Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Okay,” Winnie lectured her reflection sternly. “You can do this. You can be normal! You can make friends.” She paused, assessing. “Well, you can do all those things once you put on a better outfit,” she amended, turning back to her closet for the umpteenth time.
Winnie was learning a distressing fact about her wardrobe: she didn’t own anything that wasn’t either work clothes or the clothes she used to kick around the house, doing chores and laundry and the like.
And that latter category was a touch questionable, in terms of its suitability for going out and about in the world.
Winnie had, during the excavation process she’d undertook looking for something suitable, found a pair of leggings that she thought she might have even owned since college.
And which had a large hole on the left shin. Who even got holes on the shins of their clothing?
In the end, it was choose an imperfect outfit or be late, and the rule follower in Winnie refused to be late.
Especially when this was the first time that she had been invited out by potential friends in…
Well, she couldn’t even remember how long it had been, which was a sign in and of itself.
Since it was summer, she hoped that the loose denim shorts she wore would pass as casual chic, not, say, I usually wear these for gardening.
She paired this with a featherlight sweater that she wore around the office when the air conditioning was working overtime, which she felt would fit the cool breeze coming off the water nicely.
Her tennis shoes were cute, at least; she’d bought a new pair recently when she’d taken a stint giving tours, since she couldn’t handle doing multiple hours of standing, walking, and talking if she was going to be wearing uncomfortable shoes.
She paused to give herself one last look in the mirror, then ruffled her razor-sharp bob, wondering if it would make her look a little more relaxed. She frowned at the messy effect, then smoothed her hair again.
“There’s no use pretending you’re someone you’re not,” she said. Gosh, she was lecturing herself an awful lot tonight. “Either they’ll like you for you, or they won’t.”
Her fear, of course, was that they wouldn’t.
She had been terribly nervous all week after getting an invitation from Diana to the next book club meeting.
She had zipped through the book they were reading, which was a historical romance, something that combined two of Winnie’s very favorite things.
She had even found herself jotting down notes in the margin of things she wanted to discuss with the club.
But as soon as she’d closed the final page on its happily ever after, she’d started to slightly panic.
If you go, and they still don’t like you, it will prove that everyone was right about you. That you’re a loser who doesn’t know how to make friends. That you’re going to be stuck, sad and alone, with your dusty old books forever.
It was when she realized that these voices sounded an awful lot like Britt and Whit that she was able to start to shake them free… even if only slightly.
Besides, Winnie liked dusty old books. And she had been invited to a book club, so maybe this group of women did too.
With this encouraging thought, she tucked her copy of the novel into her handbag and headed to her car. She refused to back down.
Things started to go wrong almost the instant Winnie arrived at Eleanor’s bookshop-to-be.
She got there right behind Diana, which would have been reassuring, since Diana had been the one to invite her in the first place.
But then Winnie saw that Diana was carrying a large bag full of snacks and a bottle of wine.
And Winnie hadn’t brought anything.
“Oh no,” she said, her mind blaring an alarm at her. “Was I supposed to bring something?” She thought frantically back to the text message from Diana. It hadn’t said anything, had it? Had she somehow… missed it? “I’m so sorry, I don’t have anything.”
“Oh, whoops.” Diana looked totally unbothered. “I forgot to tell you. Yeah, we usually all bring something to snack on, but don’t worry. Some of us have definitely missed snack duty before. I think June couldn’t grab anything last time.”
Winnie could tell that Diana was trying to be kind, but the comparison wasn’t exactly fair.
June Caldwell was a single mother with approximately a million jobs, not to mention that she was close friends with the other book club members.
Winnie was just the person they had invited out of pity because they’d watched her get bullied by her tormenters from middle school.
Goodness, it sounded so pathetic when she put it that way.
Winnie pasted a smile on her face, knowing it came out chilly and aloof, but not certain how to fix that problem.
“I’ll remember for next time,” she said stiffly.
If I’m invited back next time, she thought despondently.
Diana gave her a quick, kind look before she got swept into the gathering of women who were already settling into a circle of chairs that was surrounding a table overflowing with snacks. Winnie perched on an overstuffed pink velvet armchair.
“Oh, she swoops in and steals a chair from a little old lady.”
