Chapter 11
Juliet
The weekend flies by.
Friday night, we come home late from the party to a cake having been delivered at our door with pink frosting that reads, “Congrats, Mayor, on Your Many, Many, Many Years of Living.”
Along with the cake is a birthday card that plays, “Cat’s in the Cradle” when it’s opened, revealing a photo of an ugly tomcat with bulging eyes. A word bubble from the feral creature says, “Happy Birthday, to our favorite and longest running Meow-or Monroe.”
Both are left anonymous.
“I hate cats,” Dad mumbles.
Whoever sent these “gifts” must have known that, too.
While he isn’t thrilled, I have a good laugh as we eat a slice each of the delicious chocolate dessert—though we’re already stuffed from the cheesecake at the party.
Saturday morning, we watch episodes of our favorite comfort shows—NCIS and Psych—before heading to the Walkers’ for the last barbecue of the season.
Liv is there, too, so we get more time to talk and catch up, enjoying each other’s company as the brothers break out in a game of football, which I gladly sit out.
I don’t need to keep up with the boys any longer.
Tate drapes his arm around Liv’s shoulder every once in a while, but after speaking with Liv, I don’t press for more information. They obviously have their own reasons to keep things under wraps, and I don’t need to pry.
On Sunday, Dad and I attend service in the old white church, and I get to greet even more friends I haven’t seen in months.
But I don’t see Archer. Nor do Dad and I talk about Archer.
We don’t talk about any guy, for that matter, and it makes for one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time. It sure beats watching Blake play pickleball for hours because he “needs the support from my girlfriend on the sidelines.”
Monday arrives quickly, and I ride into town with Dad because apparently, I’m enjoying reliving my high school days so much, I need to recreate them entirely by being driven everywhere.
I never needed a car in Boston because the T was faster, and thanks to Miss Sunfire, my car-less streak is continuing strong.
Anyway, I don’t mind the extra time I get with Dad this morning. I make him French toast so he can be sustained through lunch by more than his half-eaten banana.
“You’re sure you’re not going to feel neglected today?” Dad asks for the hundredth time. “You can come with me to the office, you know.”
He feels bad because he actually has a job—which I don’t—and other obligations—which I also don’t.
“I’ll be fine, Dad. I’ve got a few missing assignments to turn in for school, so I’ll just be at the library most of the day. And Landrie said she’ll be free for lunch, so I’m all set.”
I obviously have no assignments, but I really am eating with Landrie. I’d tell Dad the truth someday about how I’m really spending the rest of my time, but I don’t want to burst the perfect bubble of delusion we’ve made for ourselves this weekend.
“If you’re sure,” he says. “I just have a lot of things to get caught up on. The Fall Festival has been a bit of a fiasco getting it up off the ground this year.”
“Why? I thought it’s like clockwork now.”
Dad hesitates. “It usually is. But this year, Rosie Harper was volunteered to head it up, and she...” I can tell he’s struggling for words.
“She’s a very nice woman with a lot of ambition.
But I get the sense that she’s having a harder time than she’s letting on with how much she’s bitten off with the inn.
” He shrugs. “I’m sure she’ll pull it off, though. She seems to have a lot of grit.”
I smile. Dad always sees the best in people.
Most people.
He parks at Town Hall, and we say goodbye to each other before I walk toward the library directly across the street. Luckily, his office window looks out the other side.
Glancing over my shoulder, I make sure he’s inside before I walk right past the library and head farther down the street to Keller’s Bakehouse.
I love this shop in the fall. Mrs. Keller always has the most incredible window display—though it’s the same every year.
Some shops don’t decorate until October, but in my opinion, autumn starts the second mid-August hits.
I take a minute to admire the fall leaves, baked goods, and tiered trays in the window before stepping away.
The bell above the door jingles as I enter the bakehouse, and Mrs. Keller looks up at me from behind the counter. “Juliet! I’d heard you were back. Good to have you home.”
“Thank you.” I walk farther in, eying the various muffins, sticky buns, and donuts in the glass window display. “I’m glad to be back—especially here. Everything looks incredible, as usual.”
That’s not an exaggeration. Keller’s Bakehouse has the best baked goods in all of Vermont.
“What can I get for you?”
I’m not hungry, but I can’t just come in here looking for answers without buying something.
I choose an apple muffin, a cider bar, and a maple cinnamon sticky bun. As Mrs. Keller gathers the goods, I look around for the person I was hoping to see—the one person who doesn’t seem to be here.
“I should’ve known you’d choose a sticky bun,” Mrs. Keller says, ringing them up. “They seem to be your dad’s favorite, too.”
I tip my head to the side as I pay. “Are they?”
“He comes in every other day to get two of them. Always the same. He’s a creature of habit, isn’t he, our mayor?”
I give a little laugh, but it’s forced. Dad is a creature of habit, but not for pastries. He’s more of an ice cream guy. I guess he could have changed in the last couple of years, but two maple cinnamon sticky buns?
“Have a good day, hon,” Mrs. Keller says.
I return the words absentmindedly, my mind revving harder. Just as I turn to leave, though, the back door opens, and Sadie appears.
Her red eyebrows disappear behind her thick bangs when she sees me. “Juliet,” she greets, her surprise shifting quickly to a welcoming grin. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You, too,” I greet.
Stopping my departure, I turn to face her directly.
