Until We Meet Again (12 page)

Or at least that’s what I’m counting on as I march
into the library for my first day of research. But as I burst
through the front doors, my visions of an army of helpful
researchers are dashed.

The library is packed to the gills with people. Some kind of
party? There are vases of fresh flowers. A string quartet. And
a huge banner reading “L. James Winthrop: Crest Harbor’s
Greatest Treasure.”

It’s the last thing I need right now. Every librarian is
surrounded by people holding little plastic plates of hors
d’oeuvres and chatting in polite mumbles. Don’t they realize
that I need help? Gritting my teeth, I spot a woman with an
official looking name tag and a bright red scarf, and shoulder my way over to her. “Excuse me,” I say, trying to convey
in my tone that I’m not here to chitchat.

She turns from her conversation with an older man
and smiles at me. I get right to the point while I have her
attention.

“I need to find all the information I can about Crest Harbor
in the nineteen twenties.”
“You might want to start in the nineteen thirties,” she says.
“You’re researching James Winthrop, I assume?”
I try very hard not to roll my eyes. What is it with people
around here worshipping their petty local celebrities?
“Never heard of him,” I say deadpan. It’s a lie. Just to
ruffle her feathers. I’m pretty sure we read one of his poems
in English.
She looks satisfyingly offended. “I see.”
“I’m looking for something else. A project for…school.”
She points vaguely to her left. “Microfilm is your best place
to start. On the basement level. East wing.”
I nod and march off with a grimace. Thanks for telling me
what I already knew. I guess I’m on my own with this one.
I set up camp in the microfilm section. There’s no time to
mess around. I have six days to find a murderer.
Six days.
Thanks to Lawrence, I have a few leads to research. Cooper
Enterprises. Cape Row. And the names Jerome Smith and
Cartelli. I can do this. I’m going to do this.
As the hours pass, however, it becomes clear that I’m trying
to find a few needles in a haystack. Reel after reel of microfilm and endless articles filled with names and places that
mean nothing to me. It takes me three hours to find even a
mention of Cooper Enterprises, and it ends up being a fairly
dull account of the company renovating an old textile mill.
My eyes start to blur. My mind wanders. More than once,
I find myself staring into space, lost in visions of Lawrence.
I’d give anything to hang out with him all day, talking on the
beach and feeling his arms around me, his lips on mine. His
lips trailing down my neck. His hands squeezing my waist.
His tongue…
Focus, Cass. I have to focus. If I can find leads that will
help, it’s worth being here and not with Lawrence. By four
in the afternoon, I’m not so sure anymore. A whole day spent
researching with nothing to show for it. My eyes are dry as
paper and crossing from information overload. I know staggeringly little for how much reading I’ve done. I’m not going to
make any progress with my brain this fried.
Despair grips me. A wasted day. A day I could have spent
with Lawrence, gone forever. I can’t get those hours back. The
thought makes me want to cry. I flop my head on the table.
“Can I help you with anything, miss?”
I sit up with a start. It’s the librarian from before, the one I
was kind of rude to. She doesn’t seem to remember. Her smile
is warm and genuine.
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I’m just having trouble finding what
I’m looking for.”
She nods knowingly. “It’s difficult. Like trying to find a
needle in a haystack?”
“Took the words right out of my mouth.”
She glances at the stacks of microfilm boxes piled around me
and then lifts one. “All nineteen twenty-five. Are you looking
for something in particular that happened in that year?”
“Well, more something I think might have happened.”
“Have you considered checking a year behind or ahead?”
Maybe I’m delirious from hours of eye-crossing tedium, but
I could swear I see a lightbulb snap on over her head. I must be
wearing my emotions on my face because the librarian gives me
a smile. “Good luck.”
I make a beeline to the drawers of microfilm. Drawing in a
breath, I close my eyes, make a circle, and point to a drawer.
March 1, 1927–May 1, 1927.
The first box yields nothing. Despair threatens again, but
I swallow it down. The second one is also useless. But then,
finally, in the third box, I have a breakthrough.
It’s a newspaper article discussing the arrest of several key
executives at none other than Cooper Enterprises. My pulse
quickens as I skim the text. This is significant. It has to be.
Granted, it says nothing about murdering an innocent teenage
boy, but they’re obviously a corrupt company, and this proves
it. Who knows what they’re capable of?
I sit back in my chair, suddenly overwhelmed. The day has
taken a toll on m. I feel exhausted but also deeply relieved.
I need to talk to Lawrence, to tell him to look into Cooper
