Chapter Twenty
Twenty
It was an art, waving into the camera, a bright smile frozen on your face, while you clicked “Leave Meeting” at the same time.
It had been a while since I’d been in a virtual meeting—since the one that had laid me off, as a matter of fact—but it was like riding a bicycle.
Or being a lady-in-waiting at the renaissance faire. Some things never left you.
I waited till the window closed and for the little video light on my laptop’s camera to blink out before I let that bright smile drop, taking a deep breath that turned into the longest sigh.
I closed my computer and took a sip of water; I needed it after all the talking I’d been doing.
Then I rolled my shoulders and shook the residual tension from my hands as I reviewed the notepad at my elbow.
I’d taken plenty of notes during the interview, and there was a lot to think about.
I was still thinking as I sat down to dinner. Thankfully, I didn’t need to do much talking. Not at first, at least. All I had to do was ask Mitch how his follow-up at the doctor’s went, then sit back and listen.
“He cleared me. I’m free of the boot!” Mitch said in triumph.
Mom frowned at him from her seat at the table. “That’s not quite what he said,” she reminded him. “You promised not to overdo it, remember?”
“I won’t,” he said, chastened. “But that means I can help with set strike this week. There’s so much to do; we have to get all those benches back to storage and…” His eyes widened as hers narrowed. “And I can, uh, supervise all that.”
She nodded. “That’s better.” Mitch sighed, like a kid being grounded, but humor danced in his eyes. She took care of him, and he liked it. And I liked it for the both of them.
“Oh, did I tell you?” Mitch reached for the sour cream, plopping a couple spoonfuls on his baked potato. “Simon texted earlier…” I automatically tensed up, waiting for the next Faire emergency, before I remembered that the season was over. There wouldn’t be any more emergencies.
And he wasn’t talking to me anyway. Mom raised her eyebrows in a question while she chewed, and he continued. “Mike Matthews is retiring.” Mom shook her head, her expression blank, but I knew this one.
“The drama teacher?” I remembered Mr. Matthews. He’d been about a hundred and fifty when I’d been in high school, so him retiring wasn’t the biggest surprise.
Mitch nodded. “He teaches driver’s ed too.
Anyway, I guess this next school year is his last, and he’s retiring after that.
” He shrugged. “I don’t know him all that well, but he and Simon are tight, I guess.
Makes sense…English teacher, drama teacher.
Anyway, Simon wanted to know if I wanted to think about taking over. ”
“Taking over the drama department?” Mom sounded incredulous, and I almost choked on a bite of peas.
Mitch’s laugh was loud and long. “Oh, hell no. Can you imagine me in charge of the spring musical? No, I think he meant driver’s ed.” A cloud flashed across his face. “At least, I hope he meant driver’s ed.”
“That would make more sense.”
“Those kids better not touch my truck.”
“I’m sure they won’t,” Mom said soothingly. She slid a second slice of meatloaf onto her plate as Mitch turned to me.
“How about you? Any interest in running a drama department?”
I gave a mock shudder. “Oh, God, no. Besides, I had an interview today.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Mom put her knife and fork down and looked over at me with a guilty expression. “I knew that. I’m sorry, I should have asked about that first thing.”
I waved a hand. “No big deal.” I wasn’t upset. Dinner around the table with family was for all kinds of conversations, and my news wasn’t any more important than Mitch’s. Or Mr. Matthews’s, apparently.
“I’m sure you crushed it,” Mitch said, and I loved the absolute certainty in his voice.
He wasn’t wrong. “I did crush it.” I let myself sound proud, because I felt proud, dammit.
I’d given them a little bit of the Queen when I’d logged on to that interview: smooth, unruffled expression and a quiet confidence.
I’d answered every question with ease, and from the looks on everyone’s faces I’d given the right answers.
I was exactly what they were looking for—they knew it, and I knew it.
But I also knew not to get my hopes up. “It was just an interview, though,” I reminded Mom and Mitch. “Not an offer. Not yet.”
Mitch made a pfft sound. “I’m sure it won’t take long.”
“That’s great, honey.” Mom smiled at me from across the table. “In the city, right? Isn’t that what you said?”
I nodded. “New York.”
“You must be so excited.”
“Oh, I am.” I dropped my eyes to my plate.
Wasn’t I? At the beginning of the summer, this was the best-case scenario I’d played in my head.
And on paper, it was everything I wanted out of life.
