Chapter 16
sixteen
S tanding on Village Lane, Cade unfolded the printed map of Magnolia Bay from his pocket and smoothed the wrinkles. The afternoon sun streamed over the sheet, and he squinted. Birds chirped overhead, and the scent of coffee still lingered in his nose. After their successful talk at Chug a Mug—thanks to Rosalyn—he’d finally felt inspired enough to quit putting off the inevitable.
Marking these blasted potholes.
“Mind some company?”
Cade turned, tucking his Sharpie behind one ear. Rosalyn stood on the sidewalk in front of him with her arms crossed self-consciously. She’d changed since Chug a Mug a few hours ago, trading workout clothes for linen shorts and a sleeveless top that highlighted her toned upper body. After the coffee meeting with Trent, they’d shared an awkward side-hug and went their separate ways—him to his office, and her, he assumed, to her home or the studio.
But the sight of her standing there wanting to help brought more joy than it should, considering her current situation.
Their current situation.
Cade held up his map, risking a smile. “Only if you want to be put to work.”
“Physical or mental?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Bit of both.” He tried not to drink in the sight of her, despite his eyes feeling more than a little dehydrated. It seemed like she’d forgiven him for his overreaction in New Orleans, considering how she’d helped lasso Trent back into the game.
But why—for Cade’s sake? Or for the sake of the town in general? He knew better than to assume. And without Trent sitting at the table as a buffer, he had no idea how to interpret her body language. Her tone.
Rosalyn held out her open palm. The wind teased loose tendrils of her hair, ever escaping her ponytail. “Got another Sharpie?”
“Oh no. You have to earn Sharpie privileges.” He tapped the marker behind his ear, ignoring the way his heard thudded overtime in his chest. They could be friends. This would work. “I have to warn you, I have a very sophisticated rating system.”
“I’d expect nothing less.” She fell into step beside him as they ambled down the sidewalk. Two kids zoomed around them on bicycles. Down the street, the sprinkler system in front of the library kicked on, sending arcs of water across the lawn. Prisms of light sparkled in the drops.
He dared to relax. See, he could walk beside her without thinking about taking her into his arms again and—okay, maybe not yet. But he was trying.
“So, what are we rating?” Rosalyn asked.
“Potholes.”
She snorted, shoving her hands into the front pockets of her shorts. Then her eyes widened at his silence. “Wait. Are you serious?”
“Unfortunately.” Cade lifted one hand in a wave as Pastor Dubois cruised Village Lane in his SUV, windows down.
She chuckled. “I assumed we’d be going on a Magnolia Days task when I invited myself along.”
“It’s connected. I mean, if they might film a movie here, we’ve got to deal with the potholes sooner rather than later—not to mention I suspect there are multiple bounties on my head until I do.” Miley being the top of that list. Although, she was trusting him with her secret, so maybe she’d let up.
Mama D wouldn’t though.
He pointed to the map. “This is an aerial view of all the streets in Magnolia Bay, so I plan to mark where the holes are, then rate them in order of which needs the most attention. Then I can start putting pressure on the public works department to get it scheduled.” He grimaced. “Assuming Magnolia Days is successful enough that I can.”
“Ah.” Rosalyn leaned in to see the map straight-on, her ponytail swishing over her shoulder. Good grief, she smelled good. “And we’ve only got, what? Two weeks or so until the first day of the festival?”
“Right.” So much to do still. But he needed to be able to tell the townspeople—Miley, Mama D, Miley’s dad, grumpy Mrs. Peters—that he was working on their concerns. That he heard them.
Cade couldn’t risk them doubting his competence and not voting for him.
Rosalyn looked up from the map. “This rating system. Is it, like, one through ten? Ten being the biggest hole in need of prioritizing?”
“I’m disappointed in you, Ace.” He fought to urge to ease a half-step away from her and instead smiled like she wasn’t wreaking havoc on his neuro paths. “I said it was sophisticated.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She laughed as they continued strolling down Village Lane. “Let’s see. Roman numerals?”
He held up one finger to tell her to wait, then turned away as he drew a quick circle on the paper where the pothole in front of Magnolia Blossom resided. He scribbled something next to it, then turned back and presented the map with a flourish.
