Chapter 4
4
The pink cotton dress has little yellow flowers embroidered along the edge of the sleeves and the bottom hem. It’s something I wouldn’t even have picked out for a niece, if I had any, but combined with my fresh rosy cheeks and blond barrel curls, it creates the perfect look.
I take a deep breath before opening my front door, not sure what to expect from the other side, but knowing I have to greet it with a smile.
I don’t look to my right as I march down the front path and to the white picket gate. I haven’t seen Ben since my failed escape attempt, and for some reason, I almost dread seeing him again more than I do Mimi. He’s the only one here who saw a glimpse of the real me, the only one who might be able to blow my cover. The cover I’ll have to don convincingly if I have any hope of making my way home.
I plaster a grin on my face before I push open the door of the café, the bell tinkling joyfully, mocking me and my total lack of joy. The jingling shouldn’t bother me so much, but it’s an audible reminder of where I am and what I’m about to face.
Mimi is once again behind the butcher-block counter, and once again, there’s no one else here in the shop, the few scattered tables sitting waiting for patrons. The chalkboard menu details the day’s specials, the kinds of coffee drinks with multiple ingredients and more sugar than coffee. Mimi doesn’t look up from her work, studiously ignoring me.
But this time, I know just what she’s looking for. “Mimi! It’s so good to see you again!”
Her eyes narrow briefly as she takes me in from head to toe, my perfect pink dress and wide smile. There may be a hint of approval in her scrutinizing gaze, but that could be wishful thinking. “Good morning, Cam. I’m happy to see you.”
I approach the counter warily, never losing my false facade. “I would love to try one of those honey lavender lattes you mentioned, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Her hands immediately begin prepping ingredients, but her eyes never leave me, even as I sashay away, fluffing my skirt before sliding onto one of the distressed pastel chairs. Mimi finishes my drink and brings it over to the table, setting the mug in front of me before taking the chair opposite.
I look down at the coffee, a heart in the foam to match the sprig of lavender resting on the saucer. “I wanted to come in and apologize for my behavior the other day. I have to admit I was a little thrown when I arrived here!” I chuckle, though there isn’t an ounce of humor in it, and I can’t help but feel like I’m blowing this already. I really should have paid more attention in that theater arts elective I was forced to take in high school.
“And now?” Mimi brings her own mug to her lips, her eyes never straying from my face.
“And now I feel so blessed to be here!” I barely hold back the cringe, but I think I successfully turn my frown upside down.
“You do?”
“Yes, of course. I had been saying how much I was in need of a break, and now here I am, in the perfect place for a little mental recharge.” Never once have any of those words passed through my lips before, but she couldn’t possibly know that. Could she?
Mimi sips from her coffee without saying a word.
But she doesn’t need to, because it’s clear she isn’t buying what I’m selling. I don’t know why I thought I would be able to keep this up. I am the brash big-city girl, and maybe I just need to embrace my roots, lean into it. After all, this whole thing is supposed to be some kind of journey, right?
I sigh and settle back in my chair. “Can I be real with you, Meem?”
“Please do.” She waves her hand for me to continue.
“On the one hand, I get what’s happening here. I even get who you are in the whole grand scheme of things.” In more than one of the movies I imbibed the day before, there was a wise older person—usually Santa, but not always—who was there to guide the heroine on her new journey to a totally boring life. Given Mimi’s presence at the restaurant the night before this whole thing, she has to be that person for me. A sort of fairy godmother, but the opposite.
Mimi raises one eyebrow as if daring me to continue.
“I’m the big-city girl. I’m loud and opinionated and make no apologies for putting my career first.” I hesitate for a second, but she doesn’t interrupt me. “I was rude to Ben on our date, and I plan to apologize to him for that as soon as we’re done here.” I didn’t actually plan to do that because I don’t know that I really owe him an apology, but something tells me it’s what Mimi wants from me.
“And what do you want to happen after that, Cam?”
“Truthfully? I want to go home.” I need to go home, need to get back to work, but I know my audience, and I know that’s not how to win over Mimi. So instead I play up another angle. “My grandmother and the rest of my family, they need me.” It’s not exactly a lie, though I certainly don’t mean it in the way she’s probably taking it.
“Why do you think you’re here?” Mimi settles back in her seat, mirroring my position.
“Because I put my career first?” Because I apparently pissed off somebody powerful big time and am paying for it now? Karma is a bitch and all.
Mimi nods, like the answer is correct, but not nearly complete. “And why do you want to go home?”
A million possible answers float through my brain, but I didn’t make partner at thirty-four by blurting out the first thing that comes into my head when questioned. “I want to be there for my grandmother.” Another not-lie that certainly doesn’t tell the whole truth.
It’s not hard to tell that Mimi is not being won over. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Okay then.”
The breath catches in my chest. That was almost too easy. A wide smile spreads across my face and I clap my hands together. “Amazing! What do I need to do? Click my heels together three times and whisper there’s no place like home ? Let me know what I need to do, and we can get this done today, right now, the sooner the better!”
Mimi’s tinkling laugh echoes through the café. “Oh, dear. No. There’s no way you’re going anywhere today.”
