Chapter 9
9
I take my time wandering through the carnival, making my way toward the exit. There are more people here than I’ve seen at any one time since landing in Heart Springs, and they’re all laughing and playing games and eating funnel cake and seemingly having a marvelous time. It’s not the kind of scene I ever would have longed to be a part of, but something about seeing it all here in front of me, well, that might be a jolt of loneliness piercing my heart.
I search the crowd for any signs of potential suitors, but all I can see are couples and families, which is a bit of a relief. I don’t know if I’m ready to come face-to-face with the kinds of men Mimi thinks are right for me. When even Ben’s sweatshirt can’t keep me warm enough, I hurry for the exit and make the short walk back to my little cottage. I’m tempted to hop in a hot shower, and lord knows I’ve earned one, but I promised Ben I would come back quickly, and it probably won’t help my case with the community if I abandon a children’s hospital fundraiser. And since finding a spot among the community somehow seems like it might be the only task I actually have a hope of accomplishing, I don’t think I can afford to fuck this one up.
So I change into a pair of jeans and a dry T-shirt and slip Ben’s sweatshirt back over my head. Only because there don’t seem to be any hoodies hiding in my frill-filled closet and I need something to keep me warm. Nothing to do with the fresh woodsy scent lingering on the fabric. After running a brush through my hair, I tie it up in a bun and wipe the remains of my makeup from my face.
Ben is waiting for me at the entrance when I make my way back to the carnival. I know the instant he spots me because his eyes take me in from head to toe, and I’m too far away to be sure, but something like appreciation lingers in his gaze.
But I must be hallucinating because by the time I cross through the gate, he’s back to all business.
“That was quite a long break, but glad to have you back.” He steers me, hand on my back, down one of the many aisles before depositing me at the bakery booth. “This is Emma, help her with whatever she needs.” He lingers there, hand still on my lower back for a half a second.
“Ben! We’re out of tickets at the ring toss booth!” a faceless voice in the crowd calls.
“Duty calls,” he tells me, his hand skimming my waist as it drops back to his side. “You okay here?”
I nod, words sticking in my throat.
“See you later, sweetheart.” Ben strides down the aisle.
I do not watch him walk away, not even for a half a second.
I take in a steadying breath before turning to face Emma, a beautiful Black woman who looks to be in her early thirties, who no doubt has heard all kinds of terrible things about me and would really rather have anyone else here in her booth to assist. She’s wearing a bright yellow dress and a jean jacket, the kind of outfit I would scorn in New York, but here in Heart Springs, I can appreciate the pop of color and how comfortable Emma seems in her own skin.
Emma greets me with a warm smile that lights up her whole face. “Hi there! I’ve been looking forward to meeting you!”
“You have?” The words slip out before I can stop them.
Emma laughs, and it’s kindhearted without even a hint of teasing. “Of course! Mimi mentioned that you might be interested in working at the bakery and I’ve been looking forward to the help.”
I take the pale yellow striped apron she offers me, tying the strings around my waist. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but so far I appear to be the opposite of helpful.”
She shrugs, handing a customer change and a perfect-looking pie in a pretty lavender box. “That just means you haven’t found the right job yet. Maybe baking is going to turn out to be your one true passion.”
“I doubt it.” I eye the various baked goods artfully arranged on the yellow gingham covered tables. Everything looks like it could be photographed for Martha Stewart Living , and if the smells are any indication, they taste as good as they look. “I don’t think I’ve ever baked anything in my life.”
“Well, you never know until you try!” Emma handles another customer before turning her attention solely to me. “Would you rather take orders or box up the goodies?”
“Taking orders means dealing with people, so I’ll do the boxing.”
Another kind smile lights up her warm brown eyes. “You got it! I’ll point things out as needed, but everything is labeled, and the boxes are under the table.”
“Great.” I try to infuse the simple declaration with an exclamation point, but it probably comes out more strangled than enthusiastic.
Yet despite my trepidation, my time in Emma’s bakery booth goes relatively smoothly. It takes me a minute to figure out where all the items live, but we quickly develop a rhythm, Emma taking orders for cupcakes and cookies and the most heavenly looking cinnamon rolls, and me boxing them up. I’m tempted to swipe my finger through each treat piled high with frosting, but I show some self-control and before long, all of the baked goods have been sold.
Emma releases a huge breath and claps her hands as we send the final customer off on their way. “Oh my. Thank you so much for coming to help me, I don’t think I would’ve survived that on my own!” She wraps me up in an impromptu hug, and I can’t help but hug her back.
“No problem. It feels nice to actually be useful for a change.” I’ve experienced more failure in the past few days than the previous few decades combined and I didn’t quite realize how much it was bringing me down until this minute. “Thank you for being patient with me and showing me the ropes.”
“My pleasure!” Emma bustles around the booth, packing up the remaining boxes and the various display platters. Until she spots something and stands up with an “Oh!” She immediately begins fiddling with her hair, patting and twisting the halo of curls surrounding her gorgeous face.
I look around for the cause of her sudden interest in beauty maintenance, but only see Mimi, striding toward the booth with a purpose. It’s the first time since being here that I’ve seen her outside of the café and as I take in her relaxed jeans and baby blue twin set cardigan, topped with a simple string of pearls, my interpretation of her as the classic grandmother figure is cemented.
