“I told you,” I say, repeating what I’ve told her a million times, “the sales are mostly online, but we need the space for displaying the art and hosting events.”
“So you say,” she says and slips out her phone. “I’ve got forty minutes, want to go to Charlie’s?”
I take a peek at my own phone, checking the time and then snatching my newly acquired coffee. Martin won’t be here for another two hours. He does the packing and shipping and although I don’t physically do anything, he likes to have me around if he has questions about which pieces are which. He’s an older man in his seventies and technically retired from the postal service. Boredom led him to apply for the job. I’m glad Mandy hired him; he’s got stories that pass the time. So many stories about this small town.
“Charlie’s it is,” I say. I make sure to lock up, the bells above the door chiming for good measure. As I’m pulling on the handles to double-check it’s all secured, Renee asks me about Bridge’s first week of preschool.
She’s the fun aunt I wish I’d had when I was growing up. It makes me happy Bridget has her. Sharon and Autumn too. The three of them taught me a valuable lesson: friends can be your family.
From the gallery it’s only a five-minute walk to Charlie’s Bar and Grill. Naturally I brag about Bridge the entire way and it only makes Renee smile.
“That’s my girl.”
It’s a little past noon on a Thursday, so Charlie’s is bustling with people. The side patio is only half-full, though, maybe because the spring weather is bit hotter today than it should be.
Gesturing to the square iron table complete with a blue and white umbrella, I ask Renee, “Want to sit here?”
Nodding, she sits before I do. The matching iron chair doesn’t look comfortable, but I’ve been here for hours some nights and I know looks can be deceiving.
“I don’t know how you do it all alone.” Her downtrodden tone is unlike her and I don’t care for it.
I shrug, smiling as I see the side door crack open and Mary Sue steps out, propping the door open with her foot as she digs around in her apron tied at her waist, searching for something. Probably a pen.
“I’m not alone,” I tell her and give her a gentle nudge. There were plenty of moments over the past four years where I felt alone, although I’d never tell her that. I think everyone has those moments, though, no matter how many people are around you. Every mother definitely has those moments. It’s just a part of raising a child. I don’t want pity. Not when it comes to Bridget. She’s the best part of my life, my world. I don’t need pity because of that. Save it for my bills and family history.
Renee is a freaking mind reader, so I avoid her gaze the moment those thoughts hit me. I stare across the street, noting all the windows that are open at the bakery and making a mental promise to myself to walk that way when I go back to work. I love the smell of freshly baked bread.
Mary Sue Rodding, a sweet redhead with a fresh face and bright green eyes, takes our order. She’s waited on me the last three times and she remembered right away that I wanted both a sweet tea and a water, neither one with lemon. Her cousin is the football coach at Fieldview High, where she’s on the cheerleading squad.
Her family knows my family. Or knew them, I guess that’s more correct to say. I’m the last of the Williamsons and when I get married, poof, that tainted name will be gone. I’ll have an extra glass of champagne just to celebrate that victory.
It took me a long time to look anyone in the eye. Mary Sue always gives me a broad smile when she sees me, though. I think part of it is because she likes me, and part of it is because she likes the big tips I leave her. She’s also younger and it’s typically the older crowd that has an … issue with me from time to time.
“So the case is settled, Bridgey is in preschool, you have an exhibition coming up … anything else new?” Renee asks the second Mary Sue turns to head to the table behind us. I don’t recognize the people, must be folks from out of town.
Shrugging, I struggle to think of anything at all. I just feel relieved. For the first time in a long time, everything seems to be going right.
“Ooh, there’s something new,” Renee says as her face flushes crimson and she winds the tips of her auburn hair around her fingers. She tilts her chin forward and whispers, “Check them out.”
I swear her hazel eyes flash when she decides to turn on her charm. My first reaction is to shake my head at her in feigned disapproval. Let’s be real, though, I love a good piece of man candy.
I’m half hoping it’s someone doing construction on the old hardware store downtown. I know it’s in the process of being torn down and I envision a crew of construction workers, bodies glistening in the heat.
My body feels alive with awareness but my heart stutters, somersaulting over itself. I was not expecting to see a man I know.
I recognize his eyes first then his broad shoulders. The flash of a memory lights my body on fire. Thump, thump, my heart comes back to life.
Brody. The hiss of his name moaned years ago ricochets in my memory.
He looks all of the man I remember him to be, with a bit of wrinkles that are new around his eyes. The proof of his age only adds to how handsome he is. He has stubble I can see from here; it darkens his strong jaw.
The smile falls from my face in slow motion. He’s looking at me and I’m looking at him.
Oh shit. I suck in a deep breath, clutching the cloth napkin in my lap.
He saw me.
Brody
There’s an undeniable feeling when you meet the gaze of someone who knows you. Take that sensation and multiply it by a thousand, and you still wouldn’t come close to what I felt when her blue eyes finally found mine.
I knew it was her. The second I saw her, recognition washed over me. It started at the back of my neck and traveled lower. Taking its time just like she did when she drank me in.
That’s exactly what she did. The look in her eyes changed from mournful to longing and then grew hotter, blazing until she knew I saw her too.
Caught in my stare, her lips parted like I’d seen them do before and her eyes went wide. I can practically hear her heart hammering in her chest even though we’re across the patio of this restaurant.
“Dude, what the fuck?” Griffin’s comment distracts me, pulling my attention from her for just a split second.
His brow is cocked and his mouth open but no words come out. With a gesture of his hand, he silently scolds me for staring her down. It’s enough of a distraction, causing enough time to go by for Rose to hightail it out of there, her chair sliding back noisily and nearly falling over. I don’t remember a time when I’ve wanted to kick his ass more than this.
“Mags!” the woman she’s with calls out as Rose’s floral skirt takes off in a blur.
The iron legs of my chair scrape against the floor as I get up to follow her. It’s her. It is absolutely her. Why she’s running? I have no idea but every instinct in me forces my muscles to cord and tense so I can follow her while I call out, “Rose?”
“Dude!” Griffin yells out, causing the onlookers who were focused on the object of my own attention to turn their prying eyes toward me. I couldn’t give two shits … if it wasn’t for the woman now standing up from her seat and refusing to let me pass. She’s blocking my path by the railing, preventing me from running down the steps and around the corner where Rose just took off.