I freeze in my seat. I’d been about to leap from the chair and rush out of the coffee shop, ready to put this madness behind me. “What do you mean?”
“Exactly what I said. You’re not going anywhere today.”
If I’m not mistaken, her tone is verging on threatening and one thing I do not take well is threats. “Look, Mimi, I don’t know who died and made you old lady Jesus, but if you think you can just trap me here in this hell hole, you’ve got another think coming.” I slap down my palm on the bright yellow table. “Do you know who my grandmother is? She has taken down adversaries way more formidable than the freaking mayor of Heart Bumfuck Nowhere Springs and she will sue your ass and take you for everything you’ve got.”
Mimi sits quietly for a minute, not at all cowed by my tirade. “Are you done?”
The unfamiliar feeling of shame heats my cheeks, but I don’t let it rattle my voice, don’t let it shake my resolve. “I just want to go home. Tell me what I need to do to get home.”
Mimi’s lips curl up in what can only be described as a smirk, and my, how the tables have turned. “It’s only three things, really.”
“Three things? Easy. Spell it out for me and I can knock out this shit and be back home for a tasty takeout dinner.”
“Number one: you must find a career you are passionate about.”
I sit back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. “Done. No one could say I’m not passionate about my career.” I think we have well established it’s my only passion.
Mimi purses her lips. “Let me clarify. I don’t just mean a career you are good at, one you are successful in, or thrive at. I mean a career you really, truly care about. One that brings you joy and fulfillment.”
“I made partner at thirty-four. I’m fulfilled as fuck.”
She raises her eyebrows in a hint of a challenge. “Number two: you must become a valued member of the community.”
“I take on at least one pro bono case a year. That has community value.” The statement sounds defensive and weak, even to my own ears, but really, how much time can I be expected to devote to helping others when my job demands my full and complete attention? “Okay, fine. I can bust out some community service.” Or throw some money at the problem and make it quicker and easier for all involved. “What’s the last thing? Hit me with your worst.”
The grin that spreads across her face is nothing short of gleeful and I know whatever is coming next is not good. “You need to experience true love.”
The second her words sink in, I burst out laughing. The laughter overwhelms me, consumes me; I bend over at the force of it, clutching my sides.
When I finally get a hold of myself, I sit up straight in my seat and level Mimi with a glare. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” One would presumably need to believe in love in order to fall into it.
Based on the sheer mass of media I consumed yesterday, this demand shouldn’t come as a surprise—it’s one of the themes that linked all the movies I watched. But really, no one in their right mind can expect me to give up my whole life for a man. I don’t like to think of there being anything in the world—real or imagined—that I can’t do, but falling in love might be the one thing on the list. I’ve seen firsthand the results of “true love”—it’s how my mom ended up a single mother who never lived up to her full potential.
Mimi gives me a helpless shrug. “I guess you’re going to be in Heart Springs for quite some time then.” Her smile is calm, totally pleasant, never once dropping even as I give her my best stare down.
Am I one to back down from a fight? No.
Do I fully understand where I am or how I got here or what even this place really is other than my own personal ninth circle? No.
Do I see any way out of this mess that doesn’t involve pushing straight through? Also no.
Sure, I could go back to my house and march in the opposite direction from the one I took two days ago. I could walk until my thighs officially turn to jelly and I collapse on the pristine sidewalk. I could burrow down underneath a comforter that has no business being as cozy and temperature controlled as it is (somehow I managed to stay both pleasantly cool and cuddly warm) and refuse to come out of the house until I’m magically reunited with my blackout curtains and designer wardrobe.
But something tells me neither of those options are going to yield me the results I’m looking for.
And so, the decision is really a simple one. If I must go along with these wholesome, heartfelt shenanigans in order to get back to where I belong, then that’s what I’m going to do. How hard can it be to fool a bunch of not-real people into believing I’m buying into their small-town Hallmark bullshit? I’ll just put on a happy face, find a career I “love,” whip up a couple of pies for the school bake sale, and convince one of the bumpkins the town is sure to throw at me that I’m totally into him.
“Okay.” I manage not to choke on the single word controlling the fate of my entire existence.
Maybe I do have a flair for the dramatic after all.
“I’m glad to see you’ve had a change of heart. And so quickly too! It takes most people longer to move on to the acceptance phase.” This smile from Mimi seems genuine, though she still watches me with an all too knowing gaze that will be haunting my dreams for years to come, I’m sure.
“I think you’ll come to find I’m not like most people,” I say as sweetly as I can manage.
“Hmmm. You might be right about that.” She finishes her coffee and takes both of our mugs over to the counter. “Have you thought about what you would like to do first?”
“Let’s go with the career thing.” I know my strengths.
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.” She pulls a notebook from the pocket of her apron. Flipping through the pages, her brow furrows until she seems to find what she’s looking for. “Ah. Here it is. Okay, so for careers, there are three possible openings. Number one is running the bookstore. Number two is working at the bakery. And number three is becoming a wedding planner.”
