Chapter 10
10
“So when is the café opening?” Laurie asked, her elbows propped on the counter. Maggie had, on impulse, popped into Max’s Place to have a quick catchup with her friend and neighbor.
The last two weeks had been so busy she felt as if she was in constant motion. She, Ben, and Zach had been using every spare minute to get the café up and running—Maggie had worked on organizing the kitchen, Ben the games, and Zach had been the maintenance man. He’d suggested built-in shelves to line the walls for the games, and somewhat to Maggie’s amazement, had even offered to build them himself.
“You’re a man of hidden talents,” she’d told him as he’d spent several days setting up a workshop in the café area, sanding and sawing and generally looking very sexy and capable.
“I am indeed,” he’d replied with a rakish grin, his eyes glinting with humor. “I’ve picked up a good bit of woodworking through the store, and I actually found I liked it, more than I expected. It’ll be great to have a bigger project.”
Zach had been as good as his word and kept things very much friends-only, but Maggie still felt the undercurrents between them, like an electrical wire pulsing with every word either of them said. She watched him discreetly when he was working, and thought he probably noticed. Sometimes, with a thrill of wonder, she saw him doing the same thing, watching her . Their gaze often met, slid away, and met again. All of it made her tingle. She hadn’t felt this much physical awareness of another person since she’d started dating Matt.
Matt . She found herself thinking of him less, missing him less, and that made her feel both relieved and guilty. Surely she should still be mourning her husband, longing for him every day, after just a little over a year? It was, she knew, what her mother-in-law expected, demanded , after telling Maggie at the funeral, in icy tones, that she was “at least partially responsible” for Matt’s death.
“He’d been distracted by things between you,” her mother-in-law had insisted. “If you’d been a better wife…”
Maggie had not dignified that with an answer, but it had hurt her deeply. She should have been a better wife, she knew. But something she was starting to understand more and more now that he was gone was… Matt should have been a better husband.
And yet those kinds of thoughts were receding the more time she spent with Zach. Matt had retreated to the background of her mind, her memory, as she focused on the present… as well as the future. Zach, she thought, was both a friend and a welcome distraction… and what an appealing distraction he was.
“Next week,” she told Laurie now. “The first Saturday in March is the grand opening. I’m waiving the fee for booking tables for the day and offering a free coffee with every boardgame purchase.” Buying the boardgames was one of the ways she hoped the café would eventually turn a profit, along with the coffee and baked goods she’d ordered from The Rolling Pin, as a way to encourage another local business.
Eventually she hoped to offer a full menu of snacks and treats, but at the moment she relied on the Harpers at The Rolling Pin; they’d been friendly and welcoming when she’d worked up the nerve to stop in their bakery, and had seemed thrilled with the prospect of supplying Your Turn Next.
“Wow.” Laurie looked admiring. “It sounds like you have everything in hand.”
“It doesn’t feel that way to me,” Maggie confessed. “And it’s all taken a lot longer than Ben hoped, but at least it’s coming together.”
She was fortunate, Maggie knew, that at the moment, thanks to Matt’s life insurance and the sale of the house in Greenwich, money was not an issue for them… but she supposed it would be eventually. In the meantime, she wanted to make sure she paid it forward and made Your Turn Next as charitable an enterprise as she could.
“Are you excited?” Laurie asked. “I know what it’s like, working so hard and then the big day comes—it’s both wonderful and pretty nerve-racking. It almost feels surreal.”
“Yes, I can imagine that’s exactly how it will feel.” Maggie had definitely had a lot of nerves already. Most nights she lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as she thought about all she had to do and all the ways this venture could go so horribly wrong. “That’s it, exactly,” she told Laurie. “And there’s still so much to do before the big opening. I still have to learn how to foam milk and master latte art in Hartford this week, for a start!” She gave a grimacing little laugh. She was nervous about leaving Ben to go all the way to Hartford, but she knew she had to get it done if they wanted to offer café service. The food inspection was next week, and she had to have her certification before then, just to be able to offer lattes and espressos.
“You’ll be amazing at both,” Laurie reassured her. “What’s Ben doing for the day while you’re in Hartford? He’s welcome to come here, if he wants.”
“Oh, ah… he’s okay, actually,” Maggie replied, hedging a little, and blushing too, before she felt compelled to admit, “He and Zach are hanging out. Zach will be working in the café, anyway, finishing the shelves. They’ve got a whole day planned, apparently, of doing guy stuff and probably playing some RainQuest.”