It was my ticket to a life of security. I should be thrilled.
I should already be three tabs deep in potential apartment rentals and making plans to move.
That’s what pre-Faire Caitlin would have done.
But I’d changed these past few weeks. That armor around my heart no longer felt safe. Instead it chafed, and I’d all but shed it, choosing to chase joy instead. Now a life away from Willow Creek, a life away from Alex…
It didn’t sound like me anymore.
—
After Faire ended I’d expected Alex to leave, to pack up his serial killer van and head off to his new life.
But he’d stuck around. Mitch was still on light duty, so Alex had pitched in to help strike the Faire set—take down the stages and the ticket booth, haul the audience benches back to storage.
But it wasn’t until midweek, when he dropped by the bookstore to take me out for another ice-cream date, that I really understood what he was doing.
“You’re stalling.” I sat cross-legged in the grass, the trunk of a big oak tree against my back and a bite of chocolate chocolate chip melting against my tongue.
“What?” A few feet away Alex rummaged in his backpack, bringing out two palm-size beanbags.
I clucked my tongue at him; even his answer was a stall. “Stalling,” I repeated. “Aren’t your parents expecting you home, to start your new job at…” I trailed off as I thought. “What’s your new job again?”
“Selling insurance. Going into business with my dad.” He tossed a weighted beanbag in the air, then another, catching them and sending them soaring with one hand in smooth, practiced movements.
After a few moments he caught them both and turned to me with a triumphant grin. “I think that was a new record!”
I tilted my head and pushed my sunglasses on top of my head, raking some hair out of my face. “A lot of juggling in insurance sales?”
“Sadly, no.” He pulled two more beanbags out of the backpack. “But I’ve always wanted to get better at juggling, and there’s no time like the present, you know?”
I knew. Alex’s energy had been on the verge of frantic this week. His old life was on borrowed time now, and he was trying to make every day, every moment, count. And I got that. He was doing what he loved and he was going to have to give it up.
He was going to have to give me up too.
“You’re one to talk, you know.” He didn’t look at me while he spoke; his focus was on adding a third beanbag to his juggling practice, squinting up at them as he sent them higher and higher. “Have you even started packing for New York?”
I shook my head as I finished my ice cream.
“I don’t have the job yet. So I’m stuck in limbo.
” But he was right. He knew me; and I wasn’t one to let a detail like that come between me and planning my future.
In the days since the interview, I’d tried to get excited about this job.
Tried to visualize this new course my life would be taking.
But it all felt…fake. Like it was happening to someone else.
It didn’t seem tangible. Helping Emily do inventory at the bookstore seemed preferable, and that was just weird.
“Besides, Simon needs me for a couple more days to get stuff put away. I told my parents that I’d head up their way next week.
” He was up to four beanbags now, and he kept them going for a couple more revolutions before catching them all one by one.
He tossed them into the backpack and then dropped to the grass next to me.
“Looks like we’re both in limbo, then,” I said.
He leaned into me, his nose brushing mine. “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather be stuck in limbo with.”
Even our kiss tasted a little like desperation, and my heart pounded as we drew apart. “Do you think we’ll…stay in touch?” God, I wanted to cringe even as I asked the question. Talk about desperate; I sounded like Teenage Caitlin all over again, just ripe to be dumped before chem lab.
“Yeah…” But Alex looked as uncertain as I felt. He met my eyes for a brief instant before dropping his gaze to our joined hands. “I can come see you in New York? It’s only a twelve-hour drive from Chicago. Okay, that sounds like a lot when I say it out loud.”
My nod was a little too eager. “Or I could come see you? There’s always long weekends, frequent flyer miles…”
“Of course. Once I get settled, get my own place…” His kiss was a little less desperate this time. He rested his forehead against mine, his hand cupping my cheek. “This isn’t goodbye, Cait. I swear.”
I almost believed him.
—
Inventory at the bookstore was an end-of-summer tradition, as tedious as it was tiring.
It was as much a chance to deep clean the shelves and organize the used books as anything else.
We still had customers coming in during the chaos, mostly super-last-minute shoppers with their summer reading lists, and I did my best to keep the mess to a minimum while Emily dealt with the customers.
“Shouldn’t this be more all-hands-on-deck?” I asked on Friday morning. I was up on the ladder, running a rag across an empty shelf, a box of books down on the floor waiting to be reshelved.