“Fantastic. You’re still here.” She doesn’t actually sound all that happy to see me, which sort of stings a bit. “And you met Emma.” Mimi nods to her, though Emma isn’t paying attention, her gaze focused on the man standing behind Mimi.
He’s a tall and lanky East Asian man with bright eyes and brown hair that’s disheveled in a not on purpose way.
Mimi grabs him by the arm and brings him forward, practically shoving him into my face. “This is Ethan.”
A lot of things happen at once after that.
Ethan stammers out a hello.
Emma lets out a sound that’s suspiciously whimper-like.
I groan. Audibly.
Mimi rolls her eyes.
And Ben comes charging down the aisle, stepping between me and Ethan, clearing a space between us.
“Cam, I need you to come assist with cleanup,” Ben says, breaking the absurdly awkward tension.
“I think she can stay and chat with Ethan for a few minutes,” Mimi insists.
I’m already backing away from whatever this hot mess is. “Sorry, Meem, but I should make sure I’m working hard for the betterment of the community. Nice to meet you, Ethan, maybe you could stay and chat with Emma for a few minutes?” I link my arm through Ben’s. “Emma, I’ll plan on being at the bakery tomorrow morning for my first shift?”
I don’t wait for an answer, tugging Ben along in the direction of anywhere but here.
Once we’re away from the crowd, I pull Ben to a stop. “Please tell me Ethan is not one of my suitors.” Nothing against the guy, he just has not my type stamped all over him. I don’t do nice guys. Literally or metaphorically.
“Unfortunately, Ethan is one of your suitors.” Ben’s jaw tenses, and I think it’s the first time I’ve seen him visibly upset before.
“ Unfortunately because in spite of his unassuming looks he’s really a total jackass?”
“ Unfortunately because Ethan is one of the nicest guys in Heart Springs.” Ben turns away from me.
I let the words sink in without questioning how Ben knows enough about him to make such a statement, and totally lie to myself about how much those words sting. “And the worst thing that could happen to a nice guy would be being matched with someone terrible like me, right?” Even though I’d already mentally written off Ethan, I can’t deny the prick of Ben’s disapproval.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Sure.” I yank on the sleeves of Ben’s sweatshirt, pulling it over my head and shoving it into his chest. “Well, you don’t have to worry about Ethan. I’m not going to date him.”
Ben barely catches the hoodie, looking for a second like he wants to shove it right back at me. “I’m afraid it doesn’t work like that, sweetheart. If Ethan is one of your suitors, then you have to go out at least once.”
I shrug. “I’ll have a cup of coffee with the guy, but I’m not going to be pursuing anything with him.”
“Too good for a nice guy like Ethan?” Ben’s words are cutting, and I’m wondering where the hell the sudden attitude is coming from.
“Emma is clearly into him.”
“I wouldn’t think that would stop you.”
“Fuck, Ben, did someone piss in your Cheerios this morning? What the hell happened over the course of the last hour? I know no one in this town actually likes me, but I didn’t realize you hated me as much as everyone else.” I spin on my heel and march toward the exit, completely done with this bullshit. For an hour or so there, working in the booth with Emma, it seemed like things might be going okay. I wasn’t fucking up everything, and it actually felt good.
And now the one person I thought might be sort of on my side has completely turned on me.
Whatever. I won’t allow Ben’s words to affect me. It’s not like I really believed we were becoming friends.
As soon as I get back to the cottage, I’m losing myself in a hot bath and a glass of wine.
“Cam, wait!” Ben’s voice catches me as I’m turning down the sidewalk in front of our houses.
I don’t stop, continuing to stomp my way along until I can throw open my front gate.
He catches me just before I can slam the front door in his face. “I’m sorry.” He sucks in a long breath, winded from chasing after me. Which is his own damn fault. I push on the door.
Ben holds up a hand, but he doesn’t make contact with the yellow-painted wood. “Please. Just give me a second.”
I shouldn’t, but there’s something in the deep brown of his eyes that causes me to open the door back up, just the slightest bit.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was upset about something else and I took it out on you.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “What were you upset about?”
His eyes flutter closed for a second while he gathers himself. “I can’t tell you. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
“Why?”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“What happens if you tell me? Does Zeus come down and strike you with a lightning bolt? Does the Great and Powerful Oz send you hurtling back to Kansas?”
“I just can’t.” He holds up a hand to stave off the protest he knows is coming. “Please just believe me when I say I’m trying to look out for you. But sometimes that’s not the easiest thing to do here. You just have to trust me.”
I scoff. “I don’t trust anyone, Ben. I’d think you’d know enough about me by now to realize that.”
He flashes me a soft smile. “I do. I know what I’m asking, and I’m asking it anyway.”
I study him for a second, looking for the usual signs someone is blowing smoke up my ass. But all I see is Ben, the first, and by default, best friend I’ve ever had. “Fine. But don’t take your anger out on me again, got it?”
He gives me a mock salute. “Sure thing, sweetheart.”
“Well, have a good night, I guess.”
“Yeah, you too.”
I close the door behind him and peek out the front curtain to watch him head back to the carnival. For a second, I feel guilty for abandoning my cleanup duties, but the feeling doesn’t last long. Between the dunk tank and Mimi’s emotional warfare, I think I more than fulfilled my obligations to the community.
And something tells me that tomorrow, going into the bakery and facing Emma and dealing with the whole Ethan situation is going to be the pinnacle of awkward.
And so into that long, hot bath I go.