“Do they?” Laurie’s eyes gleamed with this insider knowledge. Zach’s presence at the café hadn’t, Maggie knew, gone at all unnoticed by the residents of Starr’s Fall. It was hard for it not to be noticed, when he was right there in front of the window, sawing and hammering and working away most days. The shelves were really coming along nicely; Zach had been modest about his woodworking skills. He’d even whittled figures to decorate each joint of the shelves, including several characters from RainQuest that even Maggie had been able to recognize.
She hoped Ben’s presence kept the gossip mill from churning too relentlessly about Zach’s presence at the café, because she knew she wasn’t ready for people to start speculating about a relationship between her and Zach. Not that they even would; in fact, in some ways, a greater worry was that such a prospect was so ludicrous it wouldn’t even cross people’s minds.
“So, is anything going on between you and Zach?” Laurie asked, putting paid to the idea that people weren’t thinking about it, which filled Maggie with equal parts alarm and, damningly, pleasure. “Because, I have to say, he’s certainly spending a lot of time at your place.”
“He’s just helping out at the café,” Maggie replied quickly. “You know he’s into games. And I get the idea that he’s a little frustrated by what’s happening at the general store.” She hoped she wasn’t being disloyal by sharing that with Laurie; although Zach didn’t talk about it much, she could feel the frustration with his sister rolling off him in waves whenever the subject of the store came up. He’d usually quickly change the subject and Maggie let him, because heaven knew she wasn’t one for confrontation, but she felt it from him all the same.
“He is?” Laurie exclaimed, frowning. “I didn’t realize that. I’ve talked to Jenna about the store, but I have to say, I don’t know Zach in the same way. He always seems so laid-back, everyone kind of assumes he just rolls with whatever. And I suppose you know about his reputation with the ladies.”
“I know he’s dated a lot,” Maggie replied, unable to keep from sounding a little prim as she squirmed inwardly at the very mention of Zach’s romantic life. “But Zach and I don’t talk about that kind of stuff.” At least, not since that day in the café when he’d mentioned that you didn’t swipe right for the love of your life, a line that had stubbornly and inconveniently stuck in Maggie’s head. “And I think he does roll with whatever,” she added, realizing how true it was. Zach was practically the definition of laid-back… but that attitude, Maggie thought, took a certain kind of strength. “But even if he does,” she finished slowly, “that doesn’t mean things don’t bother him.”
Laurie’s smile turned impish. “Sounds like you’ve gotten to know him pretty well there,” she remarked.
“Not like that,” Maggie said quickly, and then blushed. “I mean… we’re just friends. Obviously.”
Laurie raised her eyebrows, clearly enjoying their exchange. “Obviously?”
“I’m ten years older than him,” Maggie explained a little stiffly. “It would be kind of ridiculous if something were going on.” Even if she thought about just that more than she wanted to admit or was comfortable with herself.
“Not that ridiculous,” Laurie protested, frowning. “I mean, Joshua is seven years older than me, and I don’t even think about it. Age is just a number.”
“Still…” Maggie protested. “It’s different when it’s the woman that’s older.”
“Now that’s just sexist,” Laurie replied, wagging her finger at Maggie. “There’s no reason why a woman can’t date a younger man. No reason at all.”
And be called a cougar? Maggie thought, shuddering inwardly at the thought. She really hoped the good people of Starr’s Fall weren’t saying such things about her. “Well, nothing is going on,” she replied firmly, “so the point is moot. And in any case, I’m not ready to date yet.”
Laurie’s laughing expression immediately dropped. “Of course not,” she murmured. “I understand. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you.”
“No, no, it’s fine.” Talking about bereavement always felt like pouring cold water over a conversation, Maggie acknowledged with an inward sigh. “I mean, I might think about dating one day. It’s just there’s a lot to focus on right now.”
“Of course. Although…” Laurie was back to looking playful. “Sometimes you don’t choose to fall in love. It chooses you.”
Love! Now that was something she wasn’t remotely ready to think about, and yet maybe, she realized with a lurch, Zach was, with somebody. You don’t swipe right for the love of your life suggested as much, surely. Admittedly, he’d said it in such an offhand way, but Maggie had still sensed a deeper emotion beneath the words. But if Mr. Extra Spicy was looking for Miss Right… she surely could not be that woman. Not with her history, her emotional baggage, and yes, her age.
