Page 73 of Too Old for This

My house is finally empty.

Noah and Olive left days ago. I dropped them off at the airport myself. They wanted to take a rideshare, but I wouldn’t allow it. The last thing I wanted was for some crazy driver to abduct them and do God knows what. They made it to the airport just fine, which is exactly what I told Stephanie.

Now, just a few more details to figure out.

My house is just about sold; the closing is set for next week.

I didn’t want Kelvin to have it until he made the highest offer with a quick close.

My hope is that he doesn’t destroy it. But truthfully, it doesn’t matter.

Because of him, I will get to live at Oak Manor.

Tom Wallace knew a good deal when he saw it.

The packing comes next. I’ve already started cleaning out the closets, sorting through what can be donated and what needs to be thrown out.

The strangest thing is that it doesn’t upset me to do this.

I thought it would, but it doesn’t. It feels good to get rid of all these old things I don’t need and never use.

I really am ready for the next phase of my life. The only things I want are ease and comfort and relaxation. No stress. No worrying.

The knock at the door doesn’t bother me one bit.

It could be Delia. Or maybe Tula. Has to be one of the two. Sheila and Bonnie always call first. They don’t like uninvited guests, either.

I look through the peephole and see freckles. Red hair.

Cole.

You have got to be kidding me. I take a deep breath, grab the walker, put on my glasses, and open the door. Plum’s boyfriend and I have not spoken since the last time he was at my house.

—

“Peppermint or Earl Grey?” I ask.

“Earl Grey.”

A different answer than before. Although, if I remember correctly, he never did sound convinced about the peppermint.

He looks a little different today. His red hair is shorter and neatly trimmed, not shaggy like it was before, when he was searching for Plum. Cole is also wearing a crisp button-up and ironed khakis, instead of a T-shirt and jeans. And I think I smell cologne.

“We didn’t get a chance to talk about what happened with Norma,” I say. “How are you doing?”

“Okay, I guess? It’s all so unbelievable. And we still don’t know what happened to Plum.”

“You’re right. We don’t.”

No cookies today. All I have is half a loaf of zucchini bread that Bonnie gave to me. She doesn’t think I’m eating right, because I keep bringing store-bought food to church. If I had known she would start baking me bread, I might’ve done that sooner.

“Honestly, I can’t blame Norma for losing it.” I sit down at the table with Cole and take a sip of tea. “I might do the same thing if Archie went missing.”

“You aren’t the first parent who’s said that.”

His plate is already empty. I grab the knife and cut another slice. “Have some more bread.”

“I’ve been thinking of what I can do,” he says.

“Do?”

“For Plum. I hope she’s okay, and I hope she shows up one day, but I’m not stupid. I know she probably isn’t going to.” Cole swallows hard enough to make his Adam’s apple bob. “So I want to do something to honor her, if that makes sense. To remember her.”

There’s that word again. Remember.

Plum is already dead. She doesn’t want anything anymore. But her boyfriend wants to make sure she is remembered .

“What do you have in mind?” I ask.

“I want to make her docuseries. The one she was working on when she disappeared.”

Oh no, Cole.

I am supposed to spend my remaining years arguing with telemarketers, gossiping about petty-cash thefts, and playing with my new grandbaby. I am not supposed to be famous or infamous or a killer on the run.

“She was really passionate about this project, as you know,” he says. Cole can’t help himself. He is still trying to be the hero.

“How thoughtful of you,” I say.

“And I want to ask you the same thing she asked. Will you consider being interviewed for the show?”

I stand up. “Let me get some napkins. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got in mind?”

He takes out his phone. I shuffle over to the umbrella stand and grab my old one. It feels so solid in my hand. The handle would crush his skull in an instant, same as it did to Plum’s.

Instead, I let go. The umbrella drops back into the stand.

Maybe it’s because of what Cole said. Ever since Spokane, I’ve been thinking about my conversation with Burke. Specifically, about his obsession with being remembered.

I won’t be. Not as things stand right now, anyway.

And for Archie’s sake—along with those of Morgan, Olive, Noah, and the baby—I don’t want to be remembered for my past. Which means I have to do something new, something amazing, something people will talk about for a long, long time.

Something good . And I have to do it fast.

“What if I help you make one of these shows?” I ask.

“By help, you mean doing an interview?”

“I don’t mean a series about me, but about someone else who was wrongfully accused of a crime.”

Cole scrunches up his face. “Who?”

“We could figure it out together. You and I could continue what Plum started.”

He sits back, appearing to think about this.

“And if we made a series about someone elderly like me,” I say, “they would be more likely to talk to someone their own age. I could help you with this.”

“I didn’t think about making more shows,” he says. “Just the one about you.”

“But then Plum’s dream would die, wouldn’t it?”

He slowly nods his head. “That’s true.”

“We can’t let that happen. If you want Plum to be remembered, it has to be something that continues on.”

The more I think about it, the more I love this idea. It’s murder-adjacent, but it doesn’t put me at any risk. I wouldn’t kill anyone. My job would be to talk about it, and to get others to open up.

Now, that I can do.

“She did a lot of research,” Cole says. “There are quite a few cases she was considering.”

“Well, of course. There are so many wrongfully accused people in the world. We could make a real difference.”

“In Plum’s name.”

“Absolutely.”

I smile, he smiles, and it feels like the start of something new and exciting. Even at my age, that’s possible. There’s a whole world out there that doesn’t include murder. Not directly.

Cole shifts in his seat. I glance under the table and purse my lips. I’d forgotten how tall he is. I’d have to break his legs to get him in the freezer.