Winnie’s head jerked up to see a silver-haired woman pressing the back of her hand dramatically to her forehead.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry—”
The lady cackled, interrupting Winnie’s efforts to leap to her feet.
“Sorry, honey, I couldn’t resist. That’s not anybody’s seat; they’re all up for grabs.” She gave Winnie a teasing wink. “I’m Miriam Landers, resident senior and most exciting of this whole lot.”
“Rude,” Cadence Meadows said as she entered the room.
“True,” Miriam muttered out of the side of her mouth to Winnie.
Winnie just pasted on that smile again. This group might be close enough for some good-natured teasing, but that felt way above her pay grade.
“Teasing is Miriam’s love language,” Diana reassured her.
Winnie did not necessarily feel super reassured.
“So, Winnie,” Miriam said, propping her chin jauntily on her fist. “What do you like to read?”
Oh, gosh. Winnie had the distinct fear that there was absolutely a wrong answer to this question.
“Uh, I’m mostly a romance reader,” she said.
“Yes!” The older lady actually pumped her fist. It was sort of adorable, Winnie had to admit. “Another romance reader! Did you like the book?”
Miriam’s positive reaction emboldened Winnie. She dug her copy out of her purse.
“Loved it,” she said, flipping idly through the pages.
Miriam looked horrified. “Did you write in the book?” she demanded. “Heathen!”
Winnie froze.
Eleanor came through the door then, a platter of charcuterie in her hands.
“Miriam, don’t tease poor Winnie,” she said, shaking her head at the older woman’s antics. “Winnie, honey, do whatever you want with your own books. Miriam just likes to stir the pot.”
Miriam shrugged, entirely unbothered. “It’s so rare that I meet someone who doesn’t know my gambit,” she admitted. “Forgive me, Winnie, for being a pest.”
“Um,” Winnie said.
Eleanor handed Winnie a glass of wine.
“You’re doing great,” she reassured her. “Miriam really is trying to welcome you. She just forgets what it feels like to be the new kid.”
This time, Miriam did look a little apologetic. “I really am happy you’re here,” she said warmly.
Winnie felt herself start to relax… she even dared make a joke.
“Well, it’s probably been a minute since you’ve been the new kid,” she said.
Miriam looked delighted. “Because I’m old? Goodness, Winnie Burnett, you have hidden depths. Well done.”
Eleanor offered her a wink. “You’ll get the hang of it,” she promised.
Winnie felt a rush of gratitude… and the sudden mental click of her mind reorienting.
Of course Eleanor had seen Winnie as being aggressive when Winnie had drawn her attention to the town rules and regulations.
Eleanor had been, per her own words, the new kid in town.
And Winnie had made the town seem unwelcoming.
“Hey,” she said on impulse. “I’m sorry about giving you a hard time about the fence and stuff.”
Something about the way Eleanor looked at her made Winnie feel really seen.
“Oh, it’s bygones,” Eleanor said dismissively. “Let’s start fresh?”
“Yeah,” Winnie agreed. “That sounds great.”
They shifted gradually into talking about the book, then, although the conversation frequently flitted in and out of personal topics.
Winnie spent more time listening than talking, but she didn’t feel excluded.
The women went out of their way to make her feel included, ultimately.
And gradually, as Winnie listened to June laugh about her son’s new obsession with soccer and watched Cadence blush when her friends teased about her reunion with her husband, Winnie felt herself become, increasingly, one of the group.
It wasn’t instantaneous, of course. These women had history together, had been friends for a long time. Even with Eleanor, the relative newcomer, Winnie could see how the others had formulated a kind of shorthand for communicating.
But it was a start. And it felt good.
Eventually, Winnie felt free to laugh a little more, smile a with a touch less self-consciousness. She didn’t realize it until she was chuckling wryly at a story June was telling about a diner customer’s antics, but then it hit her.
She wasn’t trying to fit in. She was just being herself. And it was going well.
This, apparently, was what friendship was like. True friendship, not the mere acceptance she had been chasing all these years.
Eleanor handed her another glass of wine, and Winnie impulsively clinked her glass against their hosts. Eleanor returned the gesture as if they had done so a thousand times before.
Winnie bit her lip to hide her smile. She was so, so glad that she had come. She even felt brave enough to let herself hope that this was the start of something new and wonderful.