“I really don’t think that’s what’s going on,” she told Laurie, shaken by the nature of her own thoughts. “But I am very grateful for his help.” She glanced around the cute little store; Laurie had set it up like a living room, with a cozy armchair, bookshelves to house the merchandise, and a coffee maker bubbling away. “I was thinking about finally taking your advice and adopting a cat from the Humane Society,” she told Laurie. “I don’t think we can manage a dog, and Ben has always wanted a cat, anyway. I wanted to ask you about it.”
“Oh, wonderful! Cats are great pets. I’ve got some leaflets here, to take you through the process of adoption.”
“Great.” Adopting a cat was the next step in her and Ben’s resettlement project, in terms of making Starr’s Fall their home. Maggie wasn’t quite ready for the responsibility of a dog, with walks and so forth, but she liked the idea of a purring cat curling up in a windowsill of the café, and she thought she could manage to feed and change its litter box, at least. Ben had promised to help.
“So you must be starting to feel settled,” Laurie told her as she handed her the leaflet. “If you’re thinking of getting a cat.”
“We’re getting there, certainly.” She and Ben had been in Starr’s Fall a month already, and it had flown by. Maggie had continued attending Pilates—with the often liquid lunch afterward—and she’d come to know Annie, Zoe, Liz, and Elaine a lot better and felt she could call them friends. She’d even gone over to Annie’s for dinner and met her mother Barb, who was lovely but clearly declining in health as she struggled with the later stages of Parkinson’s.
It had been heartbreaking to witness, but Maggie was glad she’d been able to have a conversation with Annie, commiserating about elderly parents and offering her support. She’d also stopped into The Rolling Pin on several occasions both to discuss including their business at the café and just for bagels. She’d enjoyed getting to know Lizzy and Michael Harper and their two children. She’d half-hoped that their fourteen-year-old daughter Bella might be a friend for Ben as she seemed to be interested in boardgames, but Ben had been adamant that he wasn’t interested in having some kind of high school social life, and Maggie knew, after everything that had happened, she couldn’t force it. It would come, she hoped, in time, with healing.
And then there was Zach. Zach, Maggie acknowledged, had been a much bigger part of her life than was either comfortable or wise… and yet, she’d come to depend on him. The other day he hadn’t stopped by the café, and she’d felt down and out of sorts all afternoon, without realizing why until Ben had remarked upon his absence. He was easy company, often laughing and light, always willing to pitch in and do whatever was needed, whether it was schlepping boxes or talking RQ with Ben. He’d stayed for dinner more than once after that first pizza, when Ben had absolutely monopolized his time, which Maggie hadn’t minded because she and Zach had had enough deep conversation already that day.
Two weeks on, they still hadn’t talked about romance or lack thereof, which was fine , because she really was enjoying them just being friends. And yet … Zach’s I like you had opened up a Pandora’s box of unwieldy emotions and Maggie was struggling to put the lid back on it. Just as she’d told Laurie, she really wasn’t ready for romance.
But maybe, Maggie acknowledged, she wanted to be… even if dating someone like Zach still didn’t make sense, for all the same reasons she hadn’t been able to articulate to him when he’d asked. They were still there—her age, her emotional baggage, Zach’s history, Ben…
Way too much to think about. To deal with.
“It takes a while to feel settled,” Laurie remarked sagely, drawing Maggie out of her uncomfortable thoughts. “To tell you the truth, I lived in Trenton for six years and I never felt settled there.”
“That’s how I was in Greenwich,” Maggie replied, only semi-jokingly. “And I lived there for twelve years.” She grimaced, acknowledging the semi-waste of those years… and yet they’d been the majority of her adult life, as well as her marriage. How depressing was that, to think of them as a waste? And they hadn’t been, not entirely anyway…
“What didn’t you like about Greenwich?” Laurie asked.
