Chapter 14
Unknown: I wish you had told me you left. I’m on my way.
The ominous text glares at me. I know it should worry me, but this number is mostly new and only a handful of people have it.
Not only that, but I’ve seen some weird stories about people with reused numbers, and the texts they’ve received are insane.
I think there just might be a whole website dedicated to those.
I snap a screenshot, intending to upload it later.
I mean, the owner of the unknown number could just want to extend my car warranty, which would be incredible because it’s currently sitting in the shop with Arlo while he learns all his parts that make him tick.
At least one of us will learn his parts.
I know I should delete the text, but I can’t help it, so I give it a swift reply.
Me: Perfect, because I’ve lost my keys.
A little bubble pops up, showing the other end is texting back, but a firm hand on my shoulder prevents me from replying and apparently falling over.
“Don’t die.” Autumn rights me on the sidewalk.
Glancing around, I realize I almost walked straight into a tree, which would have hurt. “Thanks.” I tuck my phone into the pocket of my fancy fresh coat and look at Autumn, who’s standing before me, wearing jeans, boots, and a heavy sweater. She scowls at me. “As always, a pleasure.”
Not in the mood to dive into that storm, I look both ways to cross the not at all busy street and head back to the library with my and Ms. Aberdeen’s lunches.
Autumn growls behind me, her footsteps dramatic on the pavement. “Wait.” She doesn’t sound happy about that command.
I do not, in fact, wait, and instead choose to continue to the library and my lunch before it grows cold in my hands.
“Darn it, Wren, wait.”
“Nope, a food coma calls, and I am a slave to that siren’s wail,” I shout over my shoulder, then I pick up my pace, choosing to speed walk like those little old ladies who do so with weights in their hands.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She catches up to me, matching me step for step.
“That, Autumn, is on you.” I nod to the library, taking the steps two at a time. “Back to work,” I grumble, heading inside and out of the cold.
The tantalizing scent of snow lingers in the air as it has for days, the threat of it on each breath of wind. Yet it doesn’t let loose, just hovering there like a sword.
Eventually, it will dump all over us.
I rush through to the lunchroom. Ms. Aberdeen is nowhere in sight, even as Autumn follows me in.
There goes my buffer. Instead, I’m stuck throwing her food in the fridge and slumping into a seat beside a smug-looking Autumn.
Giving up, I toss my coat aside, determined to consume my food like a Hoover vacuum because I’m starving.
“Fine.” I flip open my lid and stare at the turkey dinner that I got for lunch. If she thinks I’m sharing, she’s out of her mind. “Speak.” I wave a fork at her as I dig into my turkey and gravy.
“Look…” She leans forward in her chair, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “Arlo is my twin, and Bloom is my friend. You can’t be too angry that I wanted to look out for both of them when you’ve made it very clear you are only staying here because you have to.”
I grumble at her for pointing out every single flaw that reflects back at me in the mirror. I hate that she isn’t wrong, but it doesn’t mean that I have to agree with her, so I give her a bored look.
“You know it and I know it, so let’s just call it what it is and move on.
Okay?” She nods to herself as though that settles it, and maybe to her, it does.
“I know they won’t ever get back together.
I know this, but then you come along, sweeping my brother off his feet, and how am I supposed to handle that? ”
“You were mean to me,” I say around a mouthful of turkey, sounding like a petulant child.
“You are an outsider.”
“You are not helping your case.”
She growls at me like a rabid hyena. I hide my laughter by shoveling a biscuit into my mouth.
“No, I’m not.” She sighs, leaning back in her chair. “Can we just start over?”
“You want to start over?” I shake my head in defeat, not sure how I feel about this. On one hand, I get where she is coming from because I’d be the same way with Robin. But then again, she was mean. “For what end goal?”
“How about a truce?” Her blue eyes light up with mischief.
“What kind of truce?”
“I’ll tell you why we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”
“So you admit it?” This aha moment leaves me giddy, my fork falling onto my plate.
“I admit it, but no one else will admit it.” She raps her knuckles on the table. “I’ll tell you, but then I’ll have to swear you to secrecy. Pretend you don’t know. I don’t care how, but make it believable.”
“All right,” I agree hesitantly, because my stomach flares with nerves at the ominous feeling in the air.
“Pinky promise.” Autumn waves her pinky between us.
“Are we teens again?”
“Yes, want to play light as a feather, stiff as a board in the cemetery?”
