20. Mandy
Maren may not be perfect, but I’ll give her this. The diva knows how to clear a room.
And now that Amanda and Emery and Maren are finally out of my hair, not badgering me with questions and making me relive my past, I actually miss them.
It’s late enough in the morning that I’m starting to wonder where the heck Tommy is. He said he’d be back this morning to sign the papers. He said I’d see him soon. Abigail has already worked her magic and sent me a file with the papers I asked her to draw up. I print them off.
It’s ten forty-four, and he’s still not here.
I call the retreat, but everything is miraculously in order there. Our general manager actually has the audacity to act annoyed with me when I start asking about booking numbers going into the holidays. Once I hang up, I decide it’s good that he’s not here. It gives me time to catch up on things around the house.
I wipe the counters, even though they don’t need it.
I sweep the kitchen floor, which Jed keeps quite clean already.
I even scrub the toilet, because now that Helen has been here, it’s actually been used. So, you know. That’s a relief. Can’t have things getting yucky.
I’m washing my hands when there’s finally a knock at the door. It could be UPS, needing a signature, or Helen, who has again lost her key, or any number of other people, but for some reason, I’m positive that this time, it’s not.
This time, my racing heart is sure that it’s Tommy.
I check to make sure the paperwork is sitting on the coffee table in a perfect stack, just as I knew it would be. There’s even a pen lined up right next to it. If I stick to the plan, he can be in and out in under thirty minutes, even with an appropriate amount of meaningless small talk.
So why are my hands shaking as I swing the door open?
Why does my heart leap inside of my chest when I see him standing on my porch, holding a bouquet of flowers—bright, beautiful Indian Paintbrush mixed with purple coneflowers. He’s wearing khakis and a button-down shirt—much nicer than anything he wore when we were kids, but a combination I saw a lot when I stayed with him. His hair’s neatly brushed, and his bright, clear eyes are trained directly on my face.
“Good morning,” he says.
“It’s nearly afternoon.” I open the door a little wider. “You made me wait.” I might be more annoyed than I wanted to admit.
“I thought you might be busy,” he says. “I’ve been walking up and down Main Street, trying to give you however much time you might need.”
I laugh first, but it’s a near thing.
He’s shaking his head. “I should’ve known you’d still be an early riser, even now.”
I shrug. “Anyone out here, born and raised, will rise with the dawn.”
“I may not have been born here,” Tommy says, “and I know we weren’t born on the same day, but I’ve never been one for sleeping in, either.”
I wave him through and take the flowers, careful not to let our fingertips brush. “You didn’t need to bring these,” I say. “We already agreed on terms, and I have the papers here, ready to be signed.”
“Terms?” Tommy frowns. “Oh, right.”
“You do still want to sell, right?” I step back. “Or, now that you’re here. . .”
“Now that I’m here, what?” He walks past me, but his eyes never leave my face. “Am I having second thoughts?”
“I know your dad died here,” I say. “And I know you were forced to leave by your mother.”
He shrugs. “I could have come back, but there wasn’t anything for me here.”
That stings a little, but I know he doesn’t mean it as a slight.
“Are you hungry? Maybe it’s all the walking, but I feel like I could eat a whole cow right now.”
“Oh.” I think about my pantry. “I have some soup or. . .”
“Let’s go out and eat. Do you have enough time to do that?” He’s looking at me so intently that it’s a little unnerving.
“Sure,” I say. “I mean, yes. Let’s go.” I grab my jacket and turn toward the door. “The Gorge Reel and Grill is open now, or?—”
“That sounds fine,” he says.
“I can bring the papers,” I say belatedly. “Hold on. Let me grab them.”
He shakes his head. “No rush. I can sign after we eat.”
It’s not wrong. It’s just weird. “I guess so.” By the time I finish locking up, Jed’s morose face pressed against the glass pane in the frame around the door, Tommy’s already walking toward his rental car.
“Wait up,” I say.