Enterprises too. I gather up my makeshift campsite around the
microfilm projector with shaking hands. My heart soars. Thank
you, librarian lady.
I speed all the way home. As I pull up to the house, however,
I notice a red car in the driveway.
Brandon. I push my forehead against the steering wheel.
“Just perfect.”
Any hope of sneaking in unnoticed vanishes when I open the
door. Mom and Brandon stand in the kitchen, directly in my
line of sight. Mid-laugh, they both notice me.
“There she is,” Brandon says with what I’m sure was intended
to be a suave smile. “Feeling better?”
Mom’s expression cools. “Where on earth have you been?”
“The library,” I say, dropping my bags in a pile on the floor.
“Like I said this morning.”
“The library and…?”
“That’s it,” I say. “I went straight there and came straight back.”
Mom folds her arms and raises an eyebrow. “You expect me
to believe you’ve been at the library for eight hours?”
I sigh. Maybe I could make a run for the beach. I’ll hide with
Lawrence until my family decides I must have drowned and go
back to Ohio.
“Maybe I don’t want to know,” Mom says. “I can’t imagine
what could possibly compel a teenager to spend all day in a
library during summer break.”
“Ask the librarian if you don’t believe me.”
Mom reprimands my by narrowing her eyes. “Well, lucky for
you, Brandon here has convinced me to let you two hang out,
instead of grounding you immediately.”
This night keeps getting better and better.
“I brought that movie I was telling you about,” Brandon says,
holding up a DVD case.
This entire conversation is the last thing I need. My brain is
fried and my nerves are frayed. There’s no way I’ll miss seeing
Lawrence tonight. He’s probably waiting for me as we speak.
Brandon and his stupid movie are not going to keep me from
that beach.
“Great,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m looking forward to
it. Should we start in about an hour? You can go and…get
Slurpees or something.”
“Cass,” Mom says, disapproval thick in her voice.
“There’s some stuff I need to take care of. It’s really important.”
Brandon purses his lips. “I could go. I mean, if that’s what
you
really—”
“That would be great.”
“I don’t think so,” Mom says. She steps out of Brandon’s line
of sight and gives me a stern, why-are-you-being-so-rude look.
“Brandon’s been waiting almost an hour for you. Whatever you
have to do can wait until tomorrow.”
“It actually can’t.”
“It can and it will.” Now I’m getting the behave-or-you’regrounded look.
I weigh the risks of defying her. Being grounded at this
point would be pretty bad. Maybe I can rush Brandon out
the door. Feign sickness again halfway through the movie.
Lawrence will probably wait a while for me. Hopefully. I
swallow a heavy sigh.
“Great,” I say. “Let’s watch then.”
Mom nods. “I’ll make you two some smoothies. How about
that?”
“Sounds ginger peachy,” I mutter.
Mom breezes off to the kitchen, and Brandon gives me a
sheepish smile. “Hi, there.”
“Hi.”
“I was worried about you the other night.”
I avoid his gaze. “Oh yeah?”
“You got so sick so fast.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It was kind of crazy.”
“I’ve been trying to call you all day.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Studying at the library?” Brandon asks, raising a sly eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“And what are you researching?”
“What, are you Barbara Walters now?”
He laughs. “How about we start the movie?”
“Good idea.”
He stands there awkwardly for a minute before I realize this
is my house, and I should probably take him to the entertainment room.
I tilt my head to the side. “This way.”
As we pass a back window, I can just make out the bushes
near the beach. A fierce longing to run and meet Lawrence
grips me. There’s so little time. I should be spending every
second trying to save him.
“Great TV,” Brandon says, breaking my train of thought as
he flops on one of the leather couches.
“Yeah,” I manage, trying to sift as much of the irritation out
of my voice as possible. “So…I’m pretty tired. Maybe we can
just watch some of the movie?”
“Whatever you feel like,” Brandon says with a grin.
Oh boy. I hope he doesn’t think that was a veiled request to
make out.
I put on the movie, despite my brain screaming with resistance. Stalling as long as possible, I stand by the TV fumbling
with the volume, the color, the sound quality.
“Hey, you in the front row,” Brandon says. “You’re blocking
the movie.”
I offer a token laugh, and he pats a place next to him on the
couch. “Come on. You don’t want to miss the opening. There’s
a killer car chase.”
“Sounds…awesome.”
I sit as far to the side of the couch as possible, but Brandon
slides next to me. He smiles, as if we’re going to snuggle up.
Where does he get the idea that something’s going to happen
between us? I assume I can ascribe it to this new, sans-Travis
Howard alternate reality we’re living in now.
As the movie plays on the screen, I fold my arms tightly
across my chest to discourage any handholding action. Ten
