Chapter 21
Bella could not help but relish the burn as she trudged up the stairs for the fourth time that morning. Her palms were sweaty and her thighs were cramping, and though she was afraid that the splintery wood would slip from her hands, she forced herself to keep her grip. Just a little further, she thought. The top of the staircase was so close…
"Pick up your end a little, Bella," came Rose's strained voice as she reached the top. Bella hoisted her end up as high as she could manage, grimacing as her arms shook. She could see only a part of Rose from her vantage point, but she knew that her friend was every bit as uncomfortable as she was. Rose was bent almost in half at the middle with her fingertips clinging to the rough edge of the dining table, her hair falling loose from its bun as she panted, a furrow between her brows.
Why couldn't they have chosen the simple folding table—the one that Bella had rushed to at the old thrift store?
"That's not a dining table," Rose had scolded. "There's a perfectly nice wooden one right over here. It'll match those cabinets…"
Well, thought Bella, as she puffed out a frustrated breath, What do you have to say about this table now, Rosalie?
With an almighty grunt and a shove that hurt her shoulders, Bella wedged herself underneath her end of the table—dangling precariously over the edge of the narrow staircase—and thrust her end up high enough for Rose to pull it forward, all four legs finally planted on the third-floor landing.
Bella, with a laugh of triumph, slumped down on the staircase, resting her head on the wall.
"Thank god," said Rose, leaning on the table. "I thought we were screwed."
"Yeah," panted Bella. "So did I."
"Why did you pick such a heavy table?"
"Excuse me," laughed Bella, "but the table I wanted weighed about ten pounds. And it folded."
Rosalie snorted.
"This one's nicer," she dismissed. "Still, though… I think we almost had to call for reinforcements."
Bella grimaced.
"We made it," she said, stretching herself up again. She climbed the last few stairs with relative ease—this was the last piece of large furniture that had to be moved, and she and Rose had done it all themselves.
"I'm sure we could get some manpower," Rose had argued. "We've still got a week before you move in, and we're already using Jasper's truck…"
"I'd rather not," said Bella. She knew she would regret that later on—it would definitely do her some good to have some helping hands on her side when it came time to shuffle herself into the apartment she had managed to snag. But she also knew—and more importantly, Rosalie knew—that if she asked for reinforcements, there was one particular helper that would come out with overpowering enthusiasm.
She didn't think she was quite ready for that just yet.
"Jasper will be proud," said Rose, breaking Bella from her musings. Bella bit her lip and blinked her distraction away, taking up her end of the table again. It was still heavy—her arms were aching—but lifting it a few inches to shuffle it awkwardly through the heavy door of the apartment was nothing compared to the feat they had just accomplished.
"Tell him to pay up," Bella said. She couldn't help the wry smile that crossed her face. Jasper had been thoroughly convinced, and he hadn't hesitated to let her know it, that before the day was out, Bella would be begging for some "muscle". This speech, made in the storeroom of Alice's café just after closing a few days prior, had been met with scorn from Bella and miffed indignation from Alice herself. Rosalie, lounging against the counter with her iced coffee in hand, simply laughed and asked Jasper just how much money he was willing to put down.
"Damn right I will," said Rosalie. Bella, awkward and bumbling, accidentally kicked the doorstop out from the heavy metal door and jumped when it slammed shut behind her. The two women carefully parked the table on the far wall across from the kitchen sink, where the floor had already been swept and washed.
"That dumbass is out fifty bucks!" Rose slid one of the matching chairs—they had only been able to find three—into its place.
"Now we've only got boxes," grimaced Bella. "Thanks again for helping…"
"No problem," smiled Rose. "I'm glad we found a place."
"Yeah, me too." Bella had begun to wonder, especially after those disastrous first weeks of searching, whether or not she'd ever be able to find something worth her while. Everything within her price range had fallen somewhere on a scale between seedy and horrifying, and anything half-decent would have cost her far more than she could afford. As it was, Bella wasn't entirely sure she wouldn't need a second job to keep up with the bills in this place, but for now, she was simply glad for a roof over her head.
"Let's go get the last of it," said Rose, cracking her back as she stood. "No use dawdling when we've still got work to do."
"Right," said Bella, unable to resist another look around her new place. "Let's go."
It was only that night, once Rose had said her final goodbye, that Bella truly understood the reality of her new situation. Her new home was not some fancy mansion in luxurious Beverly Hills like her brother's—she didn't have a Jacuzzi tub, or sprawling green grass, or shiny new appliances. Her new home had exactly four rooms—living room, kitchen, bathroom, and a tiny bedroom with a squeaky window that needed a new screen to keep the bugs out. The thrift shop she and Rose had torn apart on their way from Invictus had not held a wide array of furnishings, but alongside her new table and chairs, she had managed to snag a mattress for the old twin bed, a futon, a small end table, a coffee table for the living room, and much to her delight, an ancient old bookshelf that looked like it had been through both World Wars.
The apartment was hot and muggy, and there was a vague scent of mothballs from the old box of clothes in the bedroom closet, but despite all this, Bella was happy.
This house was hers, and she couldn't help but love it.
As she sat on the floor in the dark living room, Bella carefully unpacked the boxes that had been brought up that morning. While Bella had begun to set herself up that afternoon, Rose had graciously volunteered to drive Jasper's truck up to Beverly Hills to pick up some of Bella's boxes from Emmett's garage. Bella had only briefly spoken with Emmett himself—he knew she was moving into her new apartment today—but she still didn't feel ready to meet him face-to-face. She knew that sooner or later she would have to meet up with him again, but she had no idea what she would say to him when she did.
