Chapter 3
The men in the parking lot aren’t the only ones who have taken notice of Garrett. Margaret at Rabbittown Pharmacy calls Suzanne at Rabbittown Grocery to ask about the fancy car parked in one of the diagonal spots out front. Margaret assumes the driver must be lost, but Suzanne thinks it’s someone’s kinfolks coming to visit. They’re both disappointed when the car backs out of its spot at 4:25, leaving them without an answer.
Nora could have been ready to meet Garrett out front when he arrived, but she was busy. Not with work. She finished that hours ago. Instead, she spent her afternoon thinking about everything that could go wrong once he got there, and she is surprised to see him drive up at 4:29. He’s still wearing his gray suit, but he’s ditched the jacket and rolled up his shirtsleeves, easily making him the hottest man she’s ever gone out with. She tosses her crossbody over her head and meets him at the front door before she can talk herself out of it.
“We can walk,” Nora says, locking up the store and gesturing to the other end of the Square. “The Tasty Dip is a couple of blocks from here.”
“Lead the way.”
For a moment, they walk down the sidewalk in silence. She doesn’t remember how dates are supposed to go.
“So,” Garrett says, “have you always sold coffins?”
It’s a reasonable question, but it makes Nora laugh. He laughs, too. Maybe this won’t be the worst social outing in the history of the human species. But it’s only just begun.
“They’re caskets, actually,” Nora says.
“Is there a difference?”
“Caskets have the hinge on the side. Coffins are the old wooden things where vampires sleep. The ones you see at Halloween.”
“I had no idea.”
They meander down the sidewalk at a slower pace than either of them is used to. Garrett puts his hands in his pockets, which keeps his knuckles from brushing against Nora’s as they walk. Nora considers the Square for the first time in a while. The brick buildings with white-trimmed windows have looked mostly the same for her whole life. A few years ago, the Rabbittown Square Council did allow the Chat & Brew to paint their outdoor furniture royal blue in support of the high school football team, but the change proved quite controversial and is unlikely to be repeated. If Nora weren’t using so much of her brain to think about her conversational skills, she might wonder what Rabbittown looks like to an outsider. She might be self-conscious about her sleepy small town, with its cracked sidewalks and faded awnings.
“It’s a family business,” Nora says. “My grandparents started it, and it’s made its way down to me. You can ask whatever you want about it. I’m used to the questions.”
“What do people normally ask?”
“Do I have to touch the bodies? No. Is it sad? Sometimes. Is it creepy? Not unless you’re creeped out by paperwork.”
“Seems like they’re thinking of a haunted house.”
“Maybe so.”
“It didn’t seem haunted either time I was there.”
“If it is, I don’t know about it. Maybe it’s a quiet ghost.”
“Maybe the ghost likes soap operas, too,” he says.
“He probably does by now.”
Garrett smiles at her, and she can’t help but blush.
They have to walk the length of the Square to reach the Tasty Dip, so they pass all the townspeople who have come together to make sense of what happened to Frank. Nora waves hello to a group of ladies from church who have congregated outside of the post office to exchange information. It will make its way to Nora eventually.
“All of these people are normally at home,” Nora says. When she’s nervous, she fills the empty space with any words she can get to come out. “Frank, the guy who owns Pearl Café, passed away last night. Everyone is a little freaked out.”
“I’m sorry. Were you close?” Garrett asks, reciting the question everyone always asks when they hear about a death. Maybe to judge the mourner’s response against what their response should be, Nora thinks. Or to situate the mourner’s experience in relation to the questioner’s own experiences with death. How much empathy do they require? Will the situation affect their relationship with the mourner and for how long?
“Yeah, I’ve spent a lot of my life in that restaurant,” Nora says. She remembers how quiet the café seemed yesterday with Frank resting upstairs, and maybe she should have gone to check on him. Is everyone who ate at the restaurant yesterday wondering the same thing? If there’s something any of them could have done. There in the cluster of memories, she gets a glimpse of Garrett walking past the window and down the hill. “Wait, you were up there yesterday.”
“I was,” he says, staring down at the sidewalk.
“Did you talk to Frank?”
“I did.”
Nora gives him a moment to add to his sentence, but he doesn’t. “Did he look okay to you?”
“I don’t know.” He says this in the same way a petulant child might speak to a scolding parent. “I’m not sure what he usually looks like.”
Maybe Nora doesn’t understand dating, but she doesn’t think it should involve irritation. “Sorry, I’m being nosy.”
“You don’t have to apologize.”
“We can change the subject.” She isn’t getting anywhere anyway.
They walk in awkward silence to join the group of people lined up on the grass in front of the Tasty Dip. They’ve been serving ice cream since Nora’s grandparents were young and haven’t done much in the way of renovations since then. The paint is chipping, but the ice cream tastes fine.