“Starter home.” Rosalyn read out loud, frowned, then smirked. “In other words, too small to house a family of four?”
“Exactly.” He fluttered the paper. “Chug a Mug was already rated, so I figured I’d keep it going. Brilliant, right?”
“And to think I beat you for valedictorian.”
“The world’s an unfair place.” Cade handed her the marker. “But at least now you’ve earned your Sharpie privileges.”
“I’ll be sure to give this mission the respect it deserves.” She tucked the marker behind her own ear, and for a moment, he wondered if they could do this—be friends. Work together. Have fun.
Not make out in the rain.
But only if they completely cleared the air.
“Listen, Rosalyn.” He kept his gaze on the beds of tulips bordering the sidewalks, the passing cars on the sun-speckled road, the missing shingles on the roof of Cajun Cuts salon. “Thanks for helping with Trent.”
Though he hated that she had to. Hated that for once he couldn’t convince someone to do something. Cade was losing his edge, and at the worst time possible. Was it because of the distraction Rosalyn presented? Or the stress of the upcoming mayoral campaign and the sudden accompanying anxiety attacks? Or was it from carrying the entire town on his shoulders?
Okay, maybe he had good reasons for losing it.
Rosalyn kept pace beside him. “I figured it was the least I could do after I handled…” She swallowed. “…New Orleans so poorly.”
“No, I handled that poorly.” He stopped and faced her now, the map crinkling in his grip. “You didn’t—and don’t —owe me anything. We’re not, you know. Dating, or whatever.”
Did she wince, or was it wishful thinking?
“Maybe not.” Rosalyn hesitated. “But I still feel like I led you on.”
“Did you?” Oops. Hadn’t meant to be blunt.
She pulled in her lower lip. “More like I got caught up in the moment.”
That made two of them. A moment he’d relive for the next several weeks if he wasn’t careful.
Still, he had to know. “I understand a technicality is still a technicality, but there’s more to all this than just a marriage certificate, isn’t there?” Cade asked.
She nodded, brow pinched. A shadow of regret clouded her expression. “It’s…complicated.”
Man, he wanted to push that further. Crack that word open, see what lived inside. There was clearly still more to this story. But if she wasn’t volunteering the details, it wasn’t his place to ask.
So he inhaled instead, shoved aside the rest of the what-ifs, and gently touched her arm. “I guess we’ve never had great timing, have we?”
A semi-sad smile twisted her lips. “I guess not.” She took his hand in hers, squeezed, and then let go.
He should do the same.
They walked in a silence, the sun warm overhead. Cade opened his mouth, unsure what to say next, but feeling it was all still so unfinished.
He was about to crack a joke about the potholes when Rosalyn spoke first. “Thanks for keeping my secret, by the way. No one else knows about this, not even my parents.” She looked at her feet as they walked. “I can’t disappoint my mom that way.”
“I won’t tell, but…” Cade frowned. “I’m sure they’d try to help if they knew.”
“You don’t understand. There’s no way I can tell my mom her daughter is getting divorced before she even has a wedding.” Rosalyn shook her head. “It’s not easy being Rose Dupree’s daughter.”
“Oh, I get family pressure side, trust me.” Cade’s chest tightened. He considered telling her about the political shoes he was expected to fill soon, but it didn’t feel right. This was about her. “What do you think will happen if she finds out?”
“Nothing outwardly. She’s too poised for that.” Rosalyn took a breath. “Basically, my mom warned me about Blaine before I signed with him, but she could only source ‘mother’s intuition’ as her reason. I thought it was another control attempt, a way for her to say ‘told you so’ about my choosing aerial, so I disregarded it. But now…I guess she was right.”
Cade wanted to take her hand again, encourage her to keep talking. But he forced his hand sat his sides. “Right, how? Didn’t you say Blaine helped you get out of Saudi Arabia?”
“Yeah, but he’s gotten me into a pretty big jam, and I went with it.” Rosalyn squeezed her eyes shut. “It was dumb. I was dumb. But you’ve got enough on your plate without me adding to it with all that.”
