Chapter 8 #2
I snort and give him a playful shove. I’d forgotten just how easy it is being with Nate. Maybe after everything, there’s still a chance for us to be friends.
Ollie corners Spam under the bleachers. They’re the same old metal bleachers that Nate and I kissed under a long time ago. I wonder if he remembers, too.
I clip Spam’s leash back in place. Now that he’s gotten to run for a while, he walks along at my pace, not pulling at the leash.
Ollie, too, trots obediently next to Nate as we make our way toward High Street.
There’s a section of the road that runs straight through town, and it’s where most of the businesses are located.
Our downtown, if you will, complete with one bar, one grocery store, one coffee shop, and the town hall. Zero stoplights.
“Two bars now,” Nate says, pointing, as though he can hear my thoughts.
“That’s the church.”
He shakes his head, a smile playing on his lips.
“It was. Still is, technically. The Church Bar. The actual church combined forces or congregations or whatever with the Methodist church in Twin Falls, and they moved everything over there. Brett and Jack Towson bought the building and turned it into a bar about four years ago. They said this town needed more than just High Times.”
“They’re not wrong,” I muse, looking at the structure. From the outside, it still looks like an old-fashioned church, stained glass and steeple and all. “Should we grab a drink?”
Nate shakes his head as we walk past The Church Bar and the town hall. “I figured we’d just stop in and say hi to Marge. I told her you were coming into town. Plus, she lets dogs in. I don’t think Church does.”
I look at Spam, hoping he can hold it together for a few minutes. “Don’t ruin this for dogs everywhere.”
As we reach the coffee shop, I smile at the placard above the door. The building was a bookstore before Marge turned it into a cafe, and she’s never replaced the BOOKS sign that hangs out front.
Nate turns back to me, his hand on the door handle. “Oh. If she asks you about a scone, just tell her it was delicious.”
The scone is delicious. Marge gives me a new one because I’m a terrible liar and she could tell right away that Nate had absolutely not shared the scone she gave him.
“I told him that was for you,” she says, flicking a towel at Nate. “No more freebies for you if you don’t share.”
Nate just smiles. Marge is widely known for handing out freebies constantly—coffee, pastries, anything she has. It doesn’t need to be a special occasion. She just loves giving. I’m pretty sure the scone incident won’t change that at all.
I used to wonder how she stayed in business, but I suspect it’s a combination of the low cost of living up here and the fact that she overcharges tourists, who are used to paying six dollars for their latte.
Since the town is within a forty-minute drive of two different ski resorts, we get an influx of visitors during ski season.
Most rent out homes, happy to deal with the roads to avoid the high cost of staying at the resorts.
“Sit. Tell me your life story since you left town,” Marge says, directing me to a table.
She sits across from me, hands folded beneath her chin, her gaze fixed on me.
Bringing the steaming mug of herbal tea to my lips, I think about the last decade of my life. I’m not sure there’s much of a story to tell, but Nate nudges my knee under the table, and I realize I’ve been silent, thinking, while Marge waits for an answer.
“Well, I went to Colorado State for college. Animal science major.”
Marge nods. “You always were into horses and all of that.”
“And then I worked a few different jobs after college. Most recently at an animal shelter.” I look down at Spam, who’s finally run out of energy and is curled in my lap. “That’s where I found this little guy.”
“How about love? Any relationships? Have you got yourself a beau?”
I’m not sure anyone says “beau” anymore, but I’ll let that go. At least she didn’t ask if anyone is courting me. I think that’s what they called it back in her days.
“No one serious.”
A look passes across Nate’s face, so quickly that I almost miss it. It’s too quick for me to analyze it, but it was almost like a wall came up. Just for a second.
Nate looks down at Ollie, the picture of obedience. “I’m going to take Ollie out. I think he needs to relieve himself.”
Marge waves them off as she bombards me with questions, and I don’t have time to contemplate what Nate’s look meant, or his hasty escape.
The bell above the door jingles as a customer walks in. Other than me, Marge, and the newcomer, the place is empty, which I suppose makes sense for evening in a coffee shop.
“What do you need?” Marge calls, not moving from her chair.
I look over. I don’t recognize the woman, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been in town.
There’s bound to be some changes in the population.
It’s a relief, actually. I need to get myself on even footing before I’m ready to open myself up to the questions that invariably crop up when you return home after a long time away.
“Was hoping you had some sandwiches still available? Turkey on rye, maybe?” the woman asks, reaching for her wallet.
“They’re in the fridge behind the counter. Help yourself.”
I hide my smile. People who live in big cities their entire lives will never understand the way we live in towns like this.
I mean, not we, obviously. Other people. I live in Denver now, even if I don’t currently have a place to live there.
A pang hits my heart at the realization that I’m no longer a local in HiLo.
The woman tries to pay Marge, who waves her off. Eventually, the woman just leaves a twenty-dollar bill in the tip jar on the counter.
Nate holds the door for the woman as she leaves, and he enters. “How’s it going? Marge, was that a sandwich Lorna was holding? You have any more of those?”
Marge rolls her eyes, smiling. “You kids will eat me out of house and home someday. But yeah, I have a few left. What kind you want?”
Standing from the table, Marge walks back behind the counter and lists off the options.
They all sound delicious, and I can’t decide.
After a minute of both of us wavering on which ones we want, Marge rolls her eyes again and hands us two sandwiches each.
“They’ll go bad after today. You may as well take them.” She regards me with an appraising stare. “Rory, what are your plans while you’re in HiLo?”
I haven’t really thought about it, actually. Just…change my location, change my perspective. Yep, that about covers it.
Oh, and train the dog.
“Not much. Just catching up with people,” I say.
That seems believable. And it’s true, to an extent.
Marge gives a sharp nod, her blue eyes piercing. “Good. Come back tomorrow. And don’t bring the dog.”
Why does everyone hate Spam? He’s adorable.
We thank her for the sandwiches and head for the door as Spam whines. Maybe he does need some work.
“Oh, and Rory?” she calls. “Come with an open mind. There’s lots you need to know.”