Chapter 7
“So I hear you have a new employee.”
Maggie West arched an eyebrow as she waited for Zoe’s reply. She’d come into The Latest Scoop for a strawberry smoothie and, it seemed, the latest scoop of Starr’s Fall gossip.
“Indeed I do,” Zoe replied with cheerful breeziness.
She’d lived in Starr’s Fall for pretty much her whole life, and she knew how word got around…
like wildfire. It was one of the reasons why her parents had chosen to be so private about their own conditions, especially as some of their own generation had moved on, and the younger one had more or less forgotten them.
At least, that was what it felt like. In truth, some of the people she’d grown up with—Jenna and Annie and a few others—did ask about her parents, and Zoe usually brushed them off.
It was easier that way, and she didn’t want any pity.
As for the newer residents of Starr’s Fall, like Maggie or Laurie…
she didn’t mention her parents at all. “As of three days ago, anyway,” she clarified as she tossed some strawberries into the blender.
Sophie had worked three four-hour shifts so far, and she’d improved with each one, although she still required a fair amount of supervision.
She also alternated between being shyly helpful and sullenly moody, which Zoe found kind of exhausting, but she was doing her best to keep up her spirits—and Sophie’s, because it did feel worth it—for both of them.
Yesterday she’d taught her how to scoop the ice cream and use the cash register, skills that seemed simplistic but actually, Zoe found, required a certain efficiency as well as flare.
During the slower hours, she’d then let Sophie manage the counter while she’d focused on other jobs—paying bills, cleaning the kitchen area, and most importantly, making the ice cream itself, which she did in several industrial machines down in the basement.
Sophie had asked when she’d be able to man the machines, and Zoe had told her “soon” without clarifying what that might mean.
She wasn’t yet ready to trust her entire product to a temperamental fourteen-year-old.
“I’m glad you have some help in here,” Maggie told her. “And for Sophie’s sake, too. Based on what Dan’s said, I gather they’ve both had a rough time of it.”
“Have they?” Zoe ignored the entirely absurd prickle of jealousy Maggie’s sharing had caused her.
First of all, Maggie was engaged to Zach, and second, Zoe had no claim on or interest in Dan Bryson.
So it didn’t matter that her friend seemed to know more about him than she did.
Although, she recalled, Dan had said something similar to her.
Maybe she should have asked him more about it. If she’d stayed for that drink…
“We had a bit of an incident at The Starr Light,” Maggie explained. “Zach was telling me about Sophie shoplifting, and we didn’t realize she was in the next booth and overheard the whole thing.”
Zoe winced as she imagined Sophie’s reaction. “Ouch.”
“Exactly,” Maggie agreed on a sigh. “She ran right out of the diner. We felt so badly about it.”
And ran home, where she’d seen her sitting on the steps, Zoe surmised. No wonder Sophie had been in such a foul mood.
“We got talking to Dan,” Maggie continued, “and how he’s moved here for a new start after he and Sophie’s mother got divorced. He didn’t say much more than that, but it certainly sounded difficult.”
So he was single, Zoe thought with a flare of satisfaction that she immediately quashed.
Divorced dad, difficult daughter? No way could she tangle herself up in that train wreck.
And yet, by hiring Sophie, maybe she already had.
And maybe, Zoe reflected, she should feel more alarmed about that than she did, but the truth was, she was hoping to see Dan again, and soon.
“Anyway,” Maggie finished, “I’ve invited Dan and Sophie to dinner tomorrow night, and I thought you could come along, too, since there’s already a connection, with Sophie working for you. What do you think?”
Zoe stared at Maggie, whose eyebrows were lifted, her mouth curved in a small, expectant, and, Zoe feared, knowing smile.
What did she think? The prospect of having dinner with a loved-up Zach and Maggie, and then Ben and Sophie no doubt being awkwardly pushed together as the two token teenagers, which left her and Dan as the last and inevitable pairing… yikes.
Even though she’d been hoping to see Dan again, she knew she was not up for that…
and yet just the thought of it gave her a little kick of excitement she was finding difficult to ignore.
“Thanks for the invitation—” she began diplomatically, before starting the blender as a way to avoid saying anything more, as much as needing to make the smoothie.
She did appreciate the invitation and despite the obvious awkwardnesses, she was alarmingly tempted to accept it.