When Rose had come back with the truck and some boxes, Bella had been overjoyed to see her books among them. Rose had laughed at her when she'd hopped lithely into the back of the truck and scooped that one up, trying not to let Rose see her struggling with the weight. She had made it up the stairs just in time to let it slip from her hands and come crashing down, spilling books all over her kitchen floor just as Rose appeared holding a box of clothes.
"Nice one, Bella," she teased, stepping carefully over the mess. Bella, blushing red, had haphazardly shoved the thick volumes back into the box so she could nudge it into the living room with her foot, ignoring Rose's laughter.
When the two of them returned to the truck, each managing another box, Rose spoke again.
"Emmett sends his regards," she said. Her tone was light and airy but Bella could sense something else—a sort of strange apprehension—underneath.
"Oh yeah?" she said, pressing her way up the staircase.
"Yeah," said Rose. "I told him where you are."
"Hm."
"I hope that's okay," said Rose. She let Bella through the apartment door first.
"That's fine," said Bella. She had promised Emmett on at least two occasions—over the phone, of course—that she would let him know where she was settling.
"He, uh, wants to know if he can stop by sometime," said Rose.
Bella became suddenly aware that she could no longer see the titles of the books she was stacking. The sky outside had darkened—it had been a bright, blushing pink when she'd first sat down—and while the glow from the large, full moon streamed in through her bare windows, it was not enough for her to get anything done.
Carefully, she scooted in the general direction of the futon, thankful that she had plugged in her reading lamp while she could still see. Pawing her way carefully along the floor—she refused to walk, knowing she would trip and fall—she found the cord and the switch with the little wheel. The lamp was bright and she blinked in the harsh light, turning her face away to survey the carnage.
Boxes were littered across the living room floor and there was a pile of packing peanuts heaped lazily in the corner. In the middle of the floor, where she had been unboxing her books, was a wad of tape stuck to the grey carpet, and she could see the group of abandoned boxes against the kitchen cabinets. Bella couldn't decide what she wanted unpacked first—she had started with her clothing, but had quickly grown bored. She had moved on to the kitchen, grabbing up the dishes she had scrounged up, but that had quickly been replaced by the box of books. She had been saving those for last—she was weird enough to think that unpacking books was a treat—but with no one to check her, she had been unable to resist.
Sitting back against the unopened boxes, however, Bella was beginning to wish she'd done some grocery shopping that day. As if in answer to the thought of food her stomach snarled and she pressed her palm against it waiting with a grimace until it fell silent.
She supposed she would have to wait until the next day to venture out in search of victuals. She knew there was a 24-hour supermarket a some blocks away, but there was some deep and primal part of her that still feared the city after dark.
Bella slept fitfully that night, tossing and turning on her new bed and fresh sheets. The pangs of hunger in her stomach—nowhere near the worst she'd ever felt—were coupled with the uncomfortable, intrusive feeling that always accompanies a strange sleeping place. Her new apartment was warm and safe from the rain outside, and if she squinted through the dingy, rattling window, she could see palm trees on a faraway boulevard. The smell, while different to her, was not a bad one, but the longer she breathed it in, the more she yearned for the familiar smell of her room at Invictus. That room had smelled like lemons and pine.
Bella knew it would take some time to adjust and she was sure she'd be happy once she did. But as the clock struck 3 while she tossed and turned in a fitful cycle of napping and waking, it was all she could do not to crawl out of her bed and walk the hour or so it would take her to return to Invictus.
But Bella knew that if she did that, Rose would be disappointed and her brother would worry.
And when Emmett worried, he called.
A lot.
The rain on the window outside tapped a steady rhythm into the dark, drowning out the strange creaking and cracking of the old building. Bella had learned, as she was trying to fall asleep, that when her upstairs neighbour ran the tap or flushed the toilet, the pipe in the wall of her bathroom would rattle. When the old lady next door walked on a certain part of the floor, Bella heard her own floorboards creak. It had taken her three agonizing, frantic excursions into the darkened living room to realize that there was no intruder, and she had only managed to fall into a restless sleep once she had given in to her childish fear of the dark and left the living room lamp on.
Bella hoped the cost wouldn't reflect too harshly on her electricity bill the next month.
That was also the first morning that Bella, growing used to the lengthening spring days, was not appreciative of the bright, hot sun rising over the horizon. On an average day, Bella admired the way the sun always seemed to glow, even under a cover of clouds when the world seemed dim and listless. Having never left Washington until a few months ago, Bella felt like a strange solar tourist every time she woke to the bright, fresh dawn of a new day. Each morning she was amazed by the array of colours, as if the sun was shining through a great celestial prism. At Invictus, she had almost always risen in time to see the black brightening to blue, then to purple and pink, and finally, to a bright orange halo around a blinding white orb. Once the orange dissipated, Bella was almost always ready for her day, eager to watch as the sun dipped back down again, the curtain of colour falling over the sky as gently and beautifully as it had when it had risen.
That morning, however, with itchy eyes and stiff limbs, Bella pressed her face into the fluffy pillow and groaned, squeezing her eyes shut against the bright, eastern light streaming in through the glass.
Perhaps tonight, she thought, she would sleep on the futon.
She had no shift at the café to prepare for, nor was she expected anywhere else for the remainder of the week. Alice had been all too excited when Bella had told her about the move, and Alice, in her kind, thoughtful way, had given Bella a long weekend to get herself settled. Bella was not used to being away from the café on Fridays, especially now that things were getting so busy, but Bella knew that so long as Alice was there, there was no way she could sneak down for a few hours of work.
