9. Chapter 9
I hit the Enter key on my laptop and finish posting a want ad on the Cold Spring Community Facebook page. When I look up, I see my sister heading towards the door, holding Tori and Holly’s hands. Her belly seems bigger than the last time I saw her.
They walk in, and the girls immediately run over to greet me. Holly reaches me first, and when I pick her up for a hug and kiss, I can smell her dad’s aftershave on her. Brushing the thought aside, I pick up Tori and give her a big smooch.
“Auntie Loren, that’s too much love, too much love!” she says, laughing and wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. It’s a running joke we have between us. When she was two, I picked her up for a kiss, and she slobbered all over my cheek. Wiping it away, I told her, “That’s too much love, Tori, too much love!” Now, I do the same to her every so often, and she’ll respond in kind. It’s something sweet we share just between the two of us.
I’ll have to think of something special to share with Holly, just between us.
“How are you doing?” I ask, looking at Katherine.
“I’ve been a little tired,” she says, “Baby is more active. He’s been waking me up in the middle of the night. I’ll snuggle up to Adam with my belly against his back so he can share the sleepless nights with me.”
“That’s so mean,” I say. “Poor Adam.”
“He loves it,” she laughs, “He thinks baby Jon has the potential to be a great soccer player or maybe a boxer.”
I look down at the girls, quietly waiting their turn to speak.
“Auntie Loren, where’s Holly’s plate?” asks Tori.
“I dropped it off at your house last night. You didn’t see it?”
“Oh, she hasn’t been home yet.” Katherine explains, “She spent the night. Aaron had to go to New York to pick up his parents, so she’s with me again.” She gives Holly a little squeeze. “They’re back from their annual Mexican cruise. “
“Didn’t you and Adam go on the same cruise with them a couple of years ago?” I ask.
“It was three years ago,” she says, “I remember because it was the first time we ever left Tori. The Baldwins are a lot of fun. We had a blast.”
“Sometimes I forget that Adam and Aaron are foster brothers,” I say. “Adam was such a big part of our family when we were growing up that I honestly forget he wasn’t actual family.”
“With Peter being a doctor,” she begins, “He worked long hours in the ER when Adam came into the family. Adam was in school or at our house when he was home. Aaron was already away at college. Adam has always been close to Christina, but his relationship with Peter blossomed once Peter retired. They’ve more than made up for lost time. Tori calls them Grandma Tina and Grandpa Pete. They love our daughter as much as they love Holly.”
The girls are sitting at a table, using markers, colored pencils, paint, and brushes to draw and paint on white paper I put down for them.
“Holly,” I say, “I’m sure your Daddy loved your plate, and he must’ve put it in a very special place in your house. When you go home tonight, I’m sure he’ll show you where he put it.”
Holly smiles, seemingly happy with my explanation. I bend over and give her a gentle kiss on top of her head. She looks at me and says, “I’m gonna draw you!”
“I would love that!” I respond excitedly.
“Are you going to visit the Clays tonight?” Katherine asks.
“Yes, I spoke to Laura earlier today,” I say. “She’s making Beef Wellington for dinner.”
“Ooh, fancy,” Katherine smiles.
“It was one of Justin’s favorite dishes.”
Before I get lost in deep thought, Katherine changes the subject.
“Mom told me she finally convinced you to hire someone to help you run the studio.”.
“Yes,” I say. “I just posted the ad on Facebook. I’m sure I’ll get a few applicants.”
“What are you looking for specifically,” she asks.
“Someone who’s a quick learner. Maybe a college student looking for part-time work.”
Just as I’m about to ask Katherine about Aaron’s girlfriend, Holly walks up and hands me her work of art.
It’s a drawing of a woman wearing a green blouse and a long black skirt with a belt around the waist.
“That’s me!” I exclaim. “Wow, you’re so talented.”
“You can keep it,” she says, with a sweet smile that makes her eyes sparkle.
“Thank you, Holly. I’ll put this up on my refrigerator so I can see it every day.
Her smile grows bigger, and then she wraps her arms around my legs in a tight squeeze that I feel all the way up to my heart.
After they leave, I realize it’s almost time to close. I start my daily routine of picking up the tables and emptying the waste baskets.
The phone rings just as I’m about to walk out. Five minutes later, I have a third interview scheduled for tomorrow.
On my way to see the Clays, I stop by a bakery and pick up a lemon meringue pie for Charles. Getting together once a month helps us keep Justin’s memory alive. We eat his favorite meals, we share memories, stories of his childhood. Laura talks about how sweet and smart he was as a baby. How difficult her pregnancy was, and how they tried to have more children but failed. I can spend hours with them because it’s the closest I can get to being with Justin again.
