Chapter 3
Chapter Three
“Philomena Joiner.”
I look up so fast, I nearly give myself whiplash.
A twinge of pain travels up my neck. Only one woman could pack that much authority, disappointment, and unchecked love in two words.
I set my pen down and close the store ledger, giving the woman in a black velour jogging suit and matching rhinestone-studded sneakers my full attention.
Her short white hair is curled to perfection, grazing her chin and contrasting with her walnut-brown skin.
Silver-framed cat-eye glasses perch on her delicate nose.
Full lips form a thin line, and perfectly arched brows dip low.
She leans heavily on her duck-headed cane for balance as she looms in the doorway with a presence far bigger than her five-foot-six inches.
“Hey, Grams.” I set my work on the desk and rise.
Between customers I’d been hiding in the back to avoid the stares through the window.
How had I missed the bell ringing out front?
Her dark brown eyes pin me to the spot. Suddenly, I’m five and standing in front of the remains of her favorite vase, which I knocked off the table.
It’s astounding how our elders can take us back to childhood with just one look or a phrase.
She taps her cane on the floor. “What is this I hear about you accosting members of our community?”
Grimacing, I suck air in through my teeth and push it out slowly.
“That is not what happened.” I walk to her, offering my arm.
She grips it, and I guide her to the cushy leather office chair I vacated.
Balancing with her cane, she eases herself into a sitting position like royalty.
Spine straight, head up, and face fixed in a serious expression, she studies me relentlessly, just like she did when I was younger and spinning a tale.
“Do explain.” Annunciating every word with the poise only a former English teacher who moonlighted as a drama teacher could achieve, she waits elegantly for my response.
“An odd man I’d never seen before loitered around the store, watching my every move for weeks. When I saw him again that morning, I felt the need to defend myself.
“Whatever happened to introducing yourself and asking a few questions, granddaughter?” A long-suffering sigh follows her question.
Shoulders slumping, I twine my fingers together behind my back. “Gram, when’s the last time you ran into a total stranger in town?”
She sniffs. “Chance Falls is safe.”
“That’s the start of every true crime documentary set in a small town.”
Gram smacks her lips. I straighten. My mouth always gets me into trouble.
“Chance Falls isn’t like other places. We’ve told you this your entire life. I don’t understand why you choose not to believe it.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from retorting with a disrespectful statement. Here we go.
“There’s magic in the mountains and the forests.
Blessings woven into our way of life that bring prosperity and provide protection to the people of this town.
” She narrows her eyes. “You still don’t believe?
Even with the physical sign of their touch.
” She runs her fingers over her temples, indicating my birthmark.
“Grams, I’ll be honest here, these days I’m not feeling very favored or touched by magic.” I hold up my hand. “And I’ve yet to see this”—I tug at my white hair—“bring anything other than questions.”
“Baby, there are times you have to realize what’s happening to you is not rejection, but redirection. When the universe doesn’t want you somewhere, it’ll keep its foot on your neck until you come up for air.” She balances her hands over the head of her cane.
Closing my eyes, I inhale, forcing the rage simmering under the surface further down. “I don’t see it that way, Grams.”
“You’re still hurting, so you’re not ready to see the truth. It’ll come with more time. You’ll see, you are exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
I wish I could have faith in that. But the months have sucked my sparkle, and the optimism I used to live by, into the abyss. Watching the world I spent years building topple and go up in flames changed my brain chemistry.
I can no longer be the woman I once was.
Not when the dreams I had for family, marriage, and a successful career have all flatlined.
At thirty-nine, I’m looking forty in the face and starting over from scratch.
What in the hell did I spend all my time working toward?
Currently, I’m the town pariah, getting scolded and lectured over leaving my dad to work himself into a right state.
“I hope you’re right, Grams.”
Her face shifts, and the mood in the room changes. “People with that birthmark have always had a rocky road. It’s difficult being the chosen one in the family.”
“What do you mean?” Dad’s always been as happy as a clam in mud. I inherited this piece of white fluff from him—white fluff that refuses to be dyed.
“Your dad used to have other dreams too.”
“Since when?” It’s the first time I’ve heard anything like this.
She bites her lower lip. “This is his story to tell. I just wanted you to understand you’re not alone. Ask him sometime.” Clearing her throat, she smiles. “What matters most is how you plan to make it up to this young man.”
