Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
FREYA
Four steps. Knock. Go inside. Eat dinner. Go home.
No big deal.
I really thought I’d be able to think of an excuse, to fend off Valerie until she realized she’d made a mistake inviting me. But no. She’s been like a dog with a bone since the Open House last week.
Now I’m standing at the bottom of her porch steps, heart pounding, wondering how mad she’d be if I just bolted.
Four steps. Knock. Go inside.
I repeat it to myself like a mantra as I move, pausing in front of the door to take some deep breaths. I squeeze my eyes shut, convincing myself that there’s nothing to panic about, despite the blood roaring in my ears.
It’s just dinner. It’s dinner with a nice lady I’ve talked to dozens of times.
And her son, who I’m sure will be perfectly pleasant.
I need to get in, eat the mac and cheese I was promised, make tepid small talk for approximately ninety minutes, and then go home.
I’ll be curled up with a knitting project and some bad reality TV before I know it.
“You good?” The low drawl has my eyes flying open, and my stomach plummets to my feet.
Leaning against the now open doorway, arms crossed over his chest and that always-assessing gaze trained on me, is Oscar.
I have to root my feet to the boards to stop myself from spinning on my heel and running for my car. What the hell is he doing here? As soon as I have the thought, the answer hits me.
“Valerie’s your mom?”
Oscar frowns, pushing away from the doorframe. “You didn’t know?”
“No? How would I?”
He shrugs. “Everyone knows.”
“I guess I’m not everyone.” I huff.
He pauses, chewing the inside of his cheek. “You certainly are not.”
His eyes catch mine and the intensity there leaves me reeling. I can’t make sense of it, of his words or the way he’s staring at me. None of it feels the way it should with a guy I hardly know, but I can’t pinpoint why.
“You coming in?” He steps out, gesturing for me to lead the way inside.
As we head into the house, the first thing that strikes me is just how many pictures there are.
It’s like a gallery, framed photographs on almost every surface and lining each wall.
They’re all different sizes, with no two frames the same, but the way they’ve been arranged looks meticulous.
It’s as if someone spent days working out how to get as many memories into the space as possible.
“Is that Freya?” Valerie calls through from what I assume is the kitchen, going by the smell that’s wafting out of it.
“Yeah,” Oscar calls back. “We’ll be there in a second.”
He leads me forward, but my feet catch as we draw up next to a large photograph, the biggest on this part of the wall. In it is a little boy with shaggy brown hair, holding up a fish as he stands by a lake, a tall man next to him with an arm wrapped around his shoulders.
I peer at the boy’s face, trying to find anything of him in my memories. There’s a vague impression of a warm smile across a cafeteria, but nothing I can grasp on to.
“How did I not know you?” I murmur, my hand coming up to trace the familiar lines of a younger Oscar’s face as my chest pangs with guilt.
“Maybe I wasn’t that memorable.”
I catch his sad smile in the reflection of the glass. “Don’t say that.”
He nudges his shoulder into mine, then nods at the frame. “That was my first fish.”
I lean closer, eyeing the man who must be his father. “He looks proud.”
“He was. He was the best.”
I frown at his words. “Was?”
“He’s not around anymore.”
“Did he die?” The words are out before I can stop them and I hate the twist of pain they cause across Oscar’s features. Damn it. Why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut?
“Yeah.” His eyes hit the floor, and I wish I could rewind the last ten seconds.
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re fine. Let’s go eat, yeah?”
As soon as I step into the kitchen I’m wrapped in a tight hug, the faint smell of Valerie’s perfume tickling my nose. “Hi, sweetie.”
“Hi,” I mumble into her shoulder, returning her hug probably tighter than I should.
Valerie just lets me, meeting me where I’m at.
When we finally separate I have to swallow back a thickness in my throat.
I can see Oscar out of the corner of my eye, leaning against the cabinets.
The traces of hurt from earlier are gone, replaced by a soft smile that’s the spitting image of his mother’s.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.
“Let’s eat.” Valerie places her hands on my shoulders and steers me into a chair.
My spine is rigid as I watch the two of them, not able to relax.
They have such an easy rhythm, it almost feels like I shouldn’t be here.
I’ve felt this way so many times, watching from the outside.
If I screamed, would either of them hear me?
Valerie heads to the oven and pulls out a dish, waving Oscar away as he hovers, trying to take it from her. “I will not have you stealing my glory, young man.” She flaps a towel at him and he eventually concedes, coming to take the seat opposite me.
“I don’t think anybody’s going to mistake me for the chef, Ma.”
“Just let me have my moment.” She sighs playfully, placing the dish in the center of the table with a flourish. It smells like heaven and looks just as good.
“Thank you for this.” I smile up at her, trying to relax my fingers enough to pick up my fork. She shoots me a wink in response and starts serving the cheesy macaroni.
“Oh shoot.” She winces. “I forgot the salad.”