On the way there, he tells me about his flight over, apparently not a very smooth experience. Between the chatty tween obsessed with Taylor Swift sitting next to him for the first leg of the trip and the angry gay man complaining about the baggage fees for the second, he didn’t even need to tell me about the guy who spilled soup all down his pants. He’d already earned my sympathy.
“You’d think you would have been in a terrible mood yesterday,” I say. “I’m sorry it was such an ordeal to get here.”
“I kept the prize in sight.” He’s pulling into a spot in front of the Gorge, but when he cuts the engine, his face turns toward mine, and I realize. . .
Is he talking about me? Am I the prize?
Surely not.
“All right, we’re here.” He opens his door and climbs out.
I have to scramble to catch up.
“You’ll have to tell me the best thing on the menu,” he says as we walk inside. “Although to be honest, I’m unlikely to be very picky right now.”
“Still hate mustard?” I arch one eyebrow. “Or have you finally seen the light?”
He shudders. “You’re still delusional, I see.”
“Miss Saddler,” Jasper says. “You want the corner like always?”
I’ve been doing a few too many meetings in here lately, but their coffee’s the only local brew I like. “Sure.”
The second Jasper’s gone, Tommy tilts his head. “Miss Saddler, huh? You weren’t kidding before.”
“Kidding?” I frown. “About what?”
“You never changed your name to Brooks.” Tommy’s rubbing his hand along his jaw, the tiny hairs on his chin rasping as he does.
My blood runs cold, realizing how close I am to being outed by a random waiter in a grill. All it would take is one question by Tommy in front of Jasper about why I didn’t take my husband’s name. Everyone in this town has been gossiping about me for years. They all know I’ve never been married. If Tommy had kept up with even a single person from here, he’d already know too.
Jasper has returned, blessedly handing me a cup of coffee without my asking. “And what can I bring for you to drink, sir?”
“I’ll have a water, please. Because coffee at lunch?” Tommy’s frowning. “I can’t imagine that’s very healthy.”
“I’m not really supposed to give it to her,” Jasper says with a wink. “But since she didn’t have any for breakfast. . .” He shrugs. “Her doctor said one cup a day, and she usually sticks to it.”
“Your doctor?” Tommy looks alarmed now, his hand crushing a napkin into a wad. “What kind of doctor?”
“Her cardiologist, I think,” Jasper says.
“I forgot how you hate tips,” I mutter.
Jasper pretends to zip his mouth closed and walks off.
But it’s too late. I can already tell that Tommy’s not going to let this go. “I had one small cardiac event, and it was resolved. I had not one, but two procedures to deal with the problem, and they’re monitoring it now. Everything has been cleared out, and I’m fine.” I pat my chest. “Fit as a fiddle.”
“Pardon my doubts, but I’ve seen plenty of fiddles that didn’t look fit at all,” Tommy says.
Before I can argue, he’s reaches over and snatches my coffee mug right out of my hands. “Let’s switch drinks. My doctor’s a quack who keeps going on and on about fish oil, but so far I’ve had not a single problem with my ticker. So I’m going to step in here and help you out.”
He’s not prepared for me to yank the mug back, so I manage to take it back as simply as he stole it in the first place. “Don’t get between me and my caffeine,” I say. “Not if you value your fish-oiled life.”
He laughs. “I didn’t say I actually take any of it.”
“That’s a relief. It’s a gateway drug. Before too long, they’ll have you taking collagen, and then multi-vitamins. It’s all downhill from there.”
Tommy rolls his eyes, but I can tell he still gets my sense of humor. Just like when I went out to stay with him, we slide back into the same easy, comfortable relationship we had back in high school.
It’s funny how everything can change in sixty years. . .except the things that really matter. Those don’t even shift. After we eat, he wants to go for a walk. “You didn’t get enough walking around this morning?”
He shrugs. “I did a lot of reminiscing, and I guess I want to reminisce with you a little.”
“That sounds a little cryptic to me,” I say, but when he stands, I do too. Instead of forcing him toward his rental car, I amble along beside him.
