Chapter 5
Note to self:
Remember that your best friend can read you like a book,
and as a librarian, she’s really, really good at reading.
Next morning, I knocked on the library door a half hour before it opened, clutching a bag from our local bakery and two iced white chocolate coffees with whole milk because this was not the time to worry about calories and too much caffeine consumption.
The best part about working as a virtual assistant was the hours. The worst part about working as a virtual assistant was also the hours. I tended to start a project at the worst time (oh, say two in the morning after the adrenaline from extracurricular activities kept me from falling asleep) and get so wrapped up, stopping was an impossibility. Flash forward four hours later and I wake up to my cheek resting on the keyboard and fifty-seven pages of the letter X on my Word document.
Which is why it looks like I rolled right out of bed this morning. Because I did.
So. Yes. I needed the caffeine.
“Oh, you brought me presents.” Mae took the bag from me.
We made our way to her small office, which had recently been painted a sunny yellow. Her desk, like everything else about the library, was organized and neat. Several pictures were hanging on the corkboard above it. Mae with her mom and sister, Mae and Chris, Mae and me, all normal-sized photos. But crowding them were oversized photos, all featuring Chris—an action shot of him during a game, another of him posing shirtless while snuggling a puppy, another of him dressed in a suit that had clearly been tailored for him, and yet another of he and Mae kissing.
“When did you get a shrine to Chris?” I asked, pointing at the photos. “Not that I’m complaining.”
Football god and actual Eagle Scout. I was not coveting; I was appreciating.
“That was all his handiwork.” Mae slid into a chair at the small round table we often had meals at and peeked in the bag. “Uh-oh, chocolate croissants.”
Having been my person since the fifth grade, Mae knew everything there was to know about me, including what happened on the day of that accident. She also knew chocolate croissants were harbingers of bad news.
“First, the croissants, and second, you’ve not made a single comment about this scarf.” She set out a couple of napkins and placed a croissant on each before leaning back in her chair.
I hadn’t even noticed the scarf—a gauzy blue number roped around her neck, which stood out even more with her snarky librarian t-shirt (this one read, Don’t Make Me Shush You) and jeans.
I smirked. “Okay, Captain Obvious. You know, you can use make-up to cover it. Or be loud and proud. Your hot football player fiancé likes you a lot. Besides, who’s going to notice?”
“You think?” She pulled off the scarf and tossed it on the table.
Yikes. The hickey was even more pronounced today than it had been yesterday. I took an overlarge bite of my croissant and mumbled around it, “Yeah. You’re good.”
“Alright, enough about me. Tell me what’s going on.”
“So, the thing is…” But instead of talking, I fiddled with the hem of my t-shirt, then pulled my hair out of its ponytail and reworked it into a messy bun, and then took another huge bite of my croissant and chewed. Slowly.
Mae waited me out, eyeballing me over her iced coffee with concern.
Finally, I wiped my fingers off on my thighs. “Cal asked me to do something.”
“Does it involve anything illegal?”
“No.” Although I don’t think Cal would be opposed to me drugging and kidnapping Abe. I took a deep breath and told her what Cal asked.
He wanted me to swing by Colorado, surprise my brother, hug it out, and convince/force him to come to the wedding. Oh, and keep it all a secret from our parents.
No. Big. Deal. What could possibly go wrong?
I stuffed the rest of my croissant in my mouth and waited for Mae to say something.
“That’s…a lot.” She frowned. “But how would that work? Aren’t you riding out there with your parents?”
The transportation of the Ramos family to Oregon had become quite the ordeal. Mom had roughly seventy-three thousand “wedding things” to bring with her plus her father, my grandpa Mack, who refused to fly. Frankie could only take off a few days for the weekend, so he and his girlfriend, Ruth, were arriving on their own, and then there was me. I went wherever they told me. Which happened to be in the backseat of my parents’ car.
Or that’s what the plan had been.
I took a sip, the tang of the overly sweet coffee giving me a jolt. “Cal thought of that. Mom’s been panicking about fitting all the wedding crap and me and Dad and Mack in the same car. Then she wanted to take two cars, but Dad put his foot down.”
“How many centerpieces can one woman make?”
My mother had gone all out, put all her years of pent-up crafting to work after having given birth to a daughter who would rather eat live spiders than do things like needlepoint and quilling—whatever that is. Don’t get me wrong, I was creative, but not in the arts and crafts way. My creativity tended toward more colorful pursuits.
But Mom had made candles and origami flowers, name cards for the rehearsal dinner and the reception. And there was the wedding arch, which disassembled for easy transport.
“A lot, apparently.”
“Back to my original question, you’re not going to be able to ride with them. How are you getting there?”
“Well,” I cleared my throat, “Theo is driving out and, according to Cal, said I could go with him.” I pushed the second croissant I’d dug out of the bag aside and laid my cheek on the table. It was cool on my skin. If there was one subject that made me flush, it was Theo.
“Oh, really?”
“Don’t say it,” I muttered, closing my eyes so I couldn’t see her smirk.
