31. Lizzie
Chapter Thirty-One
Lizzie
I’m not usually a nail-biter. So, when I catch myself nibbling on my thumbnail as my friends look around, it strikes me that just a couple of months ago, I couldn’t even say friends, plural. I had one friend—Georgie.
Now I’ve got this women’s group spanning ages six to seventy-plus. And I’ve got to say that Layla, the youngest, and Ruthie, the most vintage, are the spunkiest of the group. Tillie, Delaney, and I are way more chill compared to them.
“So, what do you think?” I almost whisper the words. I want it to be exactly what people envision when they think of a cozy little culinary experience space.
Tillie is the first one to speak as she spins around in a slow circle.
“Lizzie, this is gorgeous. Like seriously, this place is going to be perfect for what you have in mind.”
“Absolutely,” Delaney says. “I mean, you’ve got enough seating over here for probably twenty to twenty-five people, right? Yet it still feels so quaint with the natural brick wall and fireplace.”
“And the food prep area? Oh, my God, I’ve never seen an island that big before. There’s gonna be plenty of room for everyone to have their lesson without feeling crowded.” Tillie points toward the island.
“And that’s the biggest oven I’ve ever seen in my life. You could fit a person in there,” Layla says.
Ruthie chuckles. “Let’s hope we never have to test that theory.”
“Ruthie,” Tillie warns.
“What? The kid watches movies.”
“Not those movies anymore,” Tillie mutters. “After the verbal beatdown those boys got? Trust me, they learned.”
“There’s a story there that we’re definitely going to need to hear, but that sounds like one best told with some wine and popcorn,” Delaney says. “What I want to know is, what do you think of it?”
They’re all watching me.
I take a few seconds and slowly turn, so I get a good look at the entire room and the doorway that opens up into the bakery.
“I kind of love it,” I say with a grin. “It’s exactly right. I’m so excited to start some classes in here. If you guys are interested, I’d like to do a couple of practice sessions so you could be my students, if you’re willing.”
“Well, shit damn, is this a little bar?” Ruthie asks.
She’s wandered over to the back corner, where the custom doors Holden had Henry make open to a bar that’s about five feet long. He helped me stock it with some of the best local wines and craft beers. There may have been a bit of taste-testing, too.
“It is, thanks to Harrison working his magic and finding that there was an old liquor license unclaimed.”
Ruthie steps back and digs through her bedazzled purse. She pulls out a five-dollar bill and hands it to Layla, who is standing next to her with her hand out.
“That’s two dollars for now and three for future swears.”
“Swear jar,” Tillie says to me. “It’s pretty much fully funded by Ruthie, Henry, and Harrison.”
“Oh my gosh, I might have to get married again and have my bridal shower here.”
“Mommy! You’re already married.” Layla puts a hand on her hip and pops it out to the side.
“Oh, honey, I’m just kidding. I’m gonna be married to your daddy forever.”
“Aunt Delaney’s gonna end up getting married next anyway, I think. So, she can use it then. When Lizzie gets married to Uncle Holden, it’ll be her turn.”
The room goes silent. My heart pounds in my chest, and I swear, sweat starts running down my back.
“That’s all I got to say,” Layla adds.
Delaney, always sweet and able to read a room, tries to save me.
“Layla, Holden and Lizzie aren’t dating. They’re just trying to be friends.”
“What do you mean trying?” Layla asks, because she’s too smart for her own good.
Ugh.
“It means they were friends when they were younger. It was a long time ago, but... um, they had a fight, and now they’re trying to be friends again.”
I almost forgot Georgie was here until she spoke.
In fairness to me, she’s perched in a chair at the front corner of the room, taking everything in. I’m suddenly consumed with panic that maybe she doesn’t like it.
“Georgie, you hate it, don’t you? The whole idea is stupid. No, wait. I know it’s not stupid. But the décor is off, right?” I’m not sure why I’m rambling.
“Lizzie.” She rises from her chair and walks over to me. She grabs me and pulls me into a hug. “It is absolutely amazing. I don’t know how you pulled it off in the timeframe you did.”
“Well, I had help.”
“I know Holden helped you a little bit on the other side,” she says.
I hesitate. They’re going to read into this.
“He did more than a little. He did a ton for me on this side, too. Because of my arm,” I quickly add.
Layla grins. “Because of your arm. Sure.”
The other women break out in laughter, and I try to think of some way to change the subject. But I don’t have to because Ruthie does it for me.
She’s by the island, caressing the quartz countertop,
“Georgie, write something like this into your books. It would be the ideal second-chance setup. I mean, look at this place. It would be the perfect space for a—” she glances over at Layla, “You know what type of scene.”
“What?” Layla asks.
“That’s a food preparation place,” I say quickly, trying to distract her.
Georgie eggs Ruthie on, though. “Right, but romance novels—”
“Okaaaay, why don’t we go get lunch?” Tillie says. “Maybe tone it down to G-rated.”
I’m grateful for the interruption.
We head across the town square to enjoy a leisurely meal at the small diner and spend time filled with girl talk.
Layla provides us with plenty of laughter.
She regales us with stories about how she’s dreading going back to school because a boy named Noah likes her “like a girlfriend” and tried to hold her hand at the end-of-year class party in June.
The time passes quickly, and before I know it, lunch is over.
As we walk back to my place, it’s hot. Like that heavy end-of-summer heat, and I wish it would rain. One of those cool rains that doesn’t ruin a day but changes everything for an hour or two. Unfortunately, I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s not gonna happen.