Maggie frowned, unsure how to articulate the complicated tangle of her thoughts on that subject. What hadn’t she liked about her life? To outsiders, it had certainly seemed pretty charmed. Matt had thought it was, and with good reason, really—what had there been to complain about, after all? She’d had a big, beautiful house, a handsome, accomplished husband, a wonderful son, no worries about money, no need to work, a generous handful of supposedly like-minded friends…
And yet it was many of those so-called blessings that had made her start, guiltily, to resent her life behind the glowing, golden bars of what had felt, in time, like a gilded prison. And then there had been Matt… Matt, reveling in their new, blingy life, insisting she get on board in a thousand subtle and not-so-subtle ways that had made her feel farther from him than ever…
No. She didn’t want to think like that. She couldn’t let herself, because it opened the floodgates to too much guilt and regret. And she could hardly explain how her privileged life had felt like a prison to Laurie, whom she knew already from their conversations had had a difficult childhood in foster care and then the challenge of trying to make it on her own as an adult.
“It just felt empty,” she finally said, feeling wretched for admitting that much. “Kind of… soulless.” Which was a rather scathing indictment not just about her life, but her marriage. She looked away, wishing she hadn’t said so much, or even anything at all.
“It’s hard when life disappoints us,” Laurie said after a moment, her tone quiet and a little sad. She had a look on her face that made Maggie think she was thinking of something in particular, maybe even something recent, rather than the sorrows of her childhood.
“Has life disappointed you recently?” she asked, and then worried the question was far too intrusive. She hardly wanted Laurie asking it back! “Sorry, that’s not something I should ask,” she added hurriedly.
“No, it’s okay.” Laurie hesitated, her gaze on the jar of dog treats she’d been restocking. “Yes,” she finally answered. “Life has, actually. I… I moved to Starr’s Fall to look for my birth mom. I mean, I wanted to open this place, of course, but the reason I chose Starr’s Fall was because my biological mother put it on my birth certificate as where she was from. And I mean, I knew she’d probably moved on a long time ago, and I wasn’t going to bump her into the street or anything, but… I was hoping for some clues , at least, and…” She grimaced good-naturedly. “In the back of my mind, let’s be real, I was imagining some rose-tinted reunion, with hugs and tears and a selfie for social media.” She laughed, or tried to, before subsiding into silence.
“And that didn’t happen,” Maggie guessed quietly, her heart aching for Laurie.
“Well, yes and no,” Laurie admitted on a sigh. “I did find out who she was. And she did end up contacting me after I’d messaged her online, which thrilled me at first… but it was only to demand I never attempt to contact her again. She even offered me money to stay away from her forever. Talk about serious.” Laurie tried for a smile, but Maggie could see from her pain-shadowed eyes and the tremble of her lips how much it still hurt. “So, to be honest, all that kind of sucked,” she finished flatly.
“I’m so sorry.” Maggie didn’t know what else she could say. “That totally sucks,” she said with feeling, and Laurie let out a huff of laughter.
“Yeah. Totally. But…” She hesitated, glancing uncertainly at Maggie before continuing. “I don’t know exactly where you’re coming from. I mean, losing your husband… it’s got to be so hard. But maybe part of that being hard is that it’s complicated?” She stopped, a question in her eyes before continuing. “Sorry if I’m way out of line, but if that is the case… well, I want to say I get it. Sort of, anyway. My relationship with my mother—or lack of it—might seem like an open-and-shut case, but it’s never that simple, is it? The truth is, if she emailed me tomorrow, I’d go see her again, in a second . I’d try for that relationship, even if everyone was telling me it wasn’t worth it, protect yourself, blah, blah, blah. Because when it comes down to it… she’s my mom . And the important people in your life… well, sometimes it’s all kind of tangled up, isn’t it? As much as you love them, or want to love them… it can be hard.” She trailed off, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I was probably projecting a lot of emotional baggage onto you that you absolutely don’t have. It’s just… so many people see it as open-and-shut, you know? Even Joshua. Like, ‘Your mom abandoned you? Well, good riddance.’ And… that’s not how I feel, even if sometimes I wish it was.” She let out a trembling laugh as she brushed at her eyes. “Sorry. I’ve really offloaded onto you.”
“No, don’t be sorry. I don’t mind.” Maggie was grateful for Laurie’s honesty, and unsettled by her perceptiveness at just how complicated everything had been.
She felt as if Laurie had looked right through her, straight into her soul, dark and guilt-ridden place that that was. Laurie had managed to articulate exactly how Maggie was feeling… the confusing mix of grief and guilt, the sweep of devastating loss and the faintest flicker of treacherous relief that she could hardly bear to think about. She hadn’t said as much about any of it to anyone, and it was both gratifying and horrifying that Laurie, who barely knew her, had guessed. Was she that transparent? How awful… and yet how weirdly freeing.
