Chapter 7
“You go first.” Lark bounces in her seat as the server, a lovely girl in her late teens with purple-colored lips and vibrant orange hair, smiles at her. She sets down Lark’s Coke. I know, I’m a terrible mom. Sugar bad, water hydrating.
“Oh no, you go first.” My bum still aches from where I fell.
“Sera said to stop by the local apothecary to grab something for your back.” Just like me, she drums her fingers on the tabletop as she takes in the small diner.
Dee-Dee’s Diner. It’s owned by a joyous woman no taller than Lark’s five feet with emerald eyes and freckles to match my daughter’s.
They spent a solid five minutes chatting away about how freckles are really body constellations before I dragged her to a table.
Beautiful deep greens give the place a peaceful atmosphere instead of that rustic diner feel.
Along the back wall is a marble counter with old-fashioned displays of pastries and pies.
I know what I’m buying on the way home. There aren’t that many tables scattered around, maybe only a dozen, but it’s cozy and comfortable and I already love it.
“There’s a local apothecary?” I can feel my wrinkles deepen. I’m only thirty, my wrinkles shouldn’t deepen that much. If I keep this up, I’m going to age myself.
“It’s a pharmacy.”
“I know what it is.” Lifting my coffee cup, I sip angrily. I swear everyone in this little mom-and-pop joint is staring at me—which is a grand total of three people, including Dee-Dee herself.
“You’re angry everyone knows you fell out of the library window, aren’t you?” How in the world?
My jaw drops. It’s not that I didn’t think the town would talk, but the fact that they talked that fast astounds me. “Is there a phone chain?”
“Yep.” The server heads back over with a plate of fries. “Courtesy of Mama for falling out of the window and all.”
“I accept your offering. Now tell me more about this phone chain,” I tell Dee-Dee’s daughter, Darcy. Looks like my family wasn’t the only one who chose themed names.
Considering my grandparents named my mother after a bird, who then named my brother and me after birds, I followed that tradition with Lark.
“Well, see, Saffron heads the town watch, so when anyone enters town, she lets the rest of us know about it since her house is the first one.” That rocking chair seems ominous now that I know she uses it to spy.
“Is there only one way in and out?” I might plan my escape tonight.
“There’s another, but it’s a treacherous road around the mountain and into Canada. Not easily traversed in the cooler months.”
“So never?”
“Oh, the summers here can get rather warm.”
That piques my interest. “How warm?”
“Eighties.”
I deflate.
“It’s okay, Mom, we can vacation somewhere warm.” My little snow spawn does her best to appease me, but I don’t have the heart to tell her she failed.
I love the heat. I grew up in the heat. The cold always intrigued me because of the possibility of snow.
Since I’ve only just experienced my very first snowfall, I’m holding out on making any opinions.
It’s pretty and chilly, and perhaps it is magical when I’m not spinning out of control and crashing my car into a ditch.
But the heat, the humidity, and the utter climate suffocation of the South is what I’ve always known.
This is fresh territory.
“In August, when it’s the warmest, there’s the Silent Spring you can hike to.” Darcy’s face lights up, and I’m getting the feeling this spring is more of a lovers’ hangout than anything else.
“That sounds hopeful.” I perk up.
Darcy winces. “Just make sure you take a tour guide on your first go.”
“Is it hazardous?”
“Not at all, I just…” She trails off, her face flushing. “You seem accident prone.”
Lark hides a laugh, but I don’t because she isn’t wrong. “Then I guess I’ll need a tour guide.” If we are still here in August, which we probably won’t be. Perhaps we can head back here for a vacation. Not that this is an ideal vacation region, but for that, I’ll show up.
“Do you know what you want?” Darcy asks.
After ordering several milkshakes and plenty of protein to get through the rest of the day, I focus on my little bird. “Okay, tell me how the testing went.”
“It was easy.” She flutters her hands. “Honestly, if I wanted to, I could skip the eighth grade here as well.”
“But you won’t.”
“I won’t.” She pops a fry into her mouth, talking as she chews. “I think Ms. Larson picked up on it though, because she said she will have to bump up my schoolwork to advanced.”
“Well, that’s something. You love a good challenge.”
“And you love to fall out of windows.” I can pick up on a deflection when I hear one. “What were you doing in the window anyway?”
“I was like a bloodhound, Lark. You would have been so proud.”
“You smelled coffee again, didn’t you?”
“How’d you know?” I gasp with a hand to my chest in mock shock.