But as ever she worried about her parents, even though she knew her dad would insist they’d be fine.
And maybe they would be, because her dad might be a little breathless and tired, but he could still manage.
Mostly. Maybe, Zoe reflected, she should believe him once in a while.
And yet just the thought of doing so had her stomach swooping with nerves.
“Well?” Maggie asked when Zoe pressed stop on the blender.
She opened her mouth to tell Maggie how sorry she was she wouldn’t be able to make it and heard herself say something different.
“That sounds great.” She blinked, surprised by the sound of her own voice.
It didn’t sound great. It sounded awkward and uncomfortable and tense. And yet… somehow she’d agreed.
Maggie smiled, looking as surprised as Zoe felt. “Great!” she enthused after a brief, startled pause. “Shall we say seven?”
Seven, Zoe thought, and she could still be home by nine.
She’d make it quick, and her parents could certainly manage on their own for two hours.
She left them alone every month for the business association meeting, and a few other times besides, when she took the risk of going out; she could do this, too, and maybe, maybe it would be fun.
Either that or excruciating.
“Sounds perfect,” she told Maggie and tried to ignore the flutter of nerves in her belly at the thought of leaving her parents—and seeing Dan Bryson again.
* * *
Just a little more than twenty-four hours later, Zoe was studying her reflection in her mirror, hoping she didn’t look like she was trying too hard.
She’d paired a linen dress that basically looked like a purple paper bag with a chunky leather belt cinched in at the waist and, as ever, her trusty Dr. Martens.
She didn’t usually wear dresses, but she’d felt like a bright pop of color, and her usual ripped jeans and grungy t-shirts didn’t seem like the right look for dinner with a bunch of people who were either teenagers or middle-aged.
But, she reflected, what she really didn’t want was everyone commenting on how nice she looked, or how a dress was so different for her, which, Zoe suspected, they would inevitably do.
They would probably make a few teasing remarks about who she wanted to impress while she was at it, which would be seriously embarrassing and just about the last thing Zoe wanted.
She was just about to take it all off and put on her usual combo of ripped jeans and a t-shirt when the doorbell rang, a very unexpected occurrence at her home, especially in the evening.
Over the years, as her parents had retreated further into ill health, casual visitors, the odd friendly hello from a concerned neighbor or friend, had tailed off almost completely, and in truth Zoe hadn’t encouraged visitors.
Her mother was pretty much housebound now, her father not that much better, and she knew neither of them wanted people to see them the way they were now.
“Zoe…” her father called, sounding concerned. “Sweetheart… do you mind… can you get the door?”
“Coming.” She glanced at her reflection once more, ran her hand through her short pink hair, and then hurried downstairs.
* * *
Dan didn’t know if this was a good idea.
Sophie was in one of her moods because of the approaching awkwardness of socializing with a boy her age she didn’t know, and Dan wasn’t sure adding another person to the mix would help, although Sophie had seemed to take a shine to Zoe since she’d started working there.
He’d been meaning to stop by and thank Zoe for giving Sophie a chance, but after the awkwardness of having asked her for a drink and having her nicely but swiftly refuse, he’d kept putting it off.
But when Maggie had told him she’d invited Zoe to dinner as well, it had seemed practically churlish not to see if she’d like to walk over to Maggie’s together. They were next-door neighbors, after all.
Now that he was standing on the doorstep wearing a button-down shirt and carrying a bottle of wine, however, he felt a little vulnerable. Like he was asking her out on a date when he really wasn’t. He barely knew her, after all, even if he’d been thinking about her. A lot.
“She’s probably not home,” Sophie said from where she was standing on the sidewalk, her arms folded, her face formed into a scowl. “Maybe she went right from The Latest Scoop to the boardgame café.”
“Maybe,” Dan agreed. “I just thought it was worth checking.” He’d started to turn away from the door when it was thrown open with some force, and Zoe stood there, looking hassled and not very pleased to see him.
She was wearing a vivid purple dress and black Dr. Marten boots, her hair in ruffled pink spikes about her flushed face, her hazel eyes wide with surprise at the sight of him standing there.
“Hi.” She sounded guarded, and inwardly Dan cringed.
“Hi.” He forced a smile. “We were wondering if you wanted to walk over to Maggie’s with us.” He paused, waiting for her to reply, but she didn’t say anything. “You are going…?”