Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Winnie ate her turkey club sandwich carefully as she looked over her schedule, making certain that she didn’t get any of her lunch on the papers. This was extra important today, as she had requested extra tomatoes, since they were perfectly in season and every bite tasted of summer.
This afternoon, she had to do a bunch of things that were all part of her least favorite tasks in her job.
She had to order office supplies. Boring.
She had to check the procedures for rescuing any historical artifacts in the event of a fire, flood, or other disaster.
Boring, mostly because nothing had changed since she’d done so last year, but was required to do so annually anyway.
She had to approve payroll for the paid employees and sign off on volunteer hours for the volunteers. Also boring.
Winnie loved working at the historical society, but there were some days that just did not have enough history for her tastes. Today was destined to be one of those days.
She’d known that though, which was why she’d treated herself to an especially delicious lunch. She was eyeing a slice of Key lime pie for dessert too.
It was due to gazing longingly in the direction of the pie carousel that had Winnie see them the moment they walked in the door.
Whit and Britt.
Good gracious, what were they still doing here?
The sight of them made something in Winnie’s brain go a little bit haywire.
She momentarily forgot that she was a grown woman with a good job and a life she mostly loved, except for the occasional bouts of loneliness.
Instead, it was like she was transported immediately back to adolescence, with all the bad haircuts and pimples that went with it.
Hide, her brain told her.
Because diners were, by and large, not made for impromptu hiding, Winnie did this in the only manner she could think of.
She pulled her menu up in front of her face, staring at it like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.
It was an old-fashioned diner menu, the kind that came covered with shiny plastic, and Winnie could see a warped version of her own reflection staring back at her.
What are you doing? she asked the wobbly vision of herself. This was ridiculous. It was so very ridiculous.
And, obviously, it didn’t work either.
“Oh my, can you believe it?” Whit asked in a voice that was too loud for anyone to ignore. “Is that… ? Oh my stars, it is! It’s little Winnie Burnett!”
Oh my stars? Winnie mouthed at her menu reflection-self, rolling her eyes.
Whit and Britt were from Massachusetts, like her.
They weren’t extras from a Gone With the Wind theatrical production.
It was a tiny bit mean, that thought, but it made her feel a little better to stand up to their bullying, even in her head.
Because she was an adult though, she kept that retaliation mental. On the outside, she pasted on a smile and lowered her menu.
“Hi!” she said brightly. “Yes, I’m Winnie. But I’m sorry, you are…”
Okay, maybe she didn’t keep it entirely inside. But didn’t they say the best revenge was living well? She wanted her former bullies to think they hadn’t had any impact on her, long term, no matter that she knew that was wishful thinking at best.
Britt looked a little taken aback, but Whit got this sly look on her face like she knew Winnie was nothing but a big old faker.
“I’m Britt—Brittany Hunnicutt. And this is Whitney Boyd,” Britt said. She had always been a tiny bit less mean than Whit, more of a follower than a leader. “Britt and Whit, remember?”
Winnie waited just another moment before letting recognition dawn on her features. “Oh right,” she said. “From middle school! Gosh, that was such a long time ago. I thought you looked familiar on the tour.”
Whit’s eyes narrowed again. She gave Winnie a look that suggested that she found her a worthy opponent.
That look made Winnie wish that she really had kept her mouth all the way shut, especially as Whit slid into the opposite side of Winnie’s booth without asking if Winnie minded.
Winnie really minded.
Britt hesitated a moment longer, but then followed Whit’s lead. It really was just like middle school.
“So,” Winnie said politely. She could get this back on track… which she meant over with quickly. “What brings you to Magnolia Shore?”
The two women exchanged a look full of scorn.
“Our moms wanted to do a little girls’ trip this summer,” Britt said, sounding highly critical of what sounded, to Winnie, like a really nice idea. “Which, okay, fine, except they wanted to come here.”
The disdain in her voice was clear. She didn’t even bother lowering her voice, even though the diner was more than half full of Magnolia Shore locals. Tourists came into the diner sometimes, but it was still a pretty reliable local haunt.