“It’s hotter than a—”
“Ruthie, stop there,” Tillie warns.
“We should go swimming,” Layla blurts out. “Just the girls. Well, and Uncle Harry, because he lives there. And maybe Uncle Holden because I’m working with him.”
“Working with him?” Tillie asks. “On what?”
“Uh...” Layla’s expression tells me she didn’t mean to tell us about this. “I can’t say right now. It’s private, but it’s a good thing.”
“Oh, boy. I think I know,” Ruthie says. She winks at Layla. “Let me know if you need any help there, Ladybug. You know I’ve got lots of ideas.”
Uh, oh. Even in my short time in Aron Falls, I’ve learned that those two working together usually means trouble.
“Okay, thanks, Ruthie. I think I got this one, though.” Layla shrugs confidently. “He’s easy to figure out.”
I’m not sure if this “work” she’s talking about scares me or intrigues me. Maybe both.
When we get back to my place, we’re all hot and decide a cup of lemonade and a rest for a few minutes sounds perfect. Almost immediately after we get there, my mom arrives, bringing Simon home from an overnight stay.
As soon as Simon and Layla see each other, they grin from ear to ear, and Simon pulls out his new bug book to show her. Within seconds, they move to a table away from the adults and chatter away as they look through the pages.
“Mom, these are my friends,” I tell her.
I introduce them one by one, and she makes small talk with Ruthie for a few minutes after meeting everyone.
When she’s ready to go, she kisses Simon goodbye, and I walk her out. Once outside, I’m surprised when I glance over at her and find her eyes glassy with unshed tears.
“Mom! What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Just me asking is enough to make the tears break free. She sheds a few of them and furiously swipes at her face.
“Oh gosh. Sorry, baby. I’m fine.”
“Then why are you crying? People who are fine don’t usually cry.”
She fans her face with her hand. “No, really. I’m good. I’m being emotional. I’m... I’m just so pleased to see you making some friends. You look happy.”
I feel my cheeks heat. “I am happy. This move has been good for me. And I’ve had friends before.”
“I know. But you’ve also spent a long time taking care of me in ways you shouldn’t have had to. I’m really sorry I put you in that position.”
I turn my gaze downward. “It’s okay, Mom. You were going through a lot and—”
“You were the child, sweetheart. Yes, I battled some major issues, but it doesn’t make it right. It doesn’t take away that you should never have had to feel like you had to take care of me.”
My mom pulls me into a hug, and we stand there in front of my bakery in Aron Falls, tearful and healing at the same time.
“Mom, can we go across the street and try to fly our kite again?” Simon is in the doorway of the bakery, holding up the kite for me to see.
“Ooh, that sounds fun!” Layla says, apparently having already forgotten about swimming. She’s standing next to him, bouncing on her toes with eagerness.
The thing is, we’ve been working on flying that kite for a week now, and we can’t seem to get it to take off.
I swipe at my tears before Simon can see, and my mom does the same.
“We could try,” I offer.
“Hey. I’m really good with kites, kiddos. I can teach you how to do it,” Ruthie says. There’s a confidence in her voice that makes me believe her. When I meet her eyes, she gives me an understanding smile. “If it’s okay with your moms, we’ll go over now, and they can catch up.”
I mouth thank you before she looks away.
Within a minute or so, she’s crossing the road with them, holding each child by the hand. I say goodbye to my mom and head inside the shop, where Georgie immediately approaches me.
“We’ll top off the lemonades and carry them over. Why don’t you take a few minutes, then meet us?”
I still wasn’t used to having this many people caring about me in my life. People who wanted to stay. I could get used to it.
After I’ve gone upstairs and washed my face, I’m locking up the storefront to meet the rest of the group when my phone alerts me to a text message.
I heard a rumor that the furniture got delivered. Is that true?
Holden.
I take a second.
Yes, it came in late last evening. I have it all set up.
Do you even remember you have a broken wrist?
I know, but I was really excited, and it was already seven-thirty, and I didn’t want to bug you. I didn’t know if maybe you’d be out on a date or something.
I hit send and immediately regret it. Why did I say that about a date?
I watch for a few minutes as the ominous three dots appear and disappear, and ultimately, I have no idea what his reaction is.
In the end, it takes about three minutes for Holden to answer, and by then I’ve arrived across the street to join the others.
The kids are chasing Ruthie around as she tries, and fails, to get the kite flying.
I laugh, watching Ruthie in her matching summer tracksuit covered in flower sequins, with those two munchkins racing behind her like a tiny, chaotic parade.
I pause and glance down to read the text.
Any chance I could see it tonight?
I hesitate. What do I say?
You can go ahead anytime.
His answer is immediate.
I’d like to see it with you.
Now I’m the one taking forever to respond. What does that mean exactly? Probably nothing. Get your shit together, Lizzie.
Okay. Let me look at my calendar and let you know what time. Okay?
Shit. I hit send prematurely once again. Check my calendar? What calendar? The obsessive life-size planner on the back of my door? My calendar consists of working and spending time with my boy. I have nothing major on said calendar.
Sounds good. Have fun with the ladies. You deserve it.
How does he know I’m out with the women?
I look around to make sure he’s not watching me, and I don’t see anything suspicious. It takes a minute, but I remind myself that he’s not Landon, so he probably knows from talking to Delaney or Tillie.
Under control. My life is under control now, I remind myself.
I sigh, then straighten my posture, trying to channel the woman I want to be. Strong, confident, unafraid.
“Fake it until you make it,” I mutter.
I take a deep breath and walk toward my new friends.