Sometimes, I go into his room, which is exactly how he left it. Even after he’d already moved into our new house, his mom kept his room intact. There are multiple photos of us up on the walls, capturing our love story from beginning to end, the last pictures being the ones we took at our wedding rehearsal a few days before the accident. Multiple trophies are on the walls, perched on top of floating shelves. There are sports memorabilia everywhere. A few clothing items are still in the closet.
Today, I pull out one of his sweaters and I put it on. I walk over to the dresser and pick up his cologne. I lift it to my nose, inhaling the familiar scent. I close my eyes briefly, pretending he’s standing next to me. Just as I get ready to spray some of the cologne on the sweater I’m still wearing, Laura comes into the room. She walks over to me and puts an arm around me. We sit on the bed together, and for a few minutes, we enjoy each other’s company in the quiet, empty room.
Later, I join Charles back at the table, and we each have a piece of pie. We talk about the studio, and I tell him I want to hire someone to help me.
“I drove by the other day,” he begins,” I was going to stop and say hello, but I could see through the windows that you had a full house.”
“It must’ve been the day I had a birthday party,” I say, “I had six kids ranging in age between three and ten, plus a couple of parents. They made Happy Birthday mugs for their grandfather’s birthday.”
He nods and gives me a forced smile. I can almost read his mind. He’s thinking about the fact that he’ll never get to experience having grandchildren. I reach over and lay my hand over his.
“I have a bridal shower this weekend,” I say, “Those are always fun.” I can hear the sarcasm in my voice. He puts his warm, protective hand over mine, and this time, his smile is genuine.
Laura must’ve overheard our conversation because she walks in and sits next to Charles, folding her hands in front of her.
“Loren, there’s going to come a day when you’ll meet someone special. When that day comes, please don’t feel obligated to continue these monthly visits. We understand, and we support you. This is now our life, but it doesn’t have to be yours. You’re young, and you’re entitled to have a life after Justin. You deserve to find love again. You have our blessing. You know that, right?” She’s been giving me a similar version of the same talk for years.
“Yes, I know, and you know that you two are my family.”
I look down at my watch and see that it’s past eight-thirty. “I have to go,” I say. “Thank you so much for dinner.”
As I put my sweater back on, I remind Laura that Mom will be expecting her on Thursday. They’ve been playing tennis together for as long as I can remember. Dad and Charles golf together almost every Friday. Even with Justin gone, we continue to be a family. That will never change, so these visits will continue for as long as they have me.
On my way home, I stop by the grocery store and grab everything I need to make a salad for tomorrow’s lunch. I have three interviews scheduled during my lunch break, so I’ll have to eat quickly, maybe in between people.
In true Loren fashion, I buy way more than I need. Thinking I can handle two full bags and a half gallon of milk, I leave my cart inside the store and head for my car. When the phone starts ringing, I try to balance both bags on one arm so I can answer it. Before I realize what’s happening, I slam into someone coming in the opposite direction. The contents of one bag go flying everywhere, and when I instinctively try to catch everything in midair, I tip the other bag over and spill those contents, too.
“I am so sorry,” I hear someone say, and when I look up to apologize, too, I realize I’m standing right in front of Aaron Baldwin.
“You should be!” I say, bending over to pick up my lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, and croutons.
“Here, let me get that,” he says as he starts picking up other items off the ground. There are cookies, ice cream, candy bars, microwave popcorn, and Hot Pockets.
“Hot Pockets?” I hear him say.
“Don’t you dare judge me!” I say, grabbing the box from his hand and throwing it back in one of the bags.
He picks up the milk and examines it to make sure it’s not leaking.
We continue picking up items in silence, and when all items are accounted for, he picks up both bags.
“Here, let me walk you to your car.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I say begrudgingly. “I got it.”
“It’s the least I can do for slamming into you. Even though it was your fault.”
I gasp in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?” I say, with both my nerves and my temper now frayed.
“Loren, you couldn’t see anything in front of you, and then you tried to answer the phone. You wouldn’t drive your car that way, would you?”
“Ok, that’s it! Give me my bags and go away.”
“I’m just kidding. I wasn’t paying attention either,” he says, almost laughing.
When we reach my car, I pop the trunk, and he puts the bags in. He shuts the trunk and walks over to my door just as I open it.
“Aaron,” I say.
“Yes, Loren.”
“You’re in my personal space.”
“I am not in your personal space,” he says with one hand on the roof, “There are at least three feet between us.”
The door is open, and I’m standing ready to climb in, but I don’t. Instead, I’m standing here like an idiot, gazing into his eyes like I have nothing better to do. He takes a step forward, and now he’s definitely in my space. My heart skips a beat and then begins a strange little jig inside my chest.
“You dropped something,” he says, holding my phone in one hand while resting the other on the roof. He’s standing so close now that I can smell his aftershave.