“Well, it’s a great place for a trip,” Winnie said. She refused to get drawn into their nonsense. She refused. “The beaches are beautiful, and there’s some great local shops, and an art gallery—”
“Oh my gosh, I would never buy art here,” Whit interrupted with a scoff. “Like, what would I even find? Some old lady’s doodle of a seashell?” She rolled her eyes expansively. “No, honey, we live in Boston. You know, where there is culture?”
Winnie liked Boston. It was a city that was rife with history, which was an obvious draw for her. Plus, there were great restaurants.
But just then, she hated Boston, just a little, if only for the misdeed of giving these two horrible snobs a reason to dismiss Winnie’s beloved Magnolia Shore.
“Well, you could always check out some of the local eateries,” she said, forcing brightness into her tone. “There’s tons of great seafood, of course, given how close we are to the ocean.”
Perhaps detecting that Winnie didn’t plan to play along, either by being cowed or by snapping back, Britt and Whit tuned her out and began speaking only to one another.
“Can you even imagine what it must be like living in a place like this?” Whit asked, shuddering with horror. “I would die of boredom in a minute.”
“It really takes a certain kind of person to be happy stuck in a limiting little place like this one,” Britt agreed, pity and false sympathy dripping from her tone. “But I guess some people can get used to anything.”
“I guess so,” Whit said. She turned on Winnie, looking like a shark that scented blood in the water. “But I gather that you must be so proud of that little historical society of yours, huh, Win? That’s so perfect for you.”
Winnie was proud of the historical society, thank you very much, but she knew better than to fall into a trap like the one that Whit was setting.
“I hope you enjoyed the tour the other day,” she said in the same voice she used on the difficult patrons who wanted to prove that they obviously knew more about history than Winnie. They never did, and yet she was never allowed to tell them so.
“Oh, our moms made us do that,” Britt said, tossing her hair.
Use your customer service smile, Winnie reminded herself.
“Well, I hope your moms liked it, then,” she said.
Whit propped her elbow on the table, then leaned forward conspiratorially.
“You were so passionate talking about those dirty old sticks,” she said.
“It totally took me back. You always were way more interested in dusty books and people who had been dead for hundreds of years rather than real people.” She laughed lightly.
“I remember thinking that you would never notice that boys even existed, let along get a boyfriend of your own.” She smiled poisonously.
“Speaking of, are you still single, sweetie? I notice you’re not wearing a ring. ”
She fluttered her own ring finger, which sported an enormous rock.
“My husband is a doctor,” she said. “And Britt here married a lawyer.”
“But he’s totally going to be a judge and not even an old one,” Britt added. “He’s just that important.”
“And we each have two beautiful children,” Whit trilled, then pasted on a falsely sympathetic frown. “But not you, huh?”
Winnie gritted her teeth into an approximation of a smile.
“You know,” she said, “things are going well for me, thanks.”
Britt and Whit exchanged a look. Winnie knew how she had sounded. That was code for yeah, I’m super single, but please go away.
“Well,” Britt said, her voice dripping condescension. “At least you’ve made peace with it, sweetie. It’s so good to be able to accept your lot in life, no matter what circumstances those might end up being.”
“You must feel so brave,” Whit added.
“And if you like it here in Magnolia Sands—”
“It’s Magnolia Shore,” Winnie corrected tersely.
The two women nodded, as if this correction was all the confirmation they needed of Winnie’s pathetic life.
“Of course it is,” Britt said, like she was dealing with a toddler who kept insisting that the sky is green.
There was an awkward pause where Winnie didn’t respond, as she was doing her best to convince herself not to “accidentally” kick one of them under the table.
“Well,” Whit said with the satisfaction of a woman who knew she had won. “It was so great catching up. We’d better go get our seats now, though. Our moms are joining us soon. Toodles!”
This was accompanied by an actual finger wave as the two slid out of the booth and sauntered to their own table on the far side of the restaurant, where they immediately bent their heads together and started whispering furiously, all while sending not at all subtle glances in Winnie’s direction.
Winnie found that this put her off her appetite pretty quickly. Not even the perfect tomatoes could salvage a meal after that.
With a sigh, she left enough money on her table to cover the bill and a tip for the waitress. She gathered up her papers and shoved them in her bag with much less care than she would normally use. Anything to get out of this restaurant as fast as possible, she told herself. Just get out of here.