She turns to go but Oscar stops her, standing to get the bowl from the counter. Before setting the bowl down, he pauses next to me, his elbow almost brushing my shoulder as he raises his eyebrows in question. At my nod he starts piling greens onto my plate, then serves his mom and himself.
As I look at the two of them, now seated around me, there’s a warm little ember sparking to life in my chest. I was nervous coming in, but I also don’t remember the last time somebody cooked for me. There’s so much love here, it seeps from the walls almost like something you can taste.
“I’m planning to swing by the store this week and grab some new needle tips,” Valerie says to me between mouthfuls.
“You swing by every week,” Oscar teases. He isn’t wrong. Valerie’s spending habits are half the reason I’m in the black.
“I have things I need!” she protests.
“Sure you do.”
“You see what I’m dealing with?” She rolls her eyes at me and I grin, taken in by their easy teasing.
I don’t think my mom’s ever teased me, not really.
I’m sure she always thought I’d take it the wrong way, that she needed to tiptoe.
Even before I was diagnosed, she babied me, and it only got worse once she had a name for the way that I am.
“Don’t listen to her, I’m a delight.” Oscar smirks at me in a way that has heat rising to my cheeks.
Turning back to Valerie I try not to laugh at him as I say, “You’ll need to come in before Friday. I’m headed to Denver over the weekend so I’ll be closed.”
“Oh, shoot, I forgot about that,” she says.
Oscar frowns. “Forgot what?”
“I have a convention,” I reply.
“What kind?”
“Um, just a craft fair thing? I have a booth,” I say uncertainly, put off by the intensity of his expression.
“It’s a big one,” Valerie interjects. “I’ve been a few times, always manage to do some damage to my wallet.”
“Are you going this year?” I ask hopefully.
She winces apologetically. “Not this time.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.” It would have been nice to have a familiar face there.
“Is anyone going with you?” Oscar asks.
“No.” I shrug. “It’s not ideal, but I’ll make it work.”
Valerie frowns. “That’s a long drive to do alone.”
It’s four hours each way. It’s longer than I’ve ever driven in one day, but it’ll be worth it. I was so excited when my vendor application got accepted, this is a huge opportunity for my business. I can’t let the fear of doing it on my own hold me back.
“Don’t I know it,” I say sheepishly.
“You feel okay about doing it by yourself?” Oscar asks between bites.
“Sure!” I try to sound more certain than I am. “Besides, it’s just for this year. Hopefully by next summer I’ll have hired some more help in the store.” For something like this I’d really want two, or maybe three people working the stand.
He hums in agreement, nodding down at his plate. “Are you going to be fine setting up and everything?”
“I’ll make it work. If I need anything I’m sure I can get one of the convention staff to give me a hand.” I hope.
“Elsie’s just outside Denver now, right?” Valerie says. “Maybe she’d come help you?”
“She’s already got plans on Saturday,” I say ruefully.
“Is this your first convention?” Oscar asks.
“I’ve done some smaller ones, but nothing like this.”
Valerie nods at him. “It’s very prestigious.”
He gives me a warm smile that makes my stomach flip over. “That’s awesome.”
“I hope so.” I set down my fork, my dinner long gone. I see Oscar watching me out of the corner of my eye. I meet his gaze and my breath catches at the way he’s looking at me. Almost like he’s deciding something.
“Room for dessert?” Valerie asks, already standing.
“Here, let me.” Oscar ushers her back into her seat. She rolls her eyes affectionately as he bustles about, clearing the table.
“There’s ice cream in the freezer,” she says to him over her shoulder. He nods and grabs bowls from one of the cupboards. When she turns back to me, her eyes are alight with mischief. “You know, he’s had the same favorite flavor since he was old enough to hold a spoon.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, raising my eyebrows at him.
He shrugs, caught. “Mint chocolate chip, every time.”
“We always used to go to Buckley’s,” she says fondly.
“I loved that place!” I exclaim, remembering the tiny ice cream parlor just off main street. My mom used to take me once a week during the summer.
“Any time we need a treat,” Valerie says, smiling as Oscar places a bowl in front of her. “Good grades, dentist’s appointments. Even after all that horribleness with the Riley boy.”
I straighten, fingers tensing against the tablecloth. “Jamie Riley?” What is she talking about?
“Yes!” She snaps her fingers. “What a nasty young man.”
“Mom,” Oscar says, warning in his tone.
How does she know my elementary school bully? He wouldn’t have even been in Oscar’s grade. My fingers start tapping against my knee. One, two, three, four, thumb. Thumb, four, three, two one.
“What horribleness?” I press.
“It really doesn’t matter,” Oscar says, not meeting my eyes.
Valerie starts to catch on to whatever Oscar’s not saying and shovels a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, like she’s trying to physically stop the words from coming.
I bristle slightly at the way he’s brushing me off. “It seems like it does.”
“He and I got into it once, it wasn’t a big deal.”
“What happened?”
He sighs, “I honestly don’t even remember, probably just dumb kid stuff.”
I catch Valerie frowning, just a tiny bit, but it’s enough that I know he’s lying.
What’s he not telling me?