well, not that huge. Under six-foot. But the problem seems a lot bigger. Taller. Why do you have a plastic tablecloth, anyway?”
“It’s a Greek thing. Ever since I moved here, my Greek DNA has been asserting itself in weird ways.” She sipped her coffee. “Can you smell burnt toast right now?”
“What? No! I’m not having a stroke. I’ve got feelings for Nick.” I flicked my gaze up at her without lifting my head. “You know, your brother. Sorry.”
“Okay, hold up. First of all, don’t be sorry. I love my brother and I love you. Second of all, tell me something I didn’t already know.”
That got my face off the tabletop. I clutched my chest with all the flair of a siren from Hollywood’s silent era. “How did you know?”
“Probably you don’t know this about me, but I was born with eyes.”
“Very funny.”
“Thanks, I try. But it’s obvious to anyone who looks at the two of you that you’re into each other. I don’t know what’s up with my brother lately, but he’s changed. Grown up, I guess? I mean, it’s more than that, but when he’s around you, it’s like he’s always suppressing a smile.”
I hated myself a teensy bit for my next question. “What was he like with Taylor?”
“Not himself, and not in a positive way. Taylor does this thing where she pushes men to be better, but in the way she wants. Better at being richer. What they want, who they are, none of it matters. Thanos wasn’t happy when he was with her, I know that much. He was non-stop busy, pushing himself to work harder for a job he didn’t even want. As for Nick, I don’t know, I think he’s been through some things and now it feels like he’s starting to come out the other side, and I suspect it’s because of you.”
“I wish I had that kind of magic.”
“But you do. I used to see it all the time at Bush Lake. There’s a reason Marti brings the shy, withdrawn kids to the library, and it’s not just because of the library books. It’s because of you. And whatever magic, wonderful thing you do, it’s pulling Nick’s head out of his tush.”
Nick’s head wasn’t up his butt, and Ana never would have phrased it that way had she known what happened to Bryan, but I wouldn’t break his trust, not even for my best friend. If he wanted to tell his family, he would.
Was I some sort of magician?
Hardly. I didn’t feel magic. If I’d possessed any, surely I would have used some of it on myself.
Maybe that’s not how magic works, though. Maybe it’s not self-serving. Magic was something we did and gave to others. I twisted and turned the notion in my head and it settled into place with a satisfying click. When children came to my library with a chest full of hurt, I was able to help them because I loved them all and wanted to do good.
And that was the thing about Nick: I loved him.
There was no denying the way my heart and head were overflowing.
I winced. “I’m think I’m a little bit in love with him.”
“I know.”