Sure, I had his new cell phone number, but I could only imagine how delighted he'd be to hear from menow.
Somehow, I vowed, I'd make things right between us. Even if I'd ruined any chances of us being together, at least I could tell him that I was sorry for thinking the worst of him.
But first things first.I looked to Waverly and said, "So tell me. How'd you get the phone? Did you steal it or something?"
She made a sound of annoyance. "Oh, so first I'm a liar, and now I’m a thief? You reallyarecrazy. You know that?"
Maybe I was.But I wasn'tsocrazy that I'd take Waverly at her word. With sudden inspiration, I said, "Maybe I should check your luggage." And with that, I turned toward the bedrooms.
She was off the couch in an instant. "You wouldn't!"
She was right. I wouldn't.And now, I didn't need to, because resting on the sofa behind where Waverly had been sitting, was Brody's old cell phone, contained in its familiar rugged black case.
"I knew it!" I lunged for the phone just as Waverly turned back to look.
"Hey!" she said. "That's mine."
"Nice try," I said, snatching the phone off the couch. I gripped it tight and jostled my way past her, heading toward my bedroom.
She hollered out after me, "I was gonna give it back!"
Without breaking stride, I called over my shoulder, "Sure you were!"
"And the battery was dead!" she called. "I had to charge it myself."
"Oh, boo hoo!" I called back.
Just as I reached my bedroom door, Waverly yelled, "And I found it in the coat closet. How wasIsupposed to know whose it was?"
She knew.Of this, I was certain – just as I was certain that it would take a lot more than the return of Brody's cell phone to make things right between us.
But hey, it was a start, right?
Chapter 69
Arden
Brody eyed the plate of oatmeal cookies that I held out between us. With a frown, he asked, "What are those?"
"Cookies." I summoned up a smile. "Oatmealcookies. My grandmother's. I mean, they're nothercookies exactly, because I made them on my own. But they're her recipe. And I remember you saying a few weeks ago that you'd never had the homemade kind, so…" I let my words trail off as I nudged the plate closer. "Try one. I made them just last night."
It was early Monday morning, barely past six-thirty. I'd been standing out on the front porch of my grandparent's place since sunrise, waiting for Brody to show up.
As expected, he'd been the very first person to arrive, which was a huge relief, considering that the last thing I wanted now was an audience.
With a dismissive shrug, he said, "I already ate."
"Oh." I hesitated. "Well, if you don't want one now, maybe you could put them in your truck for later."
Without making any move to take them, he said, "What's this about?"
"Alright. The truth is, I owe you an apology." I lifted the cookies higher. "And hey, how about a peace offering, too?"
His eyes were dark, and his lips were compressed into a thin, angry line. He looked like he'd rather grind my cookies into dust than trust me not to poison him with baked goods. In a tight voice, he said, "An apology for what?"
I glanced toward the front door. "Do you want to talk inside?"
"No."
