“They did. I’m waiting on Coop to finish up at the office.” I’d rather Regina not pick up on the fact I’m upset. “I love the design of this place. It’s so modern and—”
“Not Whisper Falls?” Regina finishes my thought.
“It’s not what I was expecting.”
“Cooper’s not the only member of the Douglas family to leave Whisper. I attended culinary school up north and spent the summer after graduation working at all these enviable little restaurants. When it came time to open my own place, I decided Whisper Falls needed some culture.”
“Well, it looks great.” My eyes float to the menu dangling above our heads. “Of course I haven’t tried the food.”
Regina laughs. “Prepare to really be impressed.”
I’m not hungry, but I order something anyway. I settle on a salmon BLT paired with garlic potato wedges. Regina said it was a favorite dish, and Maple seconded the opinion. I find a table in the corner, next to a small stage with a barstool and microphone. This seems like the type of place to offer live music on the weekends. To my left, I see a corkboard littered with business cards and flyers. Advertisements for the local florist and dry cleaner and tax preparer. A bright orange poster advertises a website called The Falls Report.
It’s getting close to dinner time and people are starting to pile in, their arrival made known by the ding of a bell. The turnout is decent. There’s a cluster of young adults plugged into their laptops at the table next to mine. A woman in a navy coat sits by the window drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, probably the Gazette. Occasionally she looks at me, offering a stare that says you’re not from around here.
My phone buzzes with a text message. It’s Beth.
Checking in, stranger. I miss you!
I feel guilty. The stress of the move and this past week has prevented me from reaching out as much as I should.
Miss you. How’s the baby?
Beth and Matt are expecting a baby girl. I’m happy for her, even though the timing of the delivery means she won’t be able to attend the wedding. She doesn’t need to make the drive from Atlanta so late in her pregnancy, and I wouldn’t want her to take any risks on my behalf.
Twenty-six weeks and healthy, she replies.
Much love. Promise to call soon.
What I want to say is I’m lonely. That I’m insecure about my role in this family and bothered by what my new neighbors still say about my fiancé. That everywhere I turn in this town, I’m faced with another reminder of the mysterious Celia Gray. But I won’t tell her any of this. Unlike me, everything is going right in Beth’s world. Her career and husband and baby. I don’t want to be a buzzkill.
By the time I’ve finished texting, Regina moseys over, ignoring the lines of people standing by the register. She’s holding two trays of food in her hand. “Thought I’d join you,” she says, pulling out a chair.
“Aren’t you working?” I ask, nodding toward the front.
“I still have to eat. We have another hour before the place really gets busy,” she says, squirting a mound of ketchup on her plate. I notice the bottle says organic, homemade. “Besides, I want to know what’s bothering you.”
“Nothing,” I say, picking up and dropping a potato wedge.
“Bullshit. Something’s got you all sour. Mom getting on your nerves yet?”
“She’s been great,” I say, making a mental note to call Josephine later tonight. I regret how I took off earlier. I debate whether to open up about what happened at Turner’s. Something about Regina reminds me of home, like we’re both not cut out for Whisper Falls. We could be friends, if only she’d let her guard down. I think she’s so used to being different she doesn’t know how to react to someone genuinely trying to earn her approval. “Remember that girl from last night? Bridgette?”
Still chewing, Regina drops her shoulders and rolls her eyes. “What I’d give to forget.”
“I saw her again today. She works at Turner’s furniture store.”
Regina nods. “I forgot about that. I don’t think she’s been there long. She usually can’t hold a job for more than a few months.” She wipes her mouth. “Did you talk to her?”
“Briefly. I wanted to confront her about that comment she made. She told me the people here think Coop killed Celia.”
Regina leans forward. “You didn’t know?”
“Did I know that people think my fiancé is a murderer? Your brother? No, I didn’t know that.”
Regina shakes her head. “Don’t let Bridgette get to you. She’s a nobody.”
“It’s the fact other people think Coop was involved. How am I supposed to build a life here knowing people think that? My gosh, I just met the police chief.”
“Jimmy is a family friend. He knows Cooper had nothing to do with Celia’s death. Lots of people do. It’s just people like Bridgette who won’t let the past go.”
“Why do they think Coop was involved?” In some ways, it feels like a betrayal to have this conversation with his sister, but she’s being more forthcoming, and these are things I need to know.
“Rumor was Cooper got angry and hit her with something before she went into the water. People look for someone to blame after a tragedy, and they’ve waited generations for the great Douglas family to fall.”
“Could someone have really done that? Hit her over the head?”
My mind returns to last night’s conversation at the lake. I didn’t expect Regina to have so much anger toward Celia, a girl who died thirteen years ago. Her words were filled with hate, a stark contrast to what Coop has said. Of course, he doesn’t talk much about Celia. When he does, he portrays a girl taken before her time. Regina portrayed something else.
“He had nothing to do with it, if that’s what you’re asking.” It’s the first time her voice lacks that sing-song element. She’s tense and defensive.
“I know. Celia drowned.” She needs to know I’m on her side. When it comes to Coop, I’ll always be on her side. “But doesn’t it bother you? Knowing people still say these things about him?”
“It does, but we’ve been defending him for a long time. Some people are determined to believe what they want to believe. Around here, people will take rumor over fact any day.” She leans back. “We know the truth. That’s all that matters. I think Celia climbed to the top of Miner’s Peak to jump off the rope swing and hit her head on the way down.”
“Regina?” Maple shouts from the register. “Someone has a question about the gluten-free menu.”
“Be right there.” Regina sighs. “Just talk to Cooper. It’s a hard topic for him. For all of us, really.”
“Thanks,” I say, noting my meal has barely been touched. Nothing to do with Regina’s cooking, rather my own nerves. I stand and push past the people crowding around the entrance. Coop still hasn’t texted, and I don’t feel like returning to the Gazette headquarters. Instead, I stroll until I reach a small courtyard in the center of downtown. The plaque on the sidewalk reads: Whisper Falls Memorial Gardens: Always Remember, Never Forget. There’s a small gazebo covered in flowers and a series of benches circled around it. I choose one and sit, waiting for Coop to finish at the office.