“Popular place,” Garrett says, browsing the laminated menu duct-taped to the front of the building.
The group of children in line in front of them alternate between jumping up and down and screaming with anticipation.
“Yeah, there’s always a line,” Nora says, over the sound of the screaming kids. “It moves fast, though.” Parents and babysitters use the Tasty Dip as a reprieve from being stuck in the house with energetic kids, especially when school is out for summer. Some of the parents sit in their cars and read or listen to podcasts or call in to meetings while their children run laps around the building with their faces covered in ice cream.
“I’m not in a hurry,” he says.
He looks down to meet her eyes, and her heart stutters. She forces herself to breathe. “What do you normally get?” he asks.
“Depends. I’ve pretty much tried everything. The dipped cone is a classic. The double chocolate ice cream sandwich. Hot fudge sundae.”
“You must like chocolate,” he says.
“I do. But they do have things that aren’t chocolate, or so I’m told.”
“I’ll try the hot fudge sundae. I trust you.”
Maybe he’s falling for her “normal” act.
They sit down at an open picnic table, and Nora tries to eat her ice cream sandwich as gracefully as possible. The dark chocolate ice cream drips down her fingers, and she catches it with a napkin before the mess gets worse.
“What do you like besides chocolate?” Garrett asks.
“I think it’s your turn,” she says, surprising herself. “You know a lot about me already, and I know nothing about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
She thinks for a moment. “The basics, I guess. What do you do? Where are you from?”
“All right,” he begins. “I’m in logistics consulting, and it’s as boring as it sounds.”
“What does that mean?”
“I work for a consulting firm, and they send me to make sure things get from one place to the next without any problems.”
She nods her understanding, even though they both know she doesn’t fully understand this vague description.
“I grew up in Raleigh,” he continues. “My family still lives there. I move around a lot, but I’ve been in Anniston for about a month.”
“How do you like it so far?”
“Seems like a nice town, but this is probably the first thing I’ve done outside of work since I’ve been here.”
“Have you been downtown yet?”
“I’ve just driven through it.”
“It’s grown over the past few years. There are some good restaurants and a brewery, and I think a new bookstore is supposed to open soon.”
“Maybe that should be our next adventure.”
The butterflies in her stomach test their wings. “I could be your tour guide.”
“I want the unauthorized version. The one with all the insider gossip.”
“That one costs extra.”
He considers this, scooping ice cream into his mouth and sliding the spoon out slowly to collect every bit of hot fudge. “I’m sure we can arrange something.”
Nora can’t be sure if he’s trying to suggest something else entirely or if attractive men just eat in an attractive way, so she attempts to land somewhere in the middle while keeping the rest of her body in check. “You have my number. How’s the sundae?”
“A good choice.” He scrapes his spoon against the nearly empty plastic cup. He freezes, and a crease forms between his brows. “I’m sorry. I should have offered you some.”
She laughs at his expression. “It’s fine. I didn’t offer you mine, either.”
“That’s true. You were fast.”
“I just didn’t want it to melt all over my hands.”
He laughs. “I’m sure that’s the reason.” He picks up a napkin and wipes each finger individually. “Okay, I answered questions. It’s your turn.”
“What would you like to know?”
“You’re from Rabbittown?”
“Yes, I’ve been in Alabama my whole life. Grew up here, college in Tuscaloosa, moved to Birmingham for a while, and now I’m back.”
“How long have you been back?”
“About a year.”
“Did you go to school for business?”
“Finance,” she says. “I was a financial adviser for a few years.”
“Not for you?”
She knows she has to be careful here unless she wants to swing the conversation back to death, which always seems to be lurking. “It was fine, but I like running things myself.”
“No boss?”
“No boss.” She nods.
A group of high schoolers take over the picnic table next to them, and it’s hard to look away from the laughing and the ice cream throwing. Is it appropriate to discipline someone else’s kids? Would Garrett judge her for it?
“What do you do when you’re not at work?” Garrett asks.
She answers this one honestly: “I watch a lot of TV.”
“Like what? Besides General Hospital .”
“I never miss General Hospital . Otherwise, it’s mostly sports.”
“Which sports?”
“I’m not picky. My favorites are football and basketball, probably, but I’ve been getting more into baseball. I like softball. Golf sometimes. Whatever is on.”
“Who are your teams?”
“Obviously Alabama,” she says.
“Obviously.”
“Sorry, is this boring? Do you like sports?”
“Not boring.” He smiles. “I’m a Panthers fan.”
“You’re not an Auburn fan, are you?”
“No. I went to UNC.”
“Thank God.”
“What would you have done?” he asks.
“Bailed as quickly as possible.”