minutes in, Brandon’s arm goes around the back of the couch.
Two minutes later, as a gas truck explodes on the screen in a
burst of orange flame, he slides it around my shoulders.
I give him a pointed look, but he just smiles. “Sweet movie, huh?”
I sigh and glance at the clock. I’ll give this twenty more minutes before I claim exhaustion. Mom ought to be appeased by
twenty minutes.
“You look really pretty tonight,” Brandon whispers, his
breath tickling my ear.
All at once, it hits me. I’m doing it again. Relapsing into
the same way of thinking that held me in a prison of angst all
summer. I’ve tried to be whatever everyone else wants me to
be, convincing myself that it’s what I want. But I know what I
really want now. And I’m not going to pretend anymore.
I take a deep breath, sitting up. “Look, Brandon. We need
to talk…”
He stiffens. “Okay.”
“I think you’re a really great guy—”
“Who wants smoothies?” Mom glides into the room, holding
a tray with two big glasses filled with pink Strawberry-Banana
Delight. Excellent timing, Mom. As always.
“Looks delicious,” Brandon says, flashing a grin.
“It’s my own special recipe. I won’t tell you the secret ingredient. Let’s see if you can guess.”
I get to my feet, and Mom’s smile fades.
“Cass? What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this,” I say. “I…have to go to bed.”
Without waiting for a response, I run upstairs. I push my
bedroom door shut and lean against it. I sit there for a long
time. The stress is starting to grate on me.
Across my room, the sheer white curtain on my window rustles, caught in a gust of evening wind. I can smell the ocean.
The beach. My jaw sets.
Snapping into action, I lock my door and scramble to
turn on some soft music on my radio. The old row-ofpillowsunder-theblanketthat’ssupposed-to-looklike-
my-body trick seems a bit middle school, but I’m not above
that. I tug a black sweater over my shirt and slide into black
pants. Apparently I’m not above looking like a pathetic
ninja either.
The great thing about living in a huge house is that it’s
fairly easy to sneak around. There’s only one close call as I
slide past the study, where Frank is on a late video conference with Beijing. I don’t know where Brandon went, and
I don’t care. Mom’s probably going to yell at me. Also don’t
care. As I break through the bushes to the beach, it’s all
worth it.
Lawrence waits in our usual spot. He turns, but instead
of rushing toward me, he just studies me. I tug at my shirt,
selfconscious.
“I look dumb, I know, but I had to sneak out.”
“You’re a vision, Cassandra.”
Now, he comes toward me. The feel of his kiss is even better
than in my daydreams. We spend the first half hour or so
reminding each other of that fact. Every second in that library,
every tense word with Mom was worth it if it buys me more
moments like this.
The thought of the library reminds me. We have important
things to discuss.
“We need to talk about Cooper Enterprises,” I say as Lawrence
moves his lips down the line of my throat.
“Do we have to?” he asks between kisses.
My eyelids flutter with pleasure. “Mm-hmm.” I sit back a
little. “I mean, yes. We have to talk. No more kissing.”
“Well, that’s no fun.”
“We can have fun later. Right now, we need to discuss what
I researched today.”
“Or…” Lawrence grabs me close again. “We could kiss now
and talk later.”
I resist his embrace. “This is serious, Lawrence.”
He sighs. “You’re right. So, did you find out something about
Cooper Enterprises?”
“Yes. They’re trouble,” I begin. “This article I found is from
nineteen twenty-seven. It talks about how almost all the top
guys at Cooper are arrested.”
“For?”
“Crime. Mostly business related, I think, but the article didn’t
really go into much detail.”
Lawrence frowns, deep in thought. “I could have guessed
this. I thought I smelled a rat.”
“It seems really serious.”
He nods. “I’ll do a little digging tomorrow.”
I grab his arm. “Be careful. Don’t go seeking out trouble just
to impress me. I’ll make out with you regardless.”
Lawrence nods. “Very good to know.” Then his smile fades.” But
maybe I’m bringing trouble just by knowing this information.”
“Don’t talk like that,” I say, cringing.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be morbid.”
“This is useful information,” I say. “And if we’re cautious and
thorough, it could be what saves your life.”
He presses his hand over mine. “I want to believe that.”
“I won’t give up on you, Lawrence. I really believe this is my
destiny. And maybe…”
My voice drops off, and he frowns a little. “Maybe what?”
“I don’t know,” I say hesitantly, looking down at my feet.
“No, tell me.”
“It’s just… I can’t help but think…” The right words seem
lost to me. “If fate is preventing us from seeing each other anywhere but on this beach, then maybe after I save you, we can
see each other beyond this beach.”
I almost don’t dare look up at him. When I do, he watches
me as if trying to understand. “You mean, you think we’d be
able to travel into each other’s times?”
My face warms. “It’s a stupid thought.”