Flummoxed, I let her switch topics. “I apologized—”
She peers over her glasses, and I swear the room drops ten degrees. “I don’t know,” I say in a muted tone.
“You’re a smart girl. Put that brain to use. The girls at the coffee shop won’t stop talking about this.” She scowls. “I can’t have anyone talking badly about my grandbaby.” Her indignation at her friends over me lessens the sting of her censure.
“Knock, knock, Joiners. No one told me we were having a party.” Dar’s sweet voice slices through the tension.
“Is that my Dara?” Grams beams. I step aside to let my navy suit-clad friend hug Grams.
“It’s been too long since I saw you, Grams.” Dar pulls back and takes Grams’ hands in hers.
“The inn keeps you busy.” Gram smiles. Pride shines in the depths of her eyes. “How are the fancy aids of yours treating you?” Gram removes her hand, gesturing toward her own simple hearing device.
“Good. My hearing remains stable for now.”
“Let me see that pretty model of yours.”
Dara tucks her thick strands behind her ear, showing off the shiny chrome violet devices that help her combat hearing loss.
“Whoo. I love it.” Grams claps.
Dar grins. “Thank you. I’m actually here to steal this one for lunch. We have a video chat with Brie.”
“Tell Cheesy that I miss her. I hope she’s not forgetting about us while she’s drinking wine and visiting the Eiffel Tower.”
I laugh. “Never. She’s excited to finish up her studies and come home.”
Grams nods primly. “Good. It’s time the three musketeers were back together again.
Lord knows we need it. I don’t like the cold blowing in on the wind.
The towns are not happy with us. Our success relies on community anchors.
Groups of people working toward a common goal create a certain energy that keeps the balance. ” It’s the Founding Line Rule
“Balance of what, Grams?” Her words make little sense to me, but her eyes are clear, and her mind is sound as a steel drum.
“Stability.” She smiles, and I know the topic is closed for now. “I won’t hold you. I have a coffee date of my own at Honey Moon with the girls.”
We help her up and leave the office together. I remain quiet, allowing the two of them to catch up.
I call down one of the aisles as I pass it to the door, “Pete. I’m headed out for lunch. It’ll be an hour or so.”
The college student pops his head out of the aisle he’s re-stocking. “I’ve got it covered, Phil.” The bright russet curls bob with his nod.
God, was I ever this young? Rosy-cheeked with bright blue eyes and a wide grin, it’s so obvious he’s a Meadowes.
One of the founding families, their farm is life’s blood to many of the shops in town.
Leaving the store, we step out into the sunshine-laden fall day.
Bright oranges, reds, and yellows blend on trees along the sidewalk like an autumnal painting.
The maple leaves dance in the window, showing off.
Shoving my hands in the pockets of my overalls, I hold my head high, ignoring the eyes fixed on me.
Keeping my gaze straight ahead, I avoid looking into the window of Reel Haven.
Gram crosses the street, headed to spend time with the same women she’s been best friends with since high school.
I tilt my head up toward the sunshine, enjoying the pop of warmth contrasting with the crisp autumn breeze.
“Things seemed tense in the office,” Dar says.
“Yeah. She was expressing her disappointment over Pepper Gate. I know I need to make amends. But it’s tough when I know next to nothing about the man.”
“Then you should get to know him.”
“Ugh. Not you too.”
“They do say a way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. Maybe start there?” Dar suggests.
I roll my eyes. “I’ve given up on appealing to a man’s heart. The ones I’ve dated never seem to be the one.”
She flashes me a sympathetic look. “You’ll change your mind, eventually, when you find one who’s worthy. I know you’ve always wanted a family.” Dar pauses. “I do too.”
Her whispered admission feels like a confession. I stumble.
She smiles. “Surprise.”
Slowing our steps, I drag out the walk, pausing beside tall trees a few yards from the market.
After her first pregnancy ended in a stillbirth, babies were a touchy subject.
A year after the devastating blow, she’d divorced her high school sweetheart and thrown herself into work.
We’d allowed her to set the pace for discussing the painful topic.
With grief counseling and a fantastic therapist, she slowly came back from the depression that had settled on her shoulders like a crushing weight for months afterward.
Just thinking about Jeremy pisses me off.