"You need balance, Bella," Alice had said, her voice a gentle admonishment when Bella had balked at the idea of time off. "You spend half your life in here."
"I want to work," protested Bella. "I mean, I'm the newest one here…"
"Oh pfft…" Alice brushed her off. "You have good reason. You're not even asking me for the time, it's being given to you. Don't worry about anything here. We've got it covered. And we can balance your checks, so it won't affect your wages all that much…"
Behind the bar, Tyler was snickering. For some reason, he loved watching Alice and Bella's banter.
"Quiet you," said Alice, her voice stern but her face smiling. "Keep it up and I'll put you on the register while she's gone. I miss playing barista, and I know how you just love cash…"
Tyler bit his lip and turned back to the sideboard, focusing his attention on the French press.
"That's what I thought," laughed Alice smugly. "And as for you…" she turned back to Bella. "You come in if you have a minute and let me know how it's all going. Your employee discount still works, even if you're not on the clock."
"Discount," snorted Bella, shaking her head. Alice, having so few employees, considered free breakfast bagels and coffee a "discount". Bella considered it borderline theft.
"Have a good move," she said. "Now get out of here before you start wiping my counters. Go on!"
Bella, shaking her head, regretfully handed over the rag she was using on the tables and slumped out of the room, leaving Alice laughing in her wake.
Bella wondered, as she slipped her feet into a pair of socks, if Alice would ever really understand her desire to work. She supposed Alice thought her enthusiasm was a farce—she certainly acted surprised enough every time Bella volunteered to work extra shifts, or take on unpleasant tasks. Just last week, she had been trying to cajole Jasper into cleaning the washrooms while she worked in the office, ("Just this once!" she had said) and she had stared at Bella like she had two heads when she'd volunteered.
"That's not your job," Alice had said, scandalized. "You're not here to scrub toilets."
"I really don't mind."
"Of course you do," said Alice, her lip curled. "No, that's one of our jobs…"
"Really," said Bella, handing Alice the keys to the register. "I don't mind."
And she didn't. Bella could never say she liked cleaning the men's room, but the register was quiet and she didn't feel right standing around doing nothing.
"Bella…" said Alice, sighing when Bella dodged her outstretched hand.
"Where do you keep the mops?"
The yawn that escaped her when she groggily dragged herself out of bed was one of those inescapable, squeaky ones that made her eyes stream. Rubbing her eyes, she made her way to the bathroom to wash her face with cool water before she brushed her teeth, her fingers clumsy and stiff. The apartment was already getting hot so Bella chose her clothing accordingly. She was glad her home was on the third floor. She had a kitchen to unpack and groceries to pick up, but she would be able to crack some windows while she was gone.
By the time the kitchen was all unpacked and her cabinets ready for food, the clock on the old stove was flashing 9:00. Knowing that it was safe enough to venture outside, Bella stuffed her feet into her old, worn-out Chucks and grabbed her keys and purse. She smiled when she slid her key into the brand-new doorknob and felt the lock click when she turned it, slipping the key into the back pocket of her jeans.
Grocery shopping was a different beast altogether, seeing as there was nothing whatsoever in the house for her to start with. As she pushed the cart around the store, she lamented the stock of staple items she'd always had on hand in Seattle—she couldn't even imagine what this lot would cost her. Everything from milk to bread to rice seemed to be more expensive here than she was used to, and the more she piled in, the more she knew she'd have to prune her already sparse list.
As she slid her bank card into the machine at the checkout, Bella knew she would have a fun time trying to get it all home. Using her watch, Bella had timed her walk to the store—a route which took her down side streets and alleys (she wanted to avoid main streets as much as possible). It had taken her thirty minutes to walk, which was not a bad time at all, but with her arms full of heavy grocery bags, Bella knew it would take her much longer to walk back.
"Have a good day!" chirped the girl at the register. Bella offered her a smile, taking hold of the sturdy canvas handles of her new bags, and heaved them one by one onto her shoulders, arms, and wrists, taking the last—and heaviest—by both hands. By the time she made it to the automatic doors of the supermarket, her arms were already aching and numb, and it was with a wince and a determined glare at the hot, rippling asphalt that she began to walk.
She could hear the milk sloshing against the plastic jug, and she could feel the corner of a box—either the crackers or the pasta—digging in to her thigh. Each time she had to stop and readjust herself she felt her arms protest the redistribution of weight. She was sure she would have some spectacular bruises by the next morning, and if she wasn't careful, Alice would be sure to question her about it. Alice had told her, in no uncertain terms, that if she needed to avail herself of Jasper's truck again that she was more than welcome, but Bella could not bring herself to impose on them like that. Jasper and Alice lived nearly an hour away, and Bella would not make either one of them drive out to her for such a simple thing as groceries. Besides, she was managing just fine…
Bella was only glad that she had managed to cross the intersection and was off the sidewalk when the handle on her brand new canvas bag tore away from the whole, sending her canned goods rolling across the ground.
"Goddamn it," she growled, watching with dismay as cans rolled in every direction. Her pasta sauce stopped when it hit the wall of the bank, and the few cans of corn she had found in the clearance aisle hit the empty dumpster with a loud clang.
Setting her bags down, she stormed over and began collecting cans, thrusting them one by one into the other bags, praying to God that they wouldn't tear when she tried to pick them back up.
She didn't notice the truck pulling up behind her until a familiar deep voice rang out.
"Hey!"
Bella, not expecting to hear anyone in the deserted alleyway, felt her heart leap into her throat as she wheeled around, face flushed. It took her only a moment to recognize the face—not the one she had been dreading—and she forced herself to calm down.
