on hand down here to solve problems, put out fires and generally multitask. Not something she’d excelled at in her former life. Juggling a million details was a skill she’d learned right here, at Demi’s restaurant.
She’d put all of that training to the test this weekend. Demi deserved a delicious, perfectly catered feast after all the hell she’d been through. Besides, this was the last thing Elisa would be able to do for her friend, so it had to shine.
That was a sad and unproductive thought, so Elisa squashed it, focusing on sketching out the new, less-X-rated mushroom composition. Demi would be okay now that she had her adoring Eric to defend her from danger. Anton Trask, Eric’s equally tough brother, would do no less for Fi, as soon as he recuperated. Fi and Demi would protect their men just as fiercely. It was a beautiful thing to see. All that passion and heroism and trust and love on display. Wow.
She wasn’t exactly jealous. More like wistful. A little cynical, maybe, but she truly did hope it would turn out to be real and lasting for Demi and Fi. She had her fingers crossed for them. For her own part, she could never risk it again. Love, marriage, none of it. No way.
After all, Gil had seemed to adore her, too. Like crazy. At first.
“…to put in the freezer at the house, so it won’t go to waste while the place is closed. She told you about that, right? Um…hello? Elisa? Earth to Elisa?”
Elisa dragged her attention to Fiona. “Huh? Sorry.”
“The leftovers,” Fiona repeated gently. “Demi said to go ahead and pick the food up today. I hate to bug you guys while you’re so busy, but Anton’s agitating for lunch, so I thought now would be as good a time as any to pick up that food.”
“Ah. Um, yes,” she mumbled. “Excuse me. I zoned out. Let’s see, I’ve got squash soup and black bean soup in the fridge, barbecued pulled pork, prime rib, honey ham, eggplant parmesan, moussaka, and a whole bunch of lasagna.”
“Sounds great,” Fiona said. “All of it. Load me up. I’ll take whatever you give me. None of it will go to waste the way Anton eats. He’s the big foodie. I’m not much of a cook myself, but I can heat up leftovers like a pro.”
“Hold on just a sec,” Elisa said. “I’ll go fill up a box for you.”
Elisa went back to the storeroom freezer, grabbed a big box and started filling it with the leftover food that Demi had set aside for Anton and Fi. She packed the heavy, frozen aluminum containers into the box like bricks.
Thinking about Gil gave her a cold, heavy ache in her belly. That constant, grating fear that she was making a terrible mistake, no matter what she did, or didn’t do. She just couldn’t shake that feeling, night or day. She went to sleep with it, woke up with it. Dreamed with it. It was exhausting. So was pretending to be normal.
Though Nate had certainly seen through the ruse.
She had to let it all go, she lectured herself as she packed in quart-sized plastic containers of soup. Her decision was made. Her friends’ problems had brought too much attention to this place. The local and state police, the Feds, the CDC, all trying to figure out what Kimball was up to, and what the story was with this virus. And then there was the media frenzy. Some of the intensity had faded, but Shaw’s Crossing was still swarming with law enforcement, and an army of virologists.
She’d been here about four months now. Felt like longer. It was time to bounce. Long past time.
Her bus ticket was bought, and zipped into the inside of her coat, along with her fake IDs and her stash of cash, saved over months of wages and tips. She was packed and ready, and her bus left at seven AM the day after tomorrow, the morning after Demi’s wedding. From Tacoma, she would pick a destination. Whatever bus left soonest. Maine, Florida, Louisiana. It didn’t matter, as long as it was far away.
She piled containers in the box, slapping them angrily, one on top of the other. Leaving Shaw’s Crossing made her feel cheated and miserable. She actually felt at home here, more at home than she’d ever felt. They accepted her and all of her quirks. It was clear that Demi suspected that Elisa’s life story didn’t quite add up, but