He wasn’t ready for the adult responsibilities he’d taken on when he walked her down the aisle at twenty-one.
He’d done long-lasting damage. When she started to date occasionally, we all breathed an enormous sigh of relief.
But it’d been ages since she had anyone semi-serious.
“When the pain of loss lessens, you find actual clarity. Don’t count yourself out of reaching your dreams yet.”
“Why haven’t you said anything before now?” I ask, genuinely shocked by her reveal as we pause on the sidewalk outside the market. She’d always seemed so perfectly content with her life as it was.
“There have been no prospects for marriage that made it feel relevant. So, I kept it close to my chest.” She tilts her head. “But I can tell you’re in the same rocky place I once was.”
“Thank you for sharing that.” I reach out and link my arms in hers. “You know I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
She smiles. “I know. That goes both ways. Let’s browse the gift section in here, so you can get back into the town’s good graces.”
We went together, walking to the back of the store. I browse the rotating black wire racks and wooden shelves full of kits and knick-knacks. Cinnamon pinecones and pumpkin spice candles blend to create the ultimate fall aroma.
I eye the row of journals, dismissing them along with shaving kits and wallets.
“This would be perfect for a white elephant gift,” I mutter.
“This requires thoughtful consideration.” Dar taps her cheek with her index finger.
“Oh, I’m giving it plenty of thought,” I grumble.
My phone vibrates in my front pocket. I fish it out and accept the video chat. The market is one of the few places where we can get enough reception to take a call like this. Which is why it’s not unusual to have conversations toward the back of the building.
“Brie, Brie,” we say in unison.
She grins. Her peaches-and-cream skin and light brown eyes glow. Dark reddish-brown waves frame her round face. “There’re my girls. I miss you two.” Brie’s brow wrinkles. “Why are you standing in the toy section?”
“I need a gift that says, ‘sorry I pepper-sprayed you,’” I answer bluntly.
“Wait,” Brie snickers. “What?”
I purse my lips. “There was an incident—”
“She sprayed a very attractive blonde man with killer green eyes, a body to drool over, and a granite jaw with pepper spray.”
Growling in the back of my throat, I shake my head. “I am telling you I never touched that trigger. There was a malfunction.”
“Wow,” Brie breathes the word between laughter. “Maybe consider eye goggles and a mask then,” she suggests, face flushed.
“No, that insinuates I might attack him again.” I hold up my hand. “Which I do not intend to do.”
Dar giggles.
“No. It just says, ‘I’m worried about this happening to you in the future,’” Brie insists.
Dar bursts into a deep belly laugh.
“Why am I friends with you two again?” Disgusted, I scowl at them.
“Oh no.” Dar turns to face me. “You’ve signed up for a lifetime subscription to us.”
Brie nods her agreement.
“Yeah. Yeah.” I wave a hand at them. “What’s your E.T.A., Brie? We’re ready to see you in person again.”
Brie sobers. “A little under six months, provided I don’t bomb any major courses.”
Dar snorts. “Please, you eat, sleep, and dream cheese.”
“I take that as the highest compliment.” She gives a shaky smile, and the nervousness she’s trying to hide rears its head.
“I knew you would,” Dar replies smoothly.
“Take me out on the back patio so I can see the fall leaves. I miss the local scenery,” Brie says wistfully.
“Yes, your cheese highness.” I bow my head.
“How’s that sweet-faced goddaughter of yours and her mother? I miss seeing their faces,” Brie adds.
I smile. Thankfully, they’d both taken to the only real friend I’d made and kept in Raleigh, North Carolina .
“Good, exhausted, and amused.” Story’s round face appears in my mind. My heart aches for my curvy best friend. She works hard to provide for her child. It doesn’t leave much time for self-care or rest. I sigh.
“What’s going on with Story?” Brie brushes a wavy strand of her coppery reddish-brown hair behind her ear.
“Work’s been a lot for her recently. The small boutique hotel asks more from her every couple of months without matching the pay.”
“Ugh.” Brie’s face wrinkles. “I hate that for her.”
“Me too.” I nod my agreement.
As we head outside, I launch into Journee’s latest hijinks. The black cloud I live under thins, allowing rays of sunshine to pierce the gloom. If only briefly, I can sense happiness at the end of the long, dark tunnel I’ve been traveling.