She was safe.
"Hey," she said, shuffling her bag of cans and milk awkwardly from hand to hand. He was wearing his sunglasses, like he always did in public, and he was dressed in a simple t-shirt, but even that would not keep his rabid fans away if they discovered him here. When Emmett saw what she was doing, he rushed forward to help, and Bella bit her lip as he scooped up the remaining cans of corn from their place by the trash.
"I've got…" began Emmett, but he fell silent when Bella spoke at the same time.
"How did you…" said Bella, but when she saw what stood behind him, her mouth flew open. "Oh!"
"Yeah," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I got it fixed."
Behind him, running as quietly and easily as it must have done on its first day on the road, was her old, red Chevy truck. Bella could not help the smile that spread across her face as she put her bags down in the dirt, taking a few steps forward.
"I…" began Bella, clearing her throat. Emmett, his eyes wide, stared as she approached. Bella wondered if he'd reach out to hug her—it seemed like something he'd do—but she was surprised when he simply reached out a hand.
"Yeah," he said. "I figured it would be a nice housewarming gift."
"Housewarming?" asked Bella, feeling stupid. She had been so sure her truck was done for…
"Yeah, housewarming," said Emmett. "You know, when someone gets a new place and you get them something?"
"I know what housewarming is," laughed Bella, shaking her head. For a moment, she forgot she was angry with him.
Emmett certainly did not want to remind her.
"Yeah, so…"
He held out a key ring to her. Bella saw the familiar old metal key, glinting in the light, but she also noticed a new remote starter.
"Thanks," she said, speaking softly as she examined it. "You didn't have to."
"I wanted to," said Emmett. "I figured you'd like it back."
"I do," she said, unable to pretend otherwise. It went against her nature to accept gifts—especially a gift of this magnitude, and especially from her brother—but she could not help it.
"Well, it's yours now."
"Thanks."
"No problem."
Emmett stared down at her as Bella investigated the keys, but even he could see that it was a ploy. Bella had never been good at small talk, and neither she nor Emmett knew quite what to say.
"So," began Emmett, clearing his throat. "Your license is in the glove compartment. It was in the wallet on the seat when I picked it up."
"Right."
"Also…" he sounded hesitant. Bella glanced up, glad to see that he was now staring at the dark gravel.
"Would you mind driving me back up to my place?" he asked. "I didn't expect to see you on the street, and I was going to call a cab from your new place, but…"
"Sure," said Bella. "Of course. Yeah…"
"Great."
"No problem."
The alley was silent.
"Are you seriously walking with all this?" asked Emmett quietly, gesturing around to the bags strewn on the ground.
"I was," said Bella, "until that bag broke."
"Damn bag." Emmett's feeble joke made her smile.
"Yeah. Damn bag."
"Well, you've got wheels now," he said, jerking his chin in the direction of the truck. "It's got a full tank, the insurance is up to date, and my mechanic says it's running like a dream. He fixed the clutch."
Bella smiled.
"Good," she said. That had been one of the hardest things to adjust to when she'd first started driving it back in high school. She remembered having to take side streets and back roads wherever she went, since it had taken her forever to learn how to restart it when it inevitably stalled after long bouts of driving.
Only after she had stalled on the exit of the freeway with Charlie in the passenger's seat had her father finally given in and taken it to a mechanic, who had fixed the stalling issue but not the clutch.
"Yeah." Emmett cleared his throat. Bella didn't have a chance to speak before he snatched up the majority of her bags in one scoop and began walking towards the truck. When he opened the door to the back seat she scrambled after him with the bread and eggs, placing them carefully on the seat where she hoped they would not get broken. After he slammed the door (the door still required some forceful handling), he slid into the passenger's seat and produced a black ball cap from the dash, pulling it low over his face.
Bella supposed he didn't want to be recognized.
"How did you know I was walking there?" she asked, testing the remote starter. The truck rumbled to life at the touch of a button, and Bella grinned.
"I didn't," admitted Emmett. "I work this afternoon, so I knew I would have to bring the truck by this morning if you were going to get it today. It only came out of the shop last night."
"Right," said Bella, pulling onto the road.
"I called Rosalie and got your address again, and she told me how to get to your place. I went up and knocked, but you didn't answer."
"I had no food," she explained, gesturing to the bags.
"So I figured I'd drive around for a bit and try again in a little while. It's a bit of a drive to my place, and I didn't want to go all the way back without dropping it off…"
"So you were just driving by and saw me?"
"Yep," said Emmett. "I try to keep to side streets—if I went driving around in the middle of the main drag with that, every baseball cap in the world couldn't hide me."
Bella grinned.
"Well, thanks," she said. "You came at a wonderful time."
Emmett chuckled.
"You know there are things called taxis, right?" he teased, and Bella felt her cheeks flush.
"Taxis cost money," she said, "which I am trying not to spend."
Bella had intended her words to be joking, but when Emmett's face fell she could almost feel the awkwardness.
"Do you need money?" he asked, refusing to meet her gaze when her eyes snapped over. The last time he had offered—over the phone at Invictus—Bella had all but blown up in a fit of temper and she hadn't taken his calls for three days afterwards. She knew she had hurt him, but the thought of taking charity from Emmett—pity money, she was sure—had sent her reeling.
"No," she said quickly. She wished he would look up. "Thanks though."
"Anytime. I mean it."
"I know you do."
"Yeah."
He picked at his fingernails.
