Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Louisa
The next morning, Olivia and I drive into town to shop for some clothes.
I’ve decided I need something besides Ellis’s stash of cool-grandma gear. For one thing, the granny clothes are too big for me, and for another, there are far too many shirts with the word “Nana” on them, which makes it weird when I’m making out with her grandson.
At the small boutique on Main Street in Darling Creek, we find a couple of mix-and-match pieces for me, as well as a couple of pairs of jeans and an extra cardigan.
“You do not need another one of those,” Olivia teases. “They hide your figure.”
I cluck at her. “The other one is brown. I need one in black, too. And a beige one for summer.”
Olivia rolls her eyes. “You’re a lost cause.”
Together, we hit the bakery next, where she introduces me to the owner, Miriam, who is heavily pregnant and cute as a button.
While we’re enjoying our coffees and apple turnovers, a tall man in jeans and a light-colored cowboy hat strolls in. I do a double take because he looks like a ringer for the actor who stars in Justified, which I’ve started watching on Ellis’s TV. Excuse me, our TV.
I lean over the table and whisper to Olivia. “He looks like…”
“I know,” she says. Then she gestures for me to watch what happens next.
Curious but feeling like a creeper, I watch the Timothy Olyphant lookalike go behind the counter and kiss the much younger Miriam like she’s the last woman on earth.
Oh. Wow.
He rubs her swollen tummy and murmurs, “Anything?”
Miriam giggles. “Not yet. Soon.”
The sexy cowboy kisses her again, this time with so much tongue that it could be visible from space. I’m blushing down to my toes when he asks, “How about now?”
“I have work to do, silly. I promise you’ll be the first to know.”
My jaw drops. I look at Olivia, who fans herself. The two of us have an entire conversation using only our eyeballs.
As he leaves, he nods at us. “Enjoy your day, ladies.”
“Is something in the water here?” I ask after he's gone.
Olivia nods. “There definitely is.”
We finish up our pastries and take our coffees to go after wishing Miriam the best of luck with her due date.
At the small grocery store on the corner, Olivia picks out the perfect roast for tonight when I get the scare of my life.
A woman’s low, raspy voice behind me says, “Louisa?”
I recognize that voice, but it doesn’t make sense here. In this grocery store. On this day.
Olivia drops the roast, and we spin around.
My hand goes to my mouth. I can’t breathe. I can hardly think.
Finally, just one word comes out, and I clutch my throat as if to keep myself from screaming.
“Mom?”