When he doesn’t reply after a minute or so, I panic about what to say. I’m not ready to end the conversation.
I grab a bag of sweets out of my drawer, and reach for one. The sour tang of Haribo explodes on my tongue.
Charlotte: Are you still okay for Thursday?
I chew my lip as the three dots appear on the right side of the message, and my stomach flutters.
Drew: Can’t wait.
Charlotte: Me either.
Drew: See you then, gorgeous.
Gorgeous.
He called me gorgeous.
I flop back against my pillow, letting out a giggle. From years of advice, I know not to message him back. Hayden would kill me if she found out I did.
Instead, I read over the messages again, unable to keep the smile off my face.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHARLOTTE
Emily: We are on our way.
Charlotte: See you soon.
Emily: You better not be stressing. It’s all going to be okay.
It really isn’t. Marlene hadn’t shown up for work this morning and she isn’t answering her phone. She forgot her work hours once before but she never ignored my phone calls on those days.
I called Rita to come in and fill in for us, but I can’t get rid of the sinking feeling in my stomach that something is wrong.
We had a lot of activity in here yesterday. First a birthday party and then my family showed up, demanding to try my cupcakes. But I had already shared them with some of the guests before they arrived.
They got into it with Marlene when she wouldn’t stay to cover for me so I could go home and bake more.
Maybe they scared her off and that’s why she isn’t here. It wouldn’t be the first member of staff to leave because of them.
I feel awful because thinking back, that was the first time one of them ever demanded me to bake for them. Usually they are giving me reasons not to bother. They never want to trouble me. And the one time they did, I had to work. But I couldn’t just close up to bake them treats, as much as I’d have liked to. I hate that I hurt their feelings by saying no.
They sort of took that out on Marlene as she was leaving to head home. My uncle Max even clung to her ankle like an octopus, begging her not to let an old man starve. The members of the public inside the library started to plead on his behalf and she got so mad she went to kick him. She somehow missed and got the buckle on her boot caught on the desk and it tore off, ruining her favourite boots.
Still, that couldn’t be reason enough not to come into work.
Was it?
She did leave screaming they were all psychos and needed to be committed but I thought she was joking because everyone knew Uncle Max was banned from those places. It was public knowledge.
I click on Marlene’s contact once again. I tap my foot restlessly on the floor as I listen to it ring and ring, just like it has done since I first started calling this morning.
“Hello?”
I jump, pulling the phone back a little to make sure I dialled the right number. “Um, is Marlene there?”
“She’s in the hospital,” the girl replies. “Can you believe that?”
“Oh my God, what on earth for? Is she okay?”
“She was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?”
“Yeah, by a cupcake.”
The blood drains from my face as I stagger backwards. I grip the back of the chair and turn it to face me before my knees threaten to buckle. My arse hits the soft cushion and I grip the phone tighter in my hand.
“Cupcake?” I whisper before bursting into tears.
Did I do this?
Was this my cupcake?
Oh my God, those poor kids ate my cupcakes.
My breath hitches as I fight to stay coherent.
“Hey, don’t cry. But yeah, silly cow said she took a box of cupcakes from the library. Apparently, they were for her stuck-up boss. They were tested early this morning and it was them.”
“Me, I’m her stuck-up boss,” I hiccup, pointing to my chest. “That’s me. Did she say where she got the cupcakes? Did they have a buttercream frosting?”
“Look, lady, I have no clue what cupcakes they were but… Hold on,” I hear rumbling, like the phone speaker is being wiped with a cloth. “It’s your stuck-up boss. Don’t sound stuck up to me, love. She’s crying like a new-born here.”
“What does she want?”
“Wants to know what frosting was on it and where you got them from.”
“Really? I nearly die and that’s all she has to say?”
“That’s not all I have to say,” I call out, hoping they can hear me. I wipe my nose, waiting patiently for her to reply.
“Just answer so I can get back to scrolling through Facebook.”
“I don’t know. I threw the note in the bin after they were delivered.”
More rustling and seconds later, the line clears. “I heard everything.”
“Well shit.”
“I’m really not stuck up,” I tell her.
“Hey, it’s between you two.”
“So, they weren’t my cupcakes?”
“Luv, she said they were delivered. Did you deliver cupcakes?”
My breath hitches. “No. I didn’t have any delivered.”
“Then no, they aren’t your cupcakes, but the fact you’re worried they are… maybe you shouldn’t bake anymore.”
Maybe.
“Can you tell her that I wish her a speedy recovery and that I can’t wait to see her back at work.”
She repeats the message and I hear Marlene yell, “Not unless you tell your family to stay the fuck away from me, the crazy morons.”
I bite my bottom lip, grimacing. “Um, I can hear she’s upset. I’ll let you see to her. Lovely speaking with you. Bye.”
Ending the call, I clutch the phone to my chest. Poisoning. How did this happen? And what note?
Heading out of my office, I make my way over to her desk and reach for the bin. Empty.
Our cleaner, Vicky, had been in yesterday. Which means one thing. They’re in our industrial bin at the side of the building.
Letting out a whine, I grab my bag and head out, bumping into Rita on the way. “Hey. I’m sorry to have to call you in on your day off.”
“It’s fine. But, Charlotte, you really do need to look into hiring someone better. Back in my day, if we acted like that, we were fired on the spot.”
“She’s in the hospital,” I explain before leaning in and whispering, “Poisoning.”
“Oh no. Is she okay?”
I suck in my bottom lip. “I think so.” I forgot to ask and now guilt eats at me. “She seemed okay. Yeah, I think she’s okay. Right?”
Her brows pull together. “I haven’t spoken to her.”
I wave her off. “It’s fine. I do need to go, though. I have to check the bins outside.”
“The bins outside?”
“Notes,” I tell her in all seriousness before heading out the door.
The wind blows my hair around my face when I get outside. I glance up at the dimming sky, groaning. It’s going to rain. Drat.
I rush to the side of the building and stop in front of the bin, lifting the lid. I hold my arm up to my nose, gagging. “I own books and serve coffee,” I groan.