The Hatbox

The Hatbox / Chapter 10 - Part 2

"I'm bringing supper," Paula said after her nephew answered her call.

"Okay. You didn't have to."

"I know. I'm on my way."

As Paula pulled up to her nephew's house, she saw that the white jeep was now even closer to her car than it had been when she was parked at "King's."

On the short drive there, she had called Chloe asking if she minded closing the store by herself, and then she rehearsed the details that she would give Alex. She didn't want to tell him at all but knew that his privacy was the most important thing to her right now. He was all that she had left.

She knocked on the door and then, as customary, she didn't expect him to come and let her in. Her knock was a courtesy to let him know she was there. He would then listen for her key in the lock and then he knew it was her.

"It's me," she announced as usual, sticking her head inside the door before stepping through.

"In here," he said from the kitchen. He had made his way to the barstool. He did so purposely. After she called, he wanted to be seated before she arrived. He hated the look on his Aunt's face when he struggled to move about the house. Her heart was breaking, in front of him, which in turn broke his own.

"What's the occasion?" he asked with his attempt at excitement for her benefit. She often brought food, but it wasn't so spontaneous. She was reluctant to just drop in this way. His curiosity had peaked since they hung up.

She began to unpack the food onto the island. She turned to grab two plates from the cabinet behind her. She placed one in front of Alex as she looked up and saw him still staring at her. She smiled up at him, the grin as fake as it felt on her lips.

"Okay...spill it," he urged.

She placed his burger and fries onto his plate.

As she took a seat at the island, diagonal from him, she put her food onto her own plate and said, "Ketchup?"

"No. I'm good." He was still impatiently waiting, and she knew it.

She almost began blurting out what she knew as well as her suspicions. She wanted his input. To see if he agreed or disagreed or had some unknown information that would better explain the mystery. But as she took a breath, she thought, "Wait until after you both eat. He needs to eat."

"We'll talk after we eat."

"Is everything okay?"

"Yes...just eat. Matt added you some pink lemonade cake and told me to tell you it was from him."

"He's a good guy."

"He really is."

"Your stalling makes it incredibly hard to eat."

"Well...do it anyway."

She changed the subject and began talking about random boring details about some books that came into the store. She questioned where he was in his current book and if he was ready for another. She made a recommendation or two and he agreed that either would be fine when he finished. There was no hurry.

Almost fifteen minutes had passed, and he dangled the last fry in front of her as if to give her fair warning that the time of avoidance was soon to expire.

She held up her index finger to indicate a bit longer and she finished the last two bites of her burger.

She offered to refill his drink and he declined.

"Coffee might be good now," she suggested.

"That's fine...but start talking." The suspense was killing him. His Aunt was quiet and calm. She never overreacted and the fact that she was here, stalling about something to tell him, told him two things: It was important, and he may not have been able to eat after hearing it. Why else make him eat first? He knew this was big.

"The lady next door," she started.

"Oh God...how did I not see that coming?" he huffed.

"There's just a lot I don't know but I need to tell you what I do know."

She began by telling him that the lady had been asking about his uncle Brett at the pier, the bookstore, and the bakery.

"So you talked to her?"

"No, I wasn't there. I had stepped out and she spoke with Chloe."

His eyes were looking off into the distance, in deep thought.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know, but she told Chris that she works for a newspaper."

"Shit!" he stormed loudly.

He had subconsciously stood and nearly fell from his own weight. He took his seat again, more slowly and she saw the anger in his eyes.

"So, after all of those idiots tormented me for weeks. I finally get rid of them and they find another approach. They ask about my Uncle, trying to find another way to get the information. Does she know anything about him? I mean I barely do Paula. Is there anything you know that would make them ask about him? After all this time?"

"I can only guess it's related to your parents. Of course. I just don't know either. I wanted to tell you and come to some agreement."

"Like what?"

"I have been calling Nora for two days. When she calls me back, we'll have some more answers. But, until then...." she paused.

"Yes?"

"She's asking questions about our family now. I was going to wait but to be on the safe side, I feel it best if I pay her a visit."

"I'm coming," he forcibly insisted.

"I'm going to go over there...alone...and will politely ask why the newspaper is interested in Brett and will kindly let her know that no information will be provided to her or anyone else."

Alex took a deep breath, not satisfied with her reply but feeling the pain that still radiated through every inch of his lower body and knew he'd be a distraction. Maybe even an infatuation to the reporter. She may start in on him, like they all did, wanting to know more details like if he was doing okay? They didn't care about him. The family name sold papers. He wasn't going to be any part of that.

"Hurry back or I'm calling the police. She could be a serial killer."

"She's a reporter, not a killer."

"I hope for your sake, you're right."

He added the coy humor on top of his frustration for her benefit. Not his own. He wanted to march over there, beat on the door, and demand that she leaves. He didn't care about getting any answers.

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