Main Street has changed a lot in the intervening years. I wonder how it would feel for me, if I left and only now returned. It’s not so much that it’s bigger, but it’s definitely more modern. We still had tie posts for horses back in the sixties, for heaven’s sake. They were mostly a relic of an earlier time, but they were still there. Now the streets are littered with cars. Shiny ones, bikes, scooters, and even the occasional motorcycle. The antique tie posts have been replaced with chrome bike racks.
“The school looks the same,” he says. “And the general store hasn’t changed much. Neither has the diner.”
“The best things haven’t changed,” I joke.
“But you have changed in some ways,” he says. “I think those women and their kids have softened you.”
“Amanda,” I say. “And Abigail.”
“You must have been devastated before they came back to live here.” His voice is quiet. “You’d lost Jed. You’d lost everything.”
Right. Jed. I lost my husband of decades. I sigh heavily, wishing I hadn’t made up that story to begin with, but if I hadn’t, he’d have come out here and told Jed I was in love with him. I couldn’t stomach the idea of him coming out for that, and a lie felt easier than telling Tommy or Jed how I felt.
I should tell him the truth now, though.
I know I should, but when I open my mouth to say that I was never married to Jed, my hands tremble. I run through what I’ll say in my mind as we walk. First, I’ll tell him that I didn’t want to force him to come back. I didn’t want him to be stressed about me, either. Then I’ll explain that when Jed died, it was just the loss of an estranged neighbor. Nothing more.
But I can’t do it. Tommy’s eyes are so bright, his expression so fond. He’s been reminiscing about a life I never had. He’s come to see an old friend he doesn’t know at all. Some things don’t change. He’s right about that.
Apparently, once a coward, always a coward.
“Mandy?” Dolores is watering her plants outside her strange little house, like usual. She must have dragged them inside when it snowed, and now they’re back out because the sun is here. The bright spots of fall color are actually pretty nice.
I raise my hand to wave.
“Who’s that with you?” She squints. “Is that. . .” Her jaw drops.
“Wait, little Dolores Gibbens?” Tommy asks. “Is that really you?”
“It’s Dolores Jenkins now,” she says. “Tommy, right? Tommy Collins, director of champions. I never thought I’d see you again in this sleepy little town. You were always destined for great things.”
“I suppose I’ll be a big disappointment then,” Tommy says. “I lived a quiet life, just not here in this particular small town.”
“Well, we missed your shining personality for all these years.” Her hose has been spraying on the same pot full of mums for nearly a minute now, and the water’s pooling and running over the side, taking a lot of potting soil with it. I could tell her, but I’m having too much fun watching her swoon over Tommy. “You sure aged well.” She’s eyeing him up and down like Jed the pig looks at a Thanksgiving turkey.
Tommy nods, trying to come up with something nice to say about her, I suspect. Poor Dolores looks a little unhinged, with her knit sweater, crocheted fingerless gloves, and a weird sort of open-topped hat, white hair careening out and down her back in all directions like the feathers of a cockatoo.
“Well, if you’re in town for a while, I’d love to get together and catch up,” Dolores says.
Which is funny, because she was years and years behind us in school. It’s an obvious ploy to snag a date. I can’t help a snort.
“Or, maybe not,” Dolores says. “You’re clearly busy already with Mandy.”
“He’s not,” I say. “I don’t know how long he’ll be around, but he won’t be busy with me. He just has to sign a few papers and our business will be done.”
“Ah, yes, Amanda Saddler, real estate mogul,” Dolores says. “While I’ve crocheted and gardened, Amanda has been busy, buying up everything that goes up for sale in a hundred miles.”
“You don’t say,” Tommy says. “I’m not sure I knew that.”
“Oh, yes,” Dolores says. “She’s the richest woman around here.”
“Really?” Tommy lifts his eyebrows. “A widow of means. Perhaps that’s why she’s been too busy to even call me lately.”
Dolores frowns and I realize that I have to shut this conversation down.
“Well, we better get going.”
“It has been a very long time,” Tommy says, “but I’m happy to have a bit of her time now, given how busy she is.”
“Busy?” Dolores asks. “Do you mean with her resort? She just started that?—”
This conversation is a ticking time bomb.