“I bet he volunteered for that job. All those long, long hours in a car, only the two of you.”
I groaned. “We won’t even be alone for long. We’re picking up Mack in Amarillo.”
“What’s the big deal? You like hanging out with him.”
“Yes. It’s just…”
How do I explain I tried so hard to limit my time around Theo because I didn’t want to get too attached, too hopeful? He wasn’t interested in me like that, no matter what Mae thought. He’d made that clear years ago and we’d managed to find a way to get over the awkwardness and keep our friendship. It had taken years to make everyone forget Theo-besotted teenage Ali and her earnestness. It had taken years to (mostly) forget how banged up my heart got, too.
“Is it because of Al—er, the Spawn of Satan?” she asked hesitantly. “Do you still miss him?”
“Ugh. No.” I didn’t miss him. I missed the idea of having a person. I missed cuddling and laughing and kissing. But I didn’t miss Alec. He could go jump in a piranha-infested lake and die a slow, painful death.
It was going to be so great seeing him at the wedding, a real highlight of my summer. Obviously.
The honest truth was I was still hurt because of what Alec said when he broke up with me. How he labelled me as “emotionally unavailable” and “closed off” and said that I “deflected” when things got “real.” He went on to say I was “too set in my ways” and “unwilling to bend.” It was like he’d taken a crash course from Dr. Phil.
He wasn’t wrong about some of it.
When we graduated, he moved to Dallas for a job he landed; I headed back to Two Harts. We decided to keep dating despite the five-hour drive between us and our relationship being so new. For the first year or so, it seemed to work. He came to see me; I’d bribe someone to drive me there. We did it; we were one of those couples that could survive long-distance dating.
I actually bragged about this.
Until it became clear Alec was starting to get frustrated. He began to occasionally bring up the idea of me moving to Dallas. Wouldn’t it be great if we lived in the same city, like before? We could see each other all the time. Or, what if I started driving again? That would make things easier. But I had never told Alec the reason behind my fear of driving.
At first, the comments were small and infrequent, easy for me to brush off, to pretend the idea of either of those things didn’t make me nauseated. Then his questions got more direct and forceful. He wanted answers.
My dream had always been to live in Two Harts, raise a family here, give them the kind of idyllic, small-town childhood I’d had. I hated Dallas with its skyscrapers and traffic and fake country chic twist on everything. I tried to explain this to Alec, tried to make him understand. When the bitterness began to seep in, we ignored it. It was another two years of phone calls and text messages and trips to see each other, of sly comments and rolled eyes, of hurt feelings and misunderstandings. But I still stuck with it. At least I had a person, right?
Then one Saturday afternoon, he threw up all the feelings he’d been keeping inside. Looking back, Alec had done us a favor. I even respected him for it, for not trying to shield me from the truth like I was a delicate flower who couldn’t handle it. Like the way my parents insisted on treating me.
What I didn’t respect was how he’d broken up with me. Via text message.
He got to say all the things he wanted to say and then he blocked my number like the rotten coward he was. I hadn’t told anyone, including Mae, that. I couldn’t bear to say it out loud. Four years of my life and all I was worth to him was a long, ranty text message and the cost of postage to mail back the few things he had of mine.
“Maybe,” Mae said, interrupting my thoughts, “this is a chance to see how you feel about Theo and how he feels about you.”
“I don’t think I’m relationship material.” I picked at the flaky bits on my croissant, not meeting her eyes. “Maybe I’m too selfish.”
Mae’s lips thinned. “That doesn’t sound like the Ali I know. It sounds like something that gaslighting, insensitive, narcissistic jackass tried to make you believe.” Mae had never been a big fan of Alec. She scooted her chair next to mine and put an arm around my shoulders. “I’m worried about you.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I’m kind of worried about me, too.”
“It’s like Alec broke up with you and he took all your sunshine with him.” I put my head on her shoulder. “I hate him.”
That’s the kind of friendship we had; we showed our love with mutual hate. True loyalty.
My nose stung, but I sat up and flashed Mae a big smile. “Hey, I’m still a freaking ray of sunshine, what are you talking about?”
Mae’s return smile was small. “Yes, you are.”
“I like my life. It’s a great life.”
Arms crossed, she sat back in the chair. “Totally.”
“I love living in Two Harts. Most of my family is here.” I waved a hand in her direction. “You. Ellie. My life is full. So, I’ve been feeling a little…I don’t know, lost? But that will go away with time.”
Mae kept her silence, waiting me out.
“It feels like a lot of things are changing,” I blurted out. “I don’t know what that means for me exactly. Am I supposed to be making big life moves right now? Is it okay to live a quiet life in a quiet town?”
“There’s not a thing wrong with that. As long as that’s the life you want. I’m saying the Ali I’ve always known doesn’t do anything quietly.” Mae straightened, her expression thoughtful. “Maybe it’s time for change.”
“Like how?”
“That’s up to you, I guess. What do you want your life to look like?”
“Geez. Being engaged makes you get all deep,” I muttered.