"I…" she began, turning carefully into the parking lot of her building. Emmett, seeming relieved that she had not blown up, chanced a glance at her and found her anxious and fidgety.
"I'msorryforbeingabrat." The words came out in a rush, and Emmett, snorting with laughter, shook his head.
"You don't need to be sorry," he said for the umpteenth time. "I've said it before, and I'll say it again—I'll be around whenever you decide to forgive me."
Bella sighed.
"You wanna come in?" she asked quietly, opening the door and snatching a few of the bags from the back. Emmett slid out after her, taking the rest, as he nodded his assent.
"Sure."
"I'm on the third floor," she said, forgetting that he already knew. "305."
"Rose told me."
"Right."
Bella let him go first—he was a much faster walker—and trailed up after him. He waited patiently for her to unlock her door, frowning when she managed to open it.
"Do you have a deadbolt?" he asked, examining the doorknob. Bella shook her head.
"No," she said. "But the knob locks."
"Yeah…" said Emmett, and Bella knew he was biting his tongue. In truth, Bella had felt her own misgivings about the flimsy door lock, but the manager had assured her that the building was safe, and Jasper's search of the address had turned up nothing shady…
"It works for me," she shrugged, reaching around him to open the empty fridge. She gestured to the table, and he sat.
"You have a phone?" he asked, looking around. "Or a computer?"
"No," said Bella. She busied herself with the milk.
"You should have one," he said, and while Bella felt the beginnings of indignation, she knew he wasn't wrong.
"It's on my list," she said. "I had to pay first and last for this place, and that drained me for a bit. Next pay is going towards rent again, but after that I should be able to get myself some kind of phone. Cheap ones aren't that expensive…"
"I could put you on my plan," said Emmett quickly, looking eager. "I can have up to five numbers on it, and I've only got three…"
"Three?" asked Bella, pointedly ignoring his offer. She did not have time to sort through the moral quandary of accepting his charity. "For who?"
Bella, having kept up with the tabloids, knew that Emmett had broken up with his girlfriend, Heidi, and she had heard nothing more than that. Had her brother been holding out on her?
"My personal phone," he said, pulling a shiny black iPhone out of his jeans. "One phone that I keep at the house for emergencies, and my work phone."
"What kind of emergencies?" asked Bella, stuffing pasta and rice into her cabinet. While it had felt like a lot to carry home, the more she put in her cabinets the more she realized how sparse her pantry really was. When Emmett tried to glance inside, she quickly closed the door.
"If they can't reach me on my personal line," shrugged Emmett. "Leah knows to answer it if I'm not home."
"Leah?"
"My housekeeper," grunted Emmett, looking embarrassed. "She comes a few times a week to make sure my place doesn't fall apart."
Bella snorted. She hadn't known her brother kept a maid, but from what she remembered as a little girl, she wasn't surprised.
"Well, I hope you pay her well," she snarked, piling the last of the cans onto a shelf. Emmett smiled.
"Well enough," he admitted. In truth, he paid Leah better than of any of his other household employees. The landscapers came and went before he could even get a chance to learn their names—the agency he used seemed to have quite the turnover rate. The same went for the kids who cleaned his pool—almost exclusively lanky teenage boys with acne and Bieber hair who kissed his ass and called him "Sir" whenever he poked in to see how they were doing. But Leah… she'd been the first person he'd ever hired, and she'd been coming by to clean that house for nearly ten years. Without her, Emmett was sure it would have been condemned.
Though she was only his paid worker, Emmett had grown rather fond of Leah and all her eccentricities.
"You'd like her, I think," said Emmett, resting his chin on his hand. "She keeps me in line."
Bella smiled.
"And she sorts my laundry," he added thoughtfully, making Bella snicker. "Remember when you went through the sorting laundry phase?"
"Yes," laughed Bella. It had been one of her stranger obsessions as a child—in second grade, the students had been divided into groups and were assigned a project on household chores. Bella's group had gotten "laundry". She remembered the time she had taken pasting paper pictures of washing machines, clothespins, dryers, and soap on bright orange Bristol board, and how her "research" (which consisted of interviewing her father and Mrs. Weber) had led to her discovery that the proper way to launder clothing involved sorting.
For a full month, Bella had harassed and nagged her poor henpecked father until he sorted the laundry to her liking. She hadn't known until years later that Charlie, in an effort to save time and energy, had never truly washed any of the piles separately once Bella had found her way back upstairs.
She was surprised Emmett remembered.
"Is there laundry in this place?" asked Emmett, glancing around. Bella shook her head.
"No," she said. "Do you want a tour?"
"Sure," he grinned.
So Bella, with a burning mix of pride and embarrassment, showed her brother all four rooms of her little apartment. If he was shocked or repulsed by the smallness of it, or the meanness of her furniture and belongings, he didn't comment, and offered an admiring "nice" when she showed him the futon.
"And that's it," she shrugged, standing in the middle of the living room. "The laundromat is halfway between here and the supermarket. I passed it on my way in."
"If you ever want free laundry, you know where I live," he said, and though he grinned as he said it, Bella sensed he was serious.
"Maybe," she laughed. "It's a bit of a drive."
"Yeah."
"Speaking of drives," said Bella. "Do you still want a ride home?"
"If you're willing," he said. "I can catch a cab if you're busy unpacking."
"No," she yawned. "I'll drive."
"Tired?"
"A bit." She rubbed her eyes.
"It'll get easier," said Emmett, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "It's always weird, sleeping in a new place."
Bella grimaced.
"Come on," he said. His hand was still on her shoulder. "If we hurry we can avoid lunch hour traffic."
