Her First Mistake by Carey Baldwin (books for 10th graders txt) 📕

“Baxter, you shouldn’t spoil me like this,” Alma said. “I don’t think all of that’s going to fit in the freezer.”

Ignoring Alma’s complaint, he turned to Mia. “My darling wife has one weakness—she can’t resist ice cream. I wasn’t sure what kind you liked, though, so I brought a few to choose from. We’ve got Alma’s favorite—banana nut—then there’s strawberry, vanilla, and last but not least, chocolate. Choose your poison.”

“I haven’t had ice cream in a long time.” In truth, she rarely partook. It reminded her of her mother’s broken promises, of childhood dreams unfulfilled. It took a moment for Mia to find her voice, but, at last, she managed, “I’d like to try my mother’s favorite. May I please have a scoop of chocolate?”

Thirty-Three

Monday

Keisha’s deadline had arrived. It worked out well for Mia that Alma and Angelica had plans this afternoon, giving Mia time off to move her mother’s hope chest and take care of personal business.

This morning, Mia called Keisha at the Piano Man, and the two agreed to meet at Mission Beach. The trip from the Coopers’ residence, via public transportation, took about an hour, and Mia thought she’d have time on the way to figure out what to say. Only she hadn’t been able to come up with a single sentence, much less a compelling argument that would make Keisha see sense. It was impossible to concentrate when, from the moment Mia boarded her trolley, she’d had the feeling someone was following her—despite the fact she’d changed lines before deboarding at Mission Boulevard and San Rafael.

Now, she squatted, tied her shoelace, and glanced up and down Mission, promising herself this was the last time she’d check to see if Paul Hudson was among the foot traffic.

He wasn’t.

Relax.

Mia turned up Toulon Court in the direction of the ocean and breathed in the signature smells of Mission Beach: sand, salt and hot grease wafting from the burger joints surrounding the boardwalk. Climbing the narrow, bungalow-lined street, she took comfort in a familiar symphony: gulls cawing, skateboards screeching, and laughter floating on the breeze. The full-body tension that had been with her for hours, at last, loosened its grip.

She could handle this. It didn’t get more public than Mission Beach.

There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Nothing except being called out as a liar—nothing except squandering the friendship of the Coopers, devastating Alma with her betrayal, and becoming a suspect in a missing person investigation.

Mia’s past behavior had been beyond foolish, but it was a bell she couldn’t unring.

The only thing left for her to do about it was to change. She needed to make better decisions, starting with the one in front of her. “Keisha! Over here!” Mia waved at her approaching, would-be blackmailer, smiling her best, biggest smile, to let her know she wasn’t her enemy.

In return, Keisha smiled back.

Off to a good start.

“Love your earrings.” Mia got the ball rolling with an honest compliment. Keisha looked pretty in a flowing rainbow-colored kaftan. Oversized silver hoops adorned her ears. Her coral lipstick matched her sandals, and her sun-kissed hair hung in natural waves to complete the perfect day-at-the-beach look.

“How’d you get here?” Keisha hooked an arm through hers.

“Trolley.”

“You didn’t drive? You weren’t followed, were you?” Keisha whispered the question.

Mia pulled her arm free and stepped back, leaned against a retaining wall. “Why would I be followed? And why does it matter if I drove or took the trolley?”

“You can’t be too careful, is all.” Keisha lowered her voice once more, and looked over her shoulder and back. “I’ve got a feeling I’m being watched.”

The first thing that came to Mia’s mind was… “Do you know Paul Hudson?”

“No idea who that is, or why someone would be following me. It’s just a creepy feeling. Don’t make a big deal.” Keisha threw her hands up, protesting a bit too loudly.

“I’m not the one making a big deal. Maybe that feeling is guilt.”

“Excuse me?”

“Never mind. Look, a friend is picking me up later. He’s bringing a truck to help me move some things, so I took the trolley because we don’t want two cars. No one followed me. I’ve been very careful.”

“You told him you were meeting me?”

“No.” She was so jumpy, you’d think Keisha was the one being blackmailed instead of the other way around. “I said I was meeting a friend—I didn’t mention your name—for a beer at the beach.”

“Let’s do that, then.” Keisha stuffed her hands in her pockets and walked ahead.

Mia followed her to a liquor stand located less than a foot behind a “No alcoholic beverages beyond this point” sign. Keisha ordered two draft IPAs, and they took their foaming cups to the nearby “dining area”, which consisted of rickety plastic tables shaded by even ricketier red umbrellas.

Keisha slurped her beer, then dabbed a foam mustache from her lips. “Hot today.”

“Eighty-seven and muggy.” Mia lifted her hair off the back of her neck. “Feels like two hundred to me.”

“Same.” Keisha studied her acrylic nails. “Thanks for calling. I, uh, really appreciate you helping me out with my repair. Did you, uh, bring the cash?”

“No.”

Keisha shifted in her seat. Mopped her mouth with her napkin. “You need more time? I can, uh, give you a few more days if that’s the problem. The shop says my car won’t be ready today after all. I think maybe Wednesday. Can you get the money by then?”

“I’m not going to pay for your transmission, Keisha.”

“Then what the hell are we doing here?”

“We need to talk.”

Keisha rose and tossed her empty cup in the trash, the sun glinting off the rhinestones in her manicure. “It’s a shame, that’s all, what you did to poor Celeste. I feel terrible. You seem like a good person, but I’m sure you understand I can’t keep information like that from the cops.”

Mia jumped up to follow Keisha who’d turned her back and was heading for the ocean.

“I’m going for a walk on the beach if you want to come,” Keisha called back