My nose wrinkles before I can stop it. I hate literally all of those options. Novels are a waste of time. I haven’t eaten carbs in at least five years. And marriage is a farce, which probably makes me a bit more cynical than your average wedding planner. “I was really hoping I could put some of my already developed and well-practiced skills to good use. Is there a town law office?”
Mimi makes a note in her little book. “Now, now, the whole point is for you to do something new, not fall back on the career you already know.”
“But it’s a career I’m very good at. And very passionate about. Didn’t you say I needed to be passionate about it?”
“Yes, but there’s a difference between passion and obsession.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I am not obsessed with my job.”
“So you work standard weekly hours?”
“For a lawyer, yes, I do.” The standard for partners being at least eighty hours a week, but I didn’t make the rules.
“And you have hobbies outside of work?”
“Yes,” I lie.
“And friends who are not affiliated with your job in any way, shape, or form?”
My cheeks heat as the lies continue. “Yes.”
“Hmmm.” She makes another note in her blasted book.
“Okay fine. I guess I’ll try the bookstore first. How hard can it be?”
“Fabulous. One thing to keep in mind—the citizens of Heart Springs think you have willingly moved to our beloved town and are looking for a job and ways to meet people. They are content here, living the kind of lives that truly make them happy. Don’t do anything to ruin that for them. Be at the bookstore first thing tomorrow.” She tucks her notebook into the apron pocket and turns to wipe down the counters. I suppose I am dismissed.
I push back my chair, smoothing down my skirt. “Can’t wait.” I don’t bother hiding the sarcasm. I’ve already agreed to her ridiculous plan; no more need to pretend.
“And Cam?” Mimi calls just as I’m shoving the front door open.
I pause just long enough to catch her parting words.
“I encourage you to approach everything and everyone in Heart Springs with an open mind and an open heart. It’s the only way you’ll truly find your way home.”
I turn my head so she doesn’t see my eyes roll.
The walk back to my house feels as long and tedious as client depositions. My mood does not improve when I approach the front walk and see Ben sitting on the porch next door.
Why the fuck isn’t he out finding himself or whatever? If he talked to Mimi two days ago, shouldn’t he be busy finding his life’s passion?
I borderline slam the gate of his yard open, stomp up the front walk, and collapse in the chair next to his.
“Hard day?”
I don’t need to look at him to see the smirk. I reach across the small space separating us and swipe the beer out of his hand, taking a long swig and practically draining it. “I don’t think this is a dream.”
“Pretty sure you’re right about that much, sweetheart.”
“So what is this place? Tell me your theories.” I hand him back his almost empty beer bottle, but he gestures for me to keep it. Two more fresh ones have appeared on the table between us. Or maybe they were there all along.
“A rip in the space-time continuum? The multiverse? I don’t know if we’ll ever really know. Some things are just beyond explaining, I think.”
I take another swig. “How can you be so calm about this?”
He shrugs. “In my line of work, you often have to deal with the unexpected. Getting ruffled by every little thing doesn’t help anyone.”
“I don’t think this is some little thing,” I mumble, picking at the label on the beer bottle. It doesn’t have a brand name on it, just “beer” written in bubbly white letters.
He hesitates for a second, but then continues speaking. “I’ve also seen some things, at work mostly, but in life too, that are just beyond explanation. Maybe this is one of those things.”
Hmm. I don’t buy it, but I don’t have it in me to shoot down his argument, at least not at the moment.
Maybe having Ben here will turn out to be a good thing. I get to have a partner in crime, someone else to suffer through this unique torture we’ve been exposed to.
“So did Mimi give you your tasks?” I ask.
Ben’s eyes stray from mine, dancing across the front yard in avoidance. “She did.”
“Do you also have to find a career you’re passionate about, help the community, and find true love?” My nose wrinkles as I repeat my list of assignments, as I think about how impossible they all seem.
“Not exactly.” He shrugs again, though this one is stiffer, like he’s forcing himself to be casual. “I already have a career I’m passionate about, and I already help the community. So I mostly get to keep doing those things.”
That doesn’t seem quite fair. When I told Mimi I was passionate about my career, she shot me down, but Ben somehow gets to keep his? Sounds like some patriarchy bullshit to me.
“Do you at least have to try to fall in love in the process?” I study the side of his face, making note of the slight blush pinkening the tops of his ears and his cheekbones.
“Something like that.”
“Wow, Ben, we just met. No need to dump your entire life story on me all at once.”
He makes direct eye contact and I like that he doesn’t flinch from my sarcasm. “I wasn’t aware you were interested in the details of my life. I seem to recall you telling me we didn’t need to do the whole getting to know each other song and dance.”
“Yeah, well that was before we got trapped in Pleasantville with no internet access.”
A half smile tugs on the corner of his lips. “How are you faring not being able to check your email?”
“I’ve been better, Doc.” I study that smirk, wondering what might lie beneath it. “How are you faring? Being away from whatever it is that’s important to you?”
The smirk fades. “I’m not going to pretend I’m not worried, about my patients in particular, but I know what I need to do to get back to them and I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”
At least that’s something we have in common. I hold out my beer bottle. “Cheers then, I guess. To finding a way home.”
He clinks his bottle against mine. “To finding what we need.”