The first half of the drive to Emmett's house was silent and comfortable, as both seemed pleasantly accustomed to the quiet. Bella found that driving this new version of her truck was far easier than driving the old one, and she appreciated how smooth it felt on the road. She didn't dare ask about everything Emmett had fixed, as she knew she would be upset if she found out, but she vowed to find a way to thank him for his thoughtfulness.
How did you thank a man who already had everything in the world he could want?
Not to mention she was on a tight budget.
"Turn here," said Emmett gently, pointing left as Bella approached a strange intersection. The closer she got to her brother's house the more fancy the neighbourhoods seemed to be, and Bella could only be glad that her truck was a classic—it had some chance of fitting in on these streets filled with swanky Ferraris and Porches. When soft green lawns began to whiz by and she could see a cluster of green, leafy trees, Bella knew that she had found her brother's house.
"The code for the gate is 2-5-4-6-2," said Emmett. Bella had stopped beside the keypad, glancing at her brother for direction. She reached her hand through the window and pressed the code, relieved when the red sensor light turned green, and the gate swung open.
"Remember that number in case you ever need to get inside," said Emmett, turning to face her once the truck rolled to a stop outside his front door. Bella could only ogle—this was the first time she was really seeing his house.
"I will," she said, repeating the number in her mind. She knew she would never remember it… she would have to write it down someplace.
"I'll have a key made for you, too," he said, distracted as he stepped down from the truck. "I should have done it ages ago…"
"Oh, I don't…" began Bella quickly, shaking her head, but Emmett wouldn't hear it.
"Of course you do," he said. "If something ever happens—and I'm not saying that it will…" He spoke quickly at the look of worry on her face.
"But if something did," he continued, "I want you to know you can come here. You're always welcome here, no matter what."
"Thanks Emmett," she said. She frowned at the way his face lit up at her words, unsure what exactly she had said to garner such a reaction.
"What?" she squeaked.
"You said my name," he said gently. "I don't think in the whole time you've been here you've said my name."
"Sure I have…" she protested, but fell short when she began to think. She'd said his name so often in her own head, or out loud to Rosalie, but every time she saw him it was only a simple "Hello", or "Hey you". Bella bit her lip.
"Sorry."
"Nah," he said quickly, coming round to her side of the vehicle. He rested his arms in the open window. "Don't be sorry. Like I said."
"Like you said," repeated Bella.
Emmett paused.
"Bell?"
"Yeah?"
"Can I give you a hug?" he asked. The hesitation, the worry in his voice made her eyes and nose burn with tears. Don't be stupid, she told herself. Don't you go crying now…
And to her surprise, she didn't.
"Yeah."
She slipped her seatbelt off and opened her door, prepared to step out and give him a proper embrace. But Emmett, looking as if he had been waiting too long for the pleasure, reached out and snatched her up before she could get her feet on the ground. She didn't stiffen, as she expected she would, and when her arms found their way around him, she found the safety and warmth he exuded to be comforting.
All of a sudden, she remembered exactly why she had thrown herself on him so frantically that first night. She was apt to forget when he wasn't around, but Emmett was, and had always been, safe.
"I love you, Bella," he said. "I know you're still angry and I know you're confused, but I love you."
"I love you too," she said, and the words came easily to her. "I'm sorry for being a brat. I do love you, even if..."
And for the first time in a long while, those words did not make her feel like a fraud.
She should have known her little happy bubble wouldn't last forever. Bella had never considered herself an optimist—she was too realistic for that—but the way things seemed to be going for her, she was well on her way to becoming a cynic.
Her happy first week in her apartment had swept by in a flurry of activity, both domestic and social. She had spent time with Rosalie, lounging on her new futon with a bottle of wine that Rose had brought with her. Bella had no wine glasses so the two women had poured it into dollar store tumblers, and both of them had had a good laugh over the whole thing. Bella had no television to offer her guest—no movies to keep them occupied or trashy reality shows to drunk-watch. But her self-conscious embarrassment (what kind of hostess was she?) had been quashed almost as soon as it had formed by the appearance of Alice and Jasper with a little black box. Alice had even tied a ribbon around it and attached a fancy little tag with Bella's name scrawled in artsy calligraphy.
Having been so socially isolated at home with her father, Bella had never heard of the game Alice had bought for her, but halfway through her glass of wine and with Jasper's raucous laughter in her ears, Bella had begun to think that Cards Against Humanity was the rudest, funniest game she had ever played.
Even a week after its appearance in her house, it still held the place of honour on the end-table by the futon.
Now, as Bella sat hunched on Alice's black leather sofa in the office, it was all she could do to keep her cool. She could hear Alice's voice growing louder from the counter outside, could hear Jasper arguing over a number of loud and obnoxious voices, and Bella wondered if this would be the last straw in her employment here.
"Bella can you get that for me?" asked Alice. Bella grinned at her boss—Alice was one of the tiniest people Bella had ever seen, and even though she was on the top step of the stool she was using, her arms were still a few inches too short to reach the cappuccino box on the highest shelf.
"Sure thing, Alice," she said. "Look out."
"Don't laugh at me!" she said, tapping Bella on the shoulder as she climbed up. Bella had no problem reaching the box, pulling it down with a gloating smile.
"I'm not short," she said, snatching the box away. "Jasper just says I'm fun-sized."
Bella laughed as Jasper tipped an imaginary hat at the two of them from behind the counter, where a line-up of lunchtime patrons was starting to form. Bella shuddered when Alice, gave her husband a lewd wink and moved a little too slowly when she bent over to put the box under the counter. Jasper, not at all oblivious, laughed and shook his head, giving Bella a cheeky grin.