“I have a meeting later, actually. We should get going.” I drop one hand on Tommy’s elbow. “I’m sure you two can find a time to chat very soon.”
Dolores might even be a great match for Tommy. He said he was pretty lonely now that his wife has passed. If Dolores wouldn’t be sure to tell him all about Jed and my real past, I’d almost consider setting them up, but as it is. . . I steer him back toward the Gorge Grill and practically shove him at his car. That’s two near misses in less than two hours.
I need to get these papers signed and send Tommy Collins packing, or he’s going to find out just how pathetic I really am.
But when we get back to my place where the papers are waiting, there’s another car parked in the drive. Lately my house feels like the parking lot of the True Value.
I prepare myself, because I know Amanda’s not going to be happy with a handshake and a brush off. She’s going to hang around until she’s made a complete nuisance of herself, and if I’m not very careful, she’ll slip and spill my lie. Probably not intentionally, but I wouldn’t put it past her to tell him as payback.
She’s still angry about the whole pretending-I-was-dead thing, and she knows I was with Tommy while she thought I was gone. Sometimes, when she gets upset, her rational thought just goes AWOL.
“Uh, it looks like my—Amanda Brooks, er, Dutton is here.”
Tommy’s smile is broad. “I’m excited to meet her. Anyone you’re willing to fake your own death to set on the right track must be an amazing person.”
“It did get her head back on straight,” I say. “Although, my idea might have been a bit extreme.”
Tommy laughs. “You really haven’t changed in sixty years. If there was ever a person I knew who would fake her own death so that her loved ones would live a happy life, it’s you.”
I’m not sure that I like how he’s implying that fooling others is some crucial part of my character, but it bodes well that he doesn’t find it despicable. Just in case he does find out the truth. “Well, brace for impact. Amanda is a lot.”
“All the best women are.”
But when we climb out of the car, it’s not Amanda who hops out of her BMW SUV.
It’s Maren. “I want to live with you.” She folds her arms and huffs.
“Maren,” I say. “Does your mother know you have her car and skipped out on school?”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, she took mine to get an oil change, supposedly, but I think she just took it so I’d be stuck. Well, joke’s on her. I walked home and found her keys.” Her nostrils flare. “Any way to control me, she’ll take.” She shakes her head. “I can’t handle her anymore.”
“You did just sue her,” I point out. “She might be justified in being a little irritated with you.”
She throws her hands up in the air. “She won’t let me record an album, and not because I’m a bad kid. Because my stupid stepdad’s an alcoholic!”
I don’t think I’m brave enough to tell Amanda, but I almost agree with Maren. “She’s blocking you from doing that because she loves you, though. Plenty of kids have it much worse.”
“Do you know the attention span of TikTok?” Maren starts pacing, and as if the wind is on her side, it’s whipping her ponytail up into the air. “I have, maybe, another month before they forget about me, and then it’s game over.” She shakes her head. “If I don’t get this album recorded soon, I may never have another chance.”
“Well, your parents are fairly well known,” I say, “and?—”
“My parents are ancient,” Maren says, “and they’re pushing their stuff off on me.” She’s still shaking her head. “You have to help me. You’re the only one they listen to.”
“Abigail might be a better?—”
“Aunt Abby’s worse than they are!” Maren’s shouting now. “She’s the one who moved the whole thing to Utah.” She says the state name like she would say poopy diaper. “Mom probably got the whole idea from her. She wanted to force her own son to go to college when he didn’t want to, just so she wouldn’t be embarrassed. They don’t get it. Life is short, and you have to do what you want to do now. They think they can make us like them, but they can’t. We have to be who we are.”
“I mean, life isn’t really that short,” I can’t help saying. “Look at me. I’ve been around forever.”
“Speak for yourself,” Tommy says. “I’m eighty-two years young.”
“But that’s why you lied to Mom, right? Because she needed to live her life, just like me.”
She does have a point there.
“Actually,” Tommy says, “that’s why I’m here, too.”