“Never too busy to listen.” He’d stop right now and sit crisscross applesauce on the sidewalk if she’d tell him everything. But that’d be an odd look for a mayor-elect. “Look, I know this isn’t my business, but it sounds like a big enough to deal to tell your parents. Maybe they’ll surprise you.”
“You don’t get it.” Rosalyn’s expression tightened. “I can’t disappoint her again over being a bad judge of character.”
“Again?”
“It’s a whole story. But basically, Mom married into money. I never knew that until we went to my grandmother’s funeral when I was…I guess nine years old. Grandma’s house—the one my mom grew up in—was in this low-income neighborhood. Bars on the windows, overgrown weeds, high crime stats. Mom acted weird, but I didn’t care. I was just excited to see my cousins I never knew about.”
“Seems right for a nine-year-old.” Cade gently guided her off the sidewalk and onto the grass as another bicyclist pedaled by, a cat riding in the front basket. “Go on.”
“My cousins were older than me. Preteens and young teenagers. I thought we’d all play games while the adults did the post-funeral lunch prep, but they wanted to walk to the gas station down the street.” She scrunched her nose. “In hindsight, I don’t think I even asked permission. I assumed it’d be okay because I was with my cousins, and they were ‘old enough.’”
Cade slowed his pace, turning to give her his full attention.
“I wondered how we were going to pay for anything, but once we got there, they started stuffing candy bars in their pockets. Soda cans in their jackets. Gum, keychains, you name it. We probably stole a hundred dollars or more of junk.” Rosalyn shook her head, her brow pinched. “I didn’t say anything. I turned down their offer of a snack, but I didn’t try to stop them.”
He softened his tone. “You were a kid. It’s understandable.”
“I knew better. When we got back to the house and got caught with all the stuff, Mom said I’d humiliated her.” Rosalyn’s cheeks flushed. “I realized later, after eavesdropping on her and my dad, that she was embarrassed over her roots. She took a lot of pride in escaping that town and making a better life for herself, so she panicked when she thought I’d been pulled into that world. I was supposed to be different.”
Cade frowned. “Did you ever tell her you didn’t steal?”
“I tried, but my cousins lied and said it was my idea.” Rosalyn started walking again, giving him no choice but to follow. “Regardless, I stayed silent in that store when I should have spoken up then . Mom told me I had bad discernment.” She shrugged. “And she was right—Blaine being Exhibit B. I shouldn’t trust myself.”
They walked in silence as Cade tried to process her story. “Is that why you were so driven in school? So determined to beat me, to be the best?” He could see it. “You were trying to prove you weren’t a bad person.”
“Maybe so. I already was the oddball in the family, having traded ballet for aerial.” She fiddled with the strings on her hoodie. “I guess I figured since I didn’t want to conform to something more traditional, then I needed to be perfect at everything else.”
“Perfect at the things your mom would be proud of. Would brag about.” He got it now. “Grades. Scholarships. College.”
Rosalyn stopped in front of a pothole on the corner of Village Lane. “What do you think about this one? Studio apartment?”
He snorted. “I knew you’d be good at this.”
Cade watched as Rosalyn filled in the map. “So—that’s it? The whole story?”
Rosalyn glanced over her shoulder, then nodded, avoiding his eyes. “The important parts.”
He wondered. But she’d trusted him with this much of her story—if there was more, she’d tell him eventually. “Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help? You know, legally with your paperwork? Maybe Blaine isn’t familiar with how to get it dissolved quickly.”
Rosalyn quickly shook her head. “No, he’ll get it done. It’s just the international red tape.”
Convenient, but—he wouldn’t push his opinion.
He cleared his throat and pointed to the pothole to her right. “So, what do you think?”
Relief filled her eyes, and she tapped one finger on her chin and pretended to study the shallow divot. “Pup tent?”
“Nailed it.” He scribbled the words on the map, making sure his hand didn’t shake in front of her. Making sure the plan cooking in his mind wasn’t obvious.
Whether she wanted help or not, what was obvious was she needed it. And if she wasn’t going to confide in her parents, then the least he could do was check out the red flags waving in his Yale-educated subconscious about the legalities of it.
Secretly, of course. Because they’d finally seemed to find their way back to a fledgling friendship, and he wouldn’t screw it up again.
No matter how much he wanted more with her.