"You two are gross," she complained, bumping Jasper away from the register with her hip. Jasper, of course, knew how to work the register, but as his day job took place in his police cruiser, and not in the café, he was slower than both of the girls.
"Consider me gone," he said, kissing his wife on the cheek when Bella had dismissed him. "Missy B over there's got everything under control."
"Oh I know," said Alice. "We only let you help so you'll feel useful." Jasper laughed.
"Speaking of being useful," he said, kissing Alice on the nose. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to step out."
"You haven't done the bathrooms yet!" said Alice. "You lost the bet, you know…"
"I know," said Jasper, with a valiant attempt to look sorry. "I really do, but duty calls."
"What duty?" asked Alice, a frown crossing her face. "Don't tell me that he's sick again…"
"He's sick again," said Jasper, looking slightly anxious.
"He's not sick," grumbled Alice, opening a bag of coffee with her paring knife. "He's just lazy…"
"Well, either way, the Chief asked me to cover and I can't very well say no…"
"You can sometimes," said Alice, but her voice had grown soft again. Bella felt guilty for eavesdropping—she was good enough at her job that she could listen and work—but she couldn't help the smile.
Her father had been the same way.
"Be safe," said Alice. "And take a coffee before you leave."
"No time darlin'," said Jasper. "I'm headed out in five."
"Well, be safe then," she reiterated. "Come home in one piece."
"I always do."
"You've got things here, Bella?" asked Alice, turning around once Jasper had disappeared into the back. "I'm going to make him a sandwich for his shift, if you've got it handled…"
"Definitely," said Bella, adding creamer to the coffee she was making. "Go on ahead."
"Wonderful." She squeezed Bella's hand as she walked by. "You're a lifesaver."
Bella blushed.
"What can I get you, sir?" she asked, speaking to the next customer in line. Bella had come to learn that much of coffee-shop work involved memorization. There were customers that she saw regularly each day, whose orders and names she had memorized. She knew that Celia from the bookshop across the way drank raspberry tea with two sugars, and that if Bella would let her, she would talk her ear off for a good half hour. She knew that John from one of the offices up the street took two creamers in his coffee, but if his wife was with him, he switched to milk. She knew that Rob took an ungodly amount of sugar, and that Nancy always ordered an extra-large black dark roast. She knew how to make Janet's sandwich, and knew that Russ would complain if his bagel hadn't been toasted just right…
But this man, Bella noted, was a stranger to her. She was sure she had never seen him before, and while that was not unusual (Alice's café brought in all kinds of new customers all the time), the way he was staring at her was.
"Yes, hello," he said. The hairs on Bella's neck stood up.
"Can I get you something to drink? We have a fresh pot of dark-roast…"
"I'm not interested in coffee." He had eyes like a frog—large and pouchy, but somehow bulging. His tie was crooked.
"I'm sorry?" she said, glancing around for Tyler. He was there, at the other end of the shop, but he paid her no mind as he rushed to and fro, making all kinds of specialty drinks for the customers waiting at the end of the counter.
"My name is Alec," he said. "I'm from the National Enquirer."
Bella stared.
"Oh come now, Miss Swan," he said, loudly enough for the women behind him to hear. "Don't pretend like we don't know who you are."
Bella felt a cold wash of fear flood through her. Had James sent this man? Did he know where to find her? Was he close by, just waiting to strike when she wasn't looking…?
"I…"
"You," said the man in an obnoxiously loud voice, "are Emmett Swan's sister, are you not? The one who was missing? Your face was allover the news…"
Bella could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she stared at this man, gaping like a fish, while he leered down at her.
"Do you mind if I ask you some questions?" he asked. "Your brother missed the funeral. Where was he? Is it true your father used to hit him?"
"No!" said Bella, scrambling to collect her thoughts. The idea of this man—this stranger!—coming in and accusing her father of… of such…
"So Emmett simply walked out?" asked the man, his pen flying. Bella could hear the other patrons whispering now. She glanced around, hoping for anyone to come and help her out, but all she saw was a teenage girl, no doubt a fan of her brother's, leaning over the pastry display to stare.
"Emmett!" the girl hissed to her friend. "He said Emmett! And he's right! Look at her… she was on the cover of In Touch!"
"Miss Alice?" Tyler's voice was the one that rang out, and Bella was glad to see him abandoning his post to come to her side. "Sir? Can we get you something to drink?"
"No, no," said the man, Alec, with a leering smile. "I just want to have a little chat with Missy here about her brother, and then I'll be…"
"Excuse me, what's all this?" Alice might be a tiny person, but she looked like an angry tigress as she stared down the unwanted guest.
"Alec Smithson," said the man, holding out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. Might I have a moment with your worker here?"
"Alice, I…"
"Shush Bella," said Alice, holding out a hand for silence. "Go in the back."
"Alice…"
"Now, Bella," she said, and Bella felt her face flame. This was it. She would lose her job. She would lose her apartment. She would be homeless again. James would…
It was only once she had made it to the couch and saw herself in the mirror behind the desk that she saw how white her face had gone, or how badly her hands were shaking…
"Bella?" Alice's voice was soft and gentle as she approached, and Bella was still shaking. Alice looked worried and when she sat next to Bella, her arms were outstretched as if she would pull her in for a hug.
Bella did not respond, so Alice settled for resting a hand on her shoulder.
"Jasper is getting him to leave," she said gently. "I'm sorry he accosted you."
Bella started.