“You turn into a bloodhound when you smell coffee.”
“I thought that very thing.”
“I know you.”
“You do.” I squint at her suspiciously. “Okay, tell me everything you learned.”
“I took a test. There isn’t much I could have learned in the last few hours.” Her eyes dart to the other patrons.
Pointing a fry at her, I state, “Lies. You knew about my mishap in the window.”
“The whole town’s talking about it.”
“I’m the shiny new object. They’ll be talking about us for quite some time.” My voice sours. I’m used to living in a big city where I can walk down the street daily without running into anyone I know. Now here I am, in small-town suburbia, and everyone knows each other.
“Fine. Lori owns the bakery with her husband, Gerald. High school sweethearts. They graduated here in this very town thirty years ago.”
“Perfecting breads and pastries.”
“The very ones in that counter over there.”
I look behind me at the pies and cakes once more, their lure stronger now.
“You’re drooling.”
I swipe at my mouth, finding not a droplet of saliva.
“Tell me more while we wait.” Lark picking up on all the gossip while being locked in a classroom is what I like to call her teen superpower…
unless she somehow got Seraphina to spill all her secrets—another superpower.
Adults find Lark easy to talk to, and they end up spilling everything.
“Right, so Lori’s grandparents established the bakery, and they have one daughter who graduated last year and is now in college.
I didn’t find out which college, but I know it’s in the state.
” Her little face wrinkles up in disgust at missing what, to her, seems like a precious piece of information.
“That might be easy to figure out, depending on which colleges are in the state and how long she takes to get home.”
“You’re very right, Mom.” She chews on another fry just as Darcy brings us two milkshakes in tall glasses.
“Oh, that looks like a sugar high I’m going to have to work off later.” I grab the glass, giving Darcy a thankful smile. “Thank you, you divine creature.”
“That’s a new one, but you’re welcome.” She shakes her head before walking away. I grab a fry and run it through the vanilla milkshake. “It’s perfectly blended to a smooth texture. That’s a hard feat to accomplish.”
“It’s delicious.” She sips her chocolate one before carrying on. “There’s a rock wall the townspeople use as a movie projector.”
“You are going to have to give me more details about that.” It sounds so intriguing, I almost want to head there now.
“Yep, there’s a parking lot and a snack bar. The movies are older because it costs money to get a new one in, but I think we should check it out.”
“Saffron offered us her car.”
“There’s a movie playing tonight,” she says hopefully. “Every Tuesday and Friday at six.”
“That is a very strong possibility,” I reply, but then I realize the time. “Why six? That’s so early.”
“It’s autumn, and the sun goes down early.”
“You mean the town closes early.”
“That too.”
Darcy brings us two burgers that look absolutely mouthwatering. With a smug smile, she sets them down and walks away.
“It’s a good thing you got a job.” Without hesitation, she dives into her burger, cheese plopping onto the plate as she digs in with the fierce abandon of a hungry velociraptor.
“Why? Because I’m a terrible cook and there are a total of…” I grunt in annoyance at not knowing how many restaurants are in this town.
“Three, there are three restaurants.”
“How did you know what I was going to say?” She just gives me that teen look that she perfected at the age of three. Sneaky human. “Oh!” I shout, earning the townspeople’s curious gazes. “I learned something.”
“It’s about the asparagus festival, isn’t it?”
I deflate, she’s like a miniature Sherlock Holmes, and I’m not even Watson, but the maid… What was her name? “I really thought I would have one on you.”
“The festival is mid-April, and it’s a BYOB situation.”
I pause with a fry to my mouth. “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”
“Bring your own basket.” She smiles in triumph.
“Well then, carry on.” I roll my hand with a fry clenched in my fingers, ice cream dripping from the tip.
“So the asparagus festival is one of many festivals this town celebrates. I’m pretty sure every holiday is a festival.”
“Oh, what’s the plan for Thanksgiving?” The image of a big Paul Bunyan type chasing a turkey through the town flashes behind my eyes—and by turkey, I mean a person dressed up as a turkey.
“Not much, they don’t go all out for Thanksgiving.”
“But you just said—”
“I know, but they don’t really talk about Thanksgiving. They find it offensive.”
“A town that finds Thanksgiving offensive?” I harrumph. “I’m going to have to check that one out more extensively.”
A chair scrapes along the floor a moment before Arlo flops down at our table. “I wouldn’t mention Thanksgiving too loudly around here,” he whispers.