“What?” Maren, sensing another possible ally, turns to face him. When her eyes widen and her jaw drops, I realize that she may not have even noticed he was here. She’s not usually quite this self-centered, but she does have a lot going on. “Whoa, you must be Tommy!” Her mouth makes a tiny o. “You’re the guy Mandy liked who moved away and never came back.” She whistles. “So now it’s time for you to seize the day, too.” She steps a little closer. “Let’s do it together. You start dating Mandy, and I’ll record my album.”
I’m going to strangle her. “Maren Brooks, you will get in that car and go home, right now.”
She glares at me for a moment, and then tosses her head. “You’re just mad that I told him you liked him, but I’m doing you a favor.” Her head snaps back to Tommy’s face. “She liked you during the play, she liked you during prom, and she liked you during that gameshow thing.” She shakes her head. “Life is short, Mandy. Live it.” Then she climbs back in her mom’s car, revs the engine, and screams down the driveway.
I whip out my phone and send Amanda a scathing text. MAREN JUST CAME BY AND TOLD TOMMY I WAS IN LOVE WITH HIM. SHE WANTED TO LIVE WITH ME. IT WASN’T HARD FOR ME TO TELL HER NO.
Maren’s Amanda’s problem again, but now I have my own mess to deal with, thanks to her.
“Is it true?” Tommy’s eyes are staring at me intently when I look up, and my breath catches in my throat.
“What?” I swallow.
“What she said? Did you—were you in love with me?” I can’t tell whether he’s smirking or smiling, but either way, I feel ragingly uncomfortable.
“She’s a teenager,” I say. “She is so hot and cold. Trust me. You can’t believe anything she says. One minute she’s ready to burn down the house and make an album, and the next she’s bawling in the corner because she dropped her phone in the toilet and her life is over.”
Tommy doesn’t laugh. He doesn’t even so much as blink. “Amanda Saddler, for once in your life, just tell me the truth. Did you like me back then?”
“I—” But I can’t do it. I’ve been lying to him for so long that I don’t even know where to start. If I tell him I liked him . . . I don’t even know what I want. My heart soars at the thought that he might like me. That he might have liked me then and still like me now.
But if that’s true, then he’ll stick around, and I’ll have to confess that my whole life, all the things I’ve told him, and written to him about, everything I’ve said, they were all a lie.
Wouldn’t it be better, with as old as we are, with as established as we are in our lives, if we just let things go?
“Do you know why I came here?” He raises his eyebrows.
“To sign the paperwork,” I say. “To sell off your parents’ farm and finally be done. You told me before.”
He shakes his head slowly and steps closer, his eyes still fixed on mine. “No, that was an excuse.”
Now my heart’s stuttering, and it should not be stuttering like that. “It was?”
“My wife was the sister of my best friend Henry. You met him, remember? When I left here, I had lost my dad, and I had lost you, my only real friend. I was a mess. He was the first person I met, and he was my age, and he became my new best friend right away. We didn’t have much in common, but he was quiet and calm and I needed that. Twenty-five years later, his sister moved back to live with him after her marriage ended, and you were married to Jed, and after measuring literally every woman I met to you, I was lonely and miserable. She and I were miserable together for a while, and it was a little less depressing that way, so eventually, we got married.”
I met Henry when I went, and I knew he had been married to Henry’s sister, but he didn’t tell me the rest. It almost sounds like I’m not the only one who didn’t tell the whole truth.
“When she died a decade back, I was sad. I was lonely, but I wasn’t wrecked. She was a very good, very solid companion, and I missed her. Her brother died two months ago though, Mandy, and that broke me, because I realized that we’re running out of time.” He inhales sharply. “You had a lifetime with Jed. I know that was what you wanted, but I spent a lifetime missing you. And now you’re here, and he’s gone, and I just had to come out here and find out. . .”
“Yes,” I finally say, my heart beating so loudly that I can hear it in my ears. My hands are trembling, and my palms are sweating, and I feel like I might vomit, but the words can’t be held back any longer. “I did like you back then, Tommy. I liked you a lot, and I was going to tell you that before your dad died, but then it was too late.” My words are so soft, I can barely hear them myself. “I liked you more than I liked Jed. I think I always have.”