It has occurred to her that she might just be interested in Garrett because he’s the only option she’s had in a while, but when he laughs, she feels the butterflies flapping around in her stomach like she’s in a Meg Ryan movie.
“I get it. I wouldn’t go out with a Duke fan.”
She laughs. “Neither would I.”
He reaches across the table and takes her hand, flipping it over to reveal a swipe of ice cream below her thumb. “You missed a spot.” He meets her eyes before using his napkin to wipe it away.
“Thank you. Unfortunately, I’m a messy person. I get the impression you’re not.”
He smiles. “Why do you say that?”
She examines him from head to toe, leaning down to peek at his shoes under the table. “You carry business cards. Your shiny car. Your clothes.”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?” He looks down at himself.
“Nothing,” she laughs. “That’s the point. They’re perfect.”
“I do like for things to be in order. Is there something wrong with that?”
“No, it’s cute, actually.” Before she can say anything else, a dirty plastic spoon lands on the table between them.
A teenager with long blond hair appears, retrieving the spoon. “Sorry, Nora. I was trying to hit Theo.”
“I think you know what I’m going to say about that.”
“That I shouldn’t hit anybody?”
“Bingo.”
“Sorry!” she calls, running back into the middle of the group of teenagers now throwing anything they can get their hands on.
“Friends of yours?” Garrett asks, watching the scene in front of them.
“I know most of their parents.”
“They don’t seem worried about that.”
Nora turns to him. “Not that I’m in a hurry to leave, but how would you feel about continuing this conversation somewhere away from here? To protect your perfect shoes from flying ice cream?”
“I think that’s a great idea. Why don’t you test out your tour-guide skills? Give me a tour of Rabbittown?”
“You want to see more of this?” She gestures around them at the Tasty Dip’s surroundings. The unruly kids. The duct-taped signs on the building. The gravel parking lot.
“More of you, actually. But the tour couldn’t hurt.”
She would love to play it cool, but she can’t stop the smile that takes over her face. He answers with one of his own, and she feels it all over her body. She wants to kiss him. To lean across the table and kiss him right here in front of everyone at the Tasty Dip. Is that appropriate for a first date? Could she even pull it off? Sure that she would find a way to make it awkward for both of them, she takes a deep breath instead. “You asked for it. Let’s go.”
On their walk back to the store, Nora goes as slowly as she can, doing her best to come up with something to say about every building or bench or tree with any kind of significance. They stand in front of the hair salon, and she tries to think of anything she knows about it besides the definition of a hair salon.
“Both of my grandmothers used to get their hair done here on Tuesdays, so they could gossip. It’s the first place I would go if I needed information about something in town.”
He looks at the building, doing a decent job of pretending to be interested. “I think they might be talking about you tomorrow. It feels like everyone is watching us.”
She glances down the street and makes eye contact with the people in front of the grocery store. “I’m sorry about that. They’re nosy. They don’t mean anything by it.” She starts to worry that this might be the deciding factor in whatever happens next between them. That he’s probably gotten weirded out by prying eyes on their first date.
“Might as well give them something to talk about,” Garrett says, reaching over to take her hand and bringing her racing thoughts to a screeching halt.
Nora smiles at him. “You’re trouble. I can tell.”
He shrugs. “I guess you’ll have to find out for sure.”
Garrett walks her to her car, parked behind the store, and she thanks him for the ice cream. She lets go of his hand to dig her car keys out of her purse, and when she looks up, he’s staring down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He smiles. “I’m trying to kiss you, and you’re not making it easy.”
“Well, that was direct,” she says, willing her face to stay its normal color.
“You asked.”
Nora puts her purse on top of the car and takes a step toward him. “You can kiss me.”
Garrett closes the gap between them and puts his hand on her cheek in one smooth motion. He kisses her once, softly, politely. Before she can think herself out of it, she takes a chance and wraps her arms around him, and then they’re really kissing. Like in a Julia Roberts movie.
After a moment of making out in a parking lot like teenagers, he pulls away and takes a breath. “Was that too much for a first date?”
She shakes her head and kisses him again. She doesn’t want to stop kissing him. This is what normal women do, isn’t it? She’s seen it in rom-coms her whole life. They meet someone they like, and the someone likes them back. They smile, they kiss. They live, they laugh, they love. Nora feels like the women she sees on Instagram, the ones who have perfect lives and far too much happiness and positivity for sadness to overtake them.
“When can I see you again?” Garrett asks against her lips. He steps back to give them both space to think coherent thoughts.
“When are you free?” She has no life, but she doesn’t want to seem too eager.
“Is tomorrow too soon?”
She laughs. “No, I can see you tomorrow.”
“Can I call you tonight?”
She nods, and he leans down for another kiss. As he pulls away, she can see from the look in his eyes that he feels the same way. Like it’s way too soon, but there’s something here.