I let her words sink in and quietly admitted to myself what I wanted my life to look like; one where fear didn’t hold me back. I fiddled with my cup of iced coffee, swiping at the condensation.
The library door flew open.
“Mae,” a man bellowed.
Mae’s eyes narrowed. “Peter.”
He barreled around the checkout counter and appeared in the doorway to Mae’s office. His eyes landed on me instantly. “Alicia Ramos.”
I turned extra slowly in my seat until I faced him, already knowing why he was looking for me. His face was flushed, and he was breathing hard, like he’d run all the way here. Beside me, Mae’s back went rigid, her arms across her chest as though she was prepared for battle—the consummate Mama Bear.
“You.” His fists curled at his sides like he wished there weren’t witnesses.
Excellent. I smiled widely.
“Garden gnomes,” Peter ground out. “Everywhere. All over.”
“Do you think you could try to talk in complete sentences?” Mae asked. “You’re not making any sense.”
He stabbed a finger in my direction. “She knows exactly what I mean. They’re all over my front lawn. And…and those gnomes are all placed in indecent positions. Indecent!”
“Indecent gnomes? I don’t know a thing about that.” I tapped my chin thoughtfully. “I did hear having benches and other lawn ornaments comes with a hefty fine from the city these days.”
“I don’t know how you did it,” he leaned closer, “but I know it was you.”
Blinking innocently, I pulled back to put more room in between us. I wasn’t like Mae, who could cut a person down to size with one sharp-tongued insult; my preferred method of dealing with people was to put them in their place more…creatively. The man in front of me had been on the receiving end of many, many, many of my revenge pranks. It was not my fault; if he’d quit acting like a giant jackass, I could stop.
Peter’s eyes seemed to bulge right out of his head, his face turning purple. He loomed over me, bracketing me in with his arms on the table. “You are the most annoying, childish, pathetic person I have ever met.”
Mae stood, her voice sharp. “That’s enough, Peter.”
He adjusted the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt. “I’m the mayor of this town. Remember that.”
With that, he stormed off. I turned back around in my chair. “Did you get the feeling he was angry?”
“Indecent gnomes?”
“Sounds like whoever thought of that is a genius.”
“Someone who needs to retire from her questionable activities.” Mae plopped in her seat.
“Then who would keep Peter on his toes? He has to have someone challenge him or he’ll claim he’s king and we are all merely his peasants, here to do his bidding.”
Mae’s eyes narrowed. “He does need someone to challenge him.”
“Yes, he does.” I took a huge bite of my second croissant, suddenly feeling ten times better than five minutes before.
Mae’s fingers began tapping on the counter. “You know what would be amazing? If someone finally ran against him in the mayoral race. The elections are this spring.”
Peter has run unopposed for his last two (and only) races. Like his father who’d been mayor before him and his grandfather before that. They had a monopoly on the Two Harts political scene.
I laughed. “I’d support anyone who ran against him. It could be an inanimate object, maybe one of those gnomes, and I’d still vote for it.”
Mae’s blue eyes fixed on me with intensity.
“You’re creeping me out.”
“Just thinking that person would need spunk to run against him.” She flicked a finger up. “Someone who loves this town.” Another finger. “Someone who Peter can’t intimidate.” Yet another finger. “Someone who has a strong sense of justice.” Suddenly, one long finger was pointed at me. “Someone like you.”
My mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding?”
“Not even a little.” She smirked. “Think how angry Peter would be.”
“You cannot be serious.”
Ignoring me, Mae pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen and began writing. “Oh, man. I would pay to see his face when he found out. I could be your campaign manager and we could make signs.” She paused and tapped the pen on her mouth, staring off into the distance.
I snapped my fingers in her face. “Mae. I am not running for mayor. People would laugh their heads off.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, they wouldn’t. They would absolutely support you. The more I think about this, the more I know you’d be amazing.”
“No.”
“We were just talking about how it’s time for a change.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of changing out the curtains in my living room or getting a new phone, not running for public office.” Agitated, I stood and dumped the other half of my croissant in the garbage can. “All I wanted to do was cry over chocolate croissants with my sensible, practical best friend. Instead, it appears she has lost her ever-lovin’ mind.”
Mae leaned back in her chair, unperturbed by my outburst. “I am in total control of my faculties, thank you very much, and I’m serious.”
“Whatever,” I mumbled and marched out of the office, around the counter and was almost to the door when it opened and Mrs. Katz, my now-retired sixth-grade teacher and, because he was never far behind her, Horace Otismeyer, former train conductor, breezed in. Mrs. Katz had scared the crap out of me when I was a kid, and it wasn’t much better now I was an adult. She had a brisk, no-nonsense way about her that tended to get under my skin. Probably because I prided myself on being as indirect as possible when it suited my needs.
I pasted on a smile and waved. “Hi, Mrs. Katz.”
“Alicia,” she said as she sailed past me, clearly on a mission.
I’d just pulled the door open when I heard her exclaim, “Maebell Sampson, is that a hickey on your neck?”