"I didn't mean for him to cause a scene," she said. She could still hear the man, even as Jasper escorted him out, hollering all kinds of question for her.
"Don't worry about it," said Alice. "It was only a matter of time, really…"
"I didn't think they'd know me," said Bella. This much, at least, was true.
"He wasn't wrong when he said your face was everywhere. I'm not surprised no one else has figured it out yet."
Bella let out a shaky sigh.
"Well," said Alice quietly, tapping her fingernails on the desk. "We're going to have to figure something out for you while this settles down."
Bella braced herself for the incoming flood.
"I guess we've got no choice," said Alice, her brow furrowed.
"I understand," said Bella. Do not cry. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood.
"I'll train you on the books," said Alice gently, pulling Bella close when she sensed the impeding tears. "I know it's not what you were hired for, but…"
Bella's head snapped up.
"You're not firing me?"
"Firing you?" asked Alice, startled. "God no. Why would I fire you?"
"Well…" spluttered Bella. "I…"
"Listen," said Alice. "That asshole isn't your fault. You didn't ask him here. He accosted you, not the other way around. No way am I firing you for something you didn't even do."
"But…"
"But what?" asked Alice. "Goodness, Bella, I know you're scared I'm going to let you go, but honestly. You're a good worker."
"I'm average," protested Bella, earning her a little laugh.
"No, you're awesome," said Alice. "You go above and beyond, you're a quick learner, you're eager and excited to come in every day…"
Bella shook her head.
"I wish you wouldn't worry so much," sighed Alice. "Your job is safe, if nothing else…"
Bella breathed a sigh of relief.
"I'll start your training tomorrow. Jasper is off, and he can take over the register."
"I hate to cause trouble," said Bella. "You don't need to make accommodations…"
"The crowds are still flocking," said Alice gently. "It's good for business, so I'm not complaining about the number of them, but they're all looking for you. God knows what they want, but I'm not about to let you find out."
"Thanks, Alice," said Bella, releasing a shaky sigh. "For everything."
"I'll always help, when I can," said Alice. "And besides. Maybe learning the ins and outs of business will be helpful to you someday."
"Yeah, maybe," laughed Bella. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
"Go home for the rest of the day," said Alice gently. "We'll pay you for the full day, but there's not much else you can do for now. I can't very well throw you to the wolves—they'd eat you alive. Your truck is out back, right?"
"Yeah."
"Go, then," said Alice, squeezing Bella's hand. "Maybe go to Rosalie's. She's missed you."
"Yeah, I will," said Bella, knowing very well that there was no way she could go and sit alone in her apartment just now. "Thanks Alice."
"Don't worry about it. See you tomorrow."
"Bye."
When Bella slipped out the back door, her hair down from its ponytail and her apron bunched in her fist, she managed to slip in to her truck without anyone noticing her. When she pulled out of the back alley and onto the main road, she could only groan when she saw the masses of people pressing their way inside.
Bella was starting to wonder if she was more trouble than she was worth.
Driving took a long time, as lunch-hour traffic always caused some delays. Bella's lips were chapped and she could taste the salt of tears when she licked them, but she did not dare pull over to find a tissue. She had been noticed—and not just recognized, but accosted. She knew all of those people weren't trying to hurt her—they didn't want to make her uncomfortable or upset. She knew Emmett was the one they really wanted—Bella had yet to go out in public with him, but she was sure that when she did, she would find the crowds much worse than this. But still… Bella had not been prepared, nor had she been expecting her sudden and violent shove into the spotlight.
When she reached Rosalie's townhouse, all white and prim and orderly, it was all she could do to pull her truck in behind the red Beemer and step outside. Bella half suspected that some deranged and overeager person would spring up from the Rose's bed of petunias, or perhaps dangle from the large coconut tree on the curb by the road.
She knocked frantically, ringing the doorbell for good measure, unable to stop the springing tears when no one answered.
"Come on…" said Bella, glancing anxiously from side to side, as if Rosalie's neighbours would suddenly start springing up from the hedges to stare, and pry, and launch questions at her…
"Hang on. There's someone at my door." Bella heard Rose's muffled voice behind the wood of the door and she let out a sigh of relief, wiping her face on her black work shirt as the sound of the deadbolt made her jump.
Rose looked annoyed when she first opened the door, but when she laid eyes on Bella, all red-eyed and skittish, her annoyance melded into worry.
"What happened?" she demanded, taking Bella by the arm and pulling her inside. As if she suspected some assailant had followed her, Rose looked suspiciously up and down her sleepy street before she closed the door with a click, and slid the lock into place.
"People know who I am," she said pitifully, biting her lip as she fought against her anxiety. "They came into the shop, and Alice told me I should come here…"
"Hey, yeah," said Rose, her phone back up against her ear. "Listen, I've got to go."
The voice on the other end, a man's by the sound of things, replied in kind.
"Yeah. No." Rose shook her head. "She's fine. I think."
Bella glanced up.
"I'll talk to you later. Yeah. Friday."
Rose hung up on her caller, tossing the cell phone on the little bench by the doorway. She drew Bella in for a hug and Bella kicked off her shoes, mindful of the tidy floors.
"Come in and tell me what happened," said Rose. "I've got the kettle on."
Bella didn't notice the way Rose's eyes flitted to the cell phone, the screen listing all her recent calls, or how her brother's was the only name on the list.
A/N: An extra long chapter. I hope you like it... we're making slow and steady progress.
For those of you worried that things have slowed down for good, never fear. I've got my outline all planned out, and there is plenty of excitement yet to come.
Reviews have been scarce lately. Let me know what you think!