Her tan, canvas apron is covered in flour and chocolate as she wipes her hands on a spare cloth.
I always thought her pretty in high school, but now, with her hair an even brighter shade of copper and light freckles spattering her nose, I can’t help but feel slightly intimidated.
Why would Archer not want to date her? She’s tall, mature enough to hold her own job, and confident around horses—all qualities I absolutely don’t have.
Sadie watches me curiously, which I guess is warranted, since I’m staring at her. I blink and step out of my thoughts. “It was good to see you at my dad’s party the other day. I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk.”
“There’s always so many people at those events, it’s impossible to get to everybody.”
Pretty, kind, and generous. Archer must be blind. That makes me feel better about him not noticing me before.
“The cheesecakes were a huge hit,” I say, glancing at Mrs. Keller, though she’s already helping another customer. “I hope you had a good time. Especially with your date.”
I hope I don’t sound jealous. I’m not. Ish.
Sadie catches on as she takes a few steps toward me, a bit of white powder on her cheek. I can’t tell if it’s powdered sugar or flour. Or is it baking powder? I’m no baker.
Yet another thing Sadie has on me.
“Archer was a great sport to go with me,” she says. “Shows what a great friend he is.”
Clearly, she’s read between the lines and is now comforting me.
How embarrassing.
“He was definitely out of his comfort zone, though,” she continues. “I had to bribe him to get him there. Maple bars seem to be his kryptonite.”
An idea plants in my mind. “He likes those, does he?”
“Can never have enough, I hear.”
Excellent. “Mrs. Keller?” I ask as the other customer leaves. “Can I also get half a dozen maple bars?”
“Sure thing.”
I pay for my new bribery instruments and raise them toward Sadie as I back up toward the door. “Thanks for the tip.”
I push the door open with my backside, but she raises a finger to stop me. “Oh, word to the wise. Archer’s usually at the stables, but on Mondays, he likes to eat lunch at Maple Bar and Grill around one.” She shrugs. “In case anyone wanted to know.”
I have a feeling Sadie and I are going to become quick friends.
I thank her again, then leave the bakery. I’ve got a couple hours to kill before heading to the restaurant, but knowing Archer will be there beats my original plan of trying to find him—grabbing my little pink bike from home and riding it to Horseshoe Holler.
I stand outside the bakehouse and send a quick text to Landrie.
Juliet
I’m so sorry, but do you think we can postpone lunch until tomorrow?
Landrie
OMGosh, yes, please. I’m SWAMPED with all this wedding planning and totally forgot that I’ve got a dress fitting with Gina Stevenson I can’t miss today in Burlington. So sorry, girl! Tomorrow it is! Can’t wait to catch up on all the thiiiiiings!
I heart her response. I’m excited to hear all about the wedding—especially after finding out it’ll be held at Horseshoe Holler.
But that can wait for another day.
With a spring in my step, I make for the library. I may not have school assignments to finish, but I figure going there will alleviate any remaining guilt I have for lying to Dad.
Halfway up Main, however, I spy him leaving Town Hall.
He looks left and right down the sidewalk, then casts a lingering gaze across the street at the library doors.
Finally, gaze still darting from side-to-side, he climbs into his SUV and pulls out onto the road, heading in the opposite direction of where I stand.
I narrow my eyes at his departing car and license plate—MAYR4LF. Is it just me, or did he look insanely suspicious just now?
My thoughts rush as I absentmindedly arrive at the library, walking past decorated boards with flyers I don’t pay much attention to.
“Morning,” greeted Maggie, one of the librarians, in a dull tone. She twists her hair and stares down at her phone instead of making any effort to look at me.
Another librarian, Emma Harper, walks nearby, wheeling a cart of children’s books before she sees me. “Hey, girl! I didn’t know you were back.”
“Hi, Emma.”
Like Sadie, Emma has red hair, but hers is more auburn with the locks cut in a cute bob. “How long are you back for?”
“As long as possible. I can’t hack being away from Autumn Ridge.”
“Oh, I was the same way,” Emma says. “Hence why I’m still here.”
She’s eight years older than me and has worked at the library since she was in high school herself. She also left Autumn Ridge for college, though she ended up coming back after graduating.
Maybe I should have asked her for advice on how to stick with my commitments.
“How’s college?”
I tip my head back and forth in silence, not having the heart to lie right now.
“Yeah. I get it. You’re almost finished, though. That must be a relief.”
The relief is knowing I never have to go back. “I needed a break, so I’m taking the semester off.”
“I bet your dad’s so happy to have you home for a while.”
My gears instantly shift. Change is so not like him. Using the dishwasher, skirting around conversations, eating two pastries multiple times a week, sneaking out of work. The obvious answer for anyone is that he’s secretly seeing someone. But Dad has always been so resistant to that.
Unless my leaving really did push him over the edge?
“Well, can I help you find anything?” Emma asks. “Need any recommendations? I can suggest some great YA books I’ve read recently.”
“Thanks, but I’m just browsing.”
“Well, let me know.”
I wander about the library, though my eyes register nothing.
My mind swirls with the possibilities of who Dad’s potential girlfriend can be and how I can broach the subject and receive an actual honest answer from him, but this is going to take some delicacy—not my usual rushing-in-without-a-thought behavior.
Like what I’m doing with Archer.
As I look from book spine to book spine without reading a word, I gently hold the box of maple bars in my hand.
It’s almost time to put my detective skills to work.