“I…” she began, and then, shaking her head, found she couldn’t continue.
“Sorry, I think I’ve probably said too much.” Laurie bit her lip, apologetic. “I don’t think sometimes?—”
“No, no.” Maggie took a deep breath. “You’re right. It was complicated. And something that’s been so hard to admit, even to myself, is that…” She paused, and then made herself continue. “Matt and I weren’t doing all that well as a couple before he died. We weren’t talking divorce or anything like that, and I don’t think we ever would have, but… we’d gone in really different directions over the last few years, and that was something we were just both coming to realize when he died.” She paused, picturing the way Matt looked at her, his eyes narrowed, his lips pursed, like she wasn’t quite coming up to scratch. The suffocating sense of pressure she’d felt, to be what he wanted her to be, all the while kicking against it in passive-aggressive ways. It had been a miserable and even toxic combination.
“He’d got a big promotion a couple of years back,” she explained to Laurie, “and he was all about the ambition, the house, the car, the country club, and I… I wasn’t. I mean, I tried to be, for his sake, but I never really managed it.” And his disappointment had felt like a weight she staggered under. When he’d died, she hadn’t known how much longer she could have kept going, not being the kind of wife he wanted. But she wasn’t ready to admit all that to Laurie right now.
“I think all relationships are complicated,” Laurie told her with a wry smile, and then her eyes lit up as she nodded toward the door. “Speaking of…” she murmured before calling out gaily, “Henrietta! It’s so nice to see you!”
An elderly woman, dressed immaculately in an admittedly slightly motheaten tweed skirt and jacket, a silk blouse knotted in a bow at her throat, was coming gingerly into the pet store with the help of a cane.
Laurie hurried to open the door for her. “Maggie, have you met Miss Henrietta Starr yet? Resident matriarch of Starr’s Fall.”
“No, I haven’t had the pleasure yet.” Maggie gave the older woman a friendly smile and was subjected to a beady stare back.
“You’ve moved here with your son?” she surmised. “I heard you were a widow.”
Startled, Maggie nodded. “Yes. I was widowed a little over a year ago.”
“Well, I’m sorry for your loss,” Henrietta replied as she moved into the store and sat down in the armchair like a queen sitting upon her throne. “Having never been married, I cannot imagine what it feels like to be a widow.” She sniffed. “But grief is grief, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, even as it comes to all of us eventually.” She gave a short sigh, having finished making this pronouncement. “How are you finding Starr’s Fall?”
“Good, so far,” Maggie replied cautiously. She had the feeling of needing to pass muster with the town’s matriarch, and Henrietta Starr looked like she wasn’t easily impressed. “But it’s been an adjustment. Have you lived here all your life?”
“Save for two unfortunate years in New York City,” Henrietta replied. Her gaze moved to Laurie, whom Maggie saw smile at her in sympathy. Clearly there was a story there that Laurie knew, but she wasn’t about to ask now. “And this business of yours?” Henrietta barked, her beady gaze moving back to Maggie. “A boardgame café? I’ve never heard of such a thing.” She gave another little sniff. “But I am partial to a game of Scrabble, as long as I’m playing someone who is actually competent at the game.”
“We’ll have Scrabble,” Maggie promised her. “As for proficient players…” She smiled ruefully. “I’m sure we can find someone who is up to speed.”
“We’ll see.” Henrietta sounded doubtful. She turned back to Laurie. “Now, onto important business,” she declared. “Is there any coffee?”
Laughing, Laurie assured her there was and went to get a cup. As she left, Henrietta turned to Maggie once more.
“Don’t worry, my dear,” she said gently. “It will get better. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, but it does make a difference.” She gave her a kindly smile, her face crinkling even more into a mass of wrinkles, her blue eyes twinkling, and gratified and touched, Maggie smiled back. She’d been grateful for her conversation with Laurie, and she realized she was also grateful for meeting the imposing Henrietta Starr. She felt a lightness to her spirit, for having shared with Laurie something of the difficulties she’d had in her marriage. And while she hadn’t shared every difficult and painful thing she’d experienced, she’d admitted something of the truth, and that was, surprisingly, a good feeling.
Even better was the feeling, the belief, that she’d made a true friend… maybe even two.