“Yes,” I reply swiftly, because that sounds amazing.
“Fine, meet me at the cemetery at seven tonight for ladies’ night.”
“You’re serious?” Okay, why does this sound like the best thing to come out of this town so far?
“I never joke over a pinky promise.” Again, she waves her pinky at me. Then this devious human adds on a bargain I can’t refuse. “Why don’t we make it an all-out girls’ sleepover?”
I gasp. “How dare you?” Food forgotten, I give her my pinky and we shake on it.
“To a new beginning.” She looks far too hopeful. “New friendships.”
“Starting with a cemetery walk.” I drop her pinky and go back to my food. Thinking twice, I get up and grab an extra fork to throw at her before I place my lunch between us to share.
Her stomach grumbles its thanks. “You know Paris, right?”
“Snarky little thing.” I nod with a smile because I really like the woman.
“She will give you twenty reasons why her husband died, and she will never give the real reason.”
“I noticed that.”
“He died five years ago on Thanksgiving while she was pregnant.” My fork clatters to the Styrofoam, but Autumn doesn’t have the same qualms I do about carrying on. “While she was in labor.”
“I don’t want to hear this anymore.” I push the food away, my stomach aching in pain for the sweet woman.
“Too bad you asked for it, but I’ll spare you the gory details and just let you know what her husband was like,” she speaks around a mouthful of mashed potatoes before swallowing.
“They were high school sweethearts, and they ran Thanksgiving every year. It was his favorite holiday. Now, she hates it. The town is insanely loyal to its citizens, and after that, the holiday just faded into obscurity.”
“That poor woman.”
“Don’t look at her like that.” She waves the fork around my face. “She will know you know, and then I’ll be in deep trouble. I don’t enjoy being in trouble with my friends.” She coughs before looking me dead in the eye and says, “You.”
“Me what?” I question with hesitance while pointing my own fork at me.
“You are now my friend.”
“This conversation is giving me whiplash.” I can’t keep up with Autumn’s moods. She swings from hot to cold in a nanosecond. More so than a teenager.
“That’s why I followed you.”
“Oh, so it isn’t because you were rude the other day?”
“That too, and we did this whole lunch thing.” She swirls her fork in the air between us. “We should do lunch on Fridays.”
That escalated quickly. And it might just be far more socialization than I’m willing to commit to. “Let’s go back a step.”
“Paris, right?” She digs into the mashed potatoes like a starving vagabond.
“Her husband.”
“Yep.”
I wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. Instead, she gets up, tossing a napkin down beside the Styrofoam. “Lunch is on me on Friday.” She saunters out of the break room, calling, “See you at seven,” over her shoulder.
What just happened? Did I just gain a new friend? Unsure, I finish my meal, but it turns to ash on my tongue as I think about Paris as a young, grieving widow.
It’s more than that though. It’s the fact that an entire town shut down because her husband died and not one of them made Thanksgiving into a celebration again. It is, after all, my favorite food- filled holiday.
I glance outside at the street where people walk about, smiling at one another as they pass, their happiness radiating from them as they greet each other. What’s it like to have others to rely on?
If I had an entire town to support me when Gram died, when Eric died, would I have spiraled as I did? Would I have pulled out better for it in the long run?
This town doesn’t just offer a new beginning, it offers friendship and family. I once read that it takes a village to raise a child. I only had me, only myself, to rely on.
There are a thousand what-ifs I could stumble upon, but they’d only trip me and I’d end up face-planted in the mud, staring at a moose again.
Let them teach you.
Lark’s words haunt me again, her sweet voice ringing through my ears as I stare at the town spread out before me.
“There you are.” Ms. Aberdeen saunters into the break room, pulls out her lunch without question, and, as always, turns on her favorite show. “The flyers are out for Wednesday. You should pick out a book to read to those little ones.”
“Oh, I’ve already thought of it.” Gathering my food, I toss it into the trash I’ll empty at the end of the day.
“Nothing too wordy.” She winks at me. Again, it’s something I thought about already because I don’t know who will even show up at eleven. “The entire town is buzzing about story time, so I’d expect a full house.”
“What?” No way are there that many kids in this town.
“Oh, of course. The library reopening has the town buzzing with excitement. Even my son Arthur will be on the line to watch.”
On the line?
Shaking my head, I bat down the nerves that flare in my stomach. “How many people are we expecting?”