Chapter 3 #2
“Come and eat while it’s warm,” she tells me. “You can do the window when we’re done.”
I want to argue, but it smells so good, and both of them are looking up at me like they’ll be hurt if I don’t sit.
“Fine,” I say, lowering myself to the blanket.
Taylor passes me a plate and I pile it up with chicken, a warm biscuit, and a generous scoop of homestyle coleslaw. Meg is right, Doc Holliday’s is the best.
Meg tugs a cup out of the cardboard carrier and passes it to Taylor. I get the second one, and she keeps the last one.
“What’s this?” Taylor asks suspiciously.
“Cherry lemonade,” Meg tells her before I can answer. “It’s really good. I promise.”
We both watch as Taylor takes a tiny sip.
“Oh, wow,” she sighs happily before taking a nice long pull.
Meg’s eyes meet mine and I can see that she thinks this is a pretty fun time.
She’s not wrong. It’s sort of nice introducing one of our favorite things to someone who’s never tried it before.
Meg grabs a drumstick and digs in. Her getting messy right away seems to break the ice enough for Taylor to follow suit.
Soon, there’s nothing but the sound of crunching and hums of appreciation accompanying the music on the radio.
I meant to just take a few bites and get to work, but the chicken really hits the spot, and the company isn’t bad either. Taylor practically bubbles over with happiness, and it must be catching because Meg looks just as pleased.
As the eating slows down, the two of them discuss the book Meg is reading, as if they know I’d rather eat and listen than join the conversation.
It’s nice to hear them talk. Taylor asks Meg if she has any predictions about the story, and Meg has about a million, even though I’m sure she can’t be more than a few chapters in.
“Am I right?” Meg asks before finally stopping to take a breath.
“I won’t spoil it,” Taylor says firmly. “But I’m going to write down all your predictions tonight, and when you finish the book we’ll compare. How’s that?”
“Wow,” Meg says, looking sort of impressed that someone was taking her thoughts so seriously. “That would be cool.”
“Excellent,” Taylor says, grabbing another piece of chicken.
I’m glad I got the big box. I wouldn’t have guessed this city girl would be as good an eater as Meg and me, but she’s holding her own.
“You really never had Doc Holliday’s before?” Meg asks Taylor.
“No,” Taylor says after she swallows. “But you’re going to have to tell me where it is because I definitely want to have it again.”
“Where did you live before you came here?” Meg asks.
“New York,” Taylor replies.
I can’t help noticing that she just says it—she’s not waiting for an impressed reaction like a lot of the city folks here do.
“New York City?” Meg asks, giving her one anyway.
“Yes,” Taylor says, nodding. “Queens, anyway, not Manhattan.”
“But that’s so cool,” Meg says.
Taylor nods, but she has a kind of sad look in her eyes that wasn’t there before.
“Did you have a bookstore there too?” Meg asks.
Taylor’s expression stiffens so slightly that I’m not sure if I actually saw her tense up or just imagined it.
“Who wants to help me with this window?” I ask as I jump to my feet.
Taylor’s gaze moves to me and I swear I see gratitude in her brown eyes.
I guess I changed the subject to protect her. That surprises me. I’ve managed to stamp out most of my gallant instincts over the years.
“I’ll help,” Meg offers right away.
“Let’s wash our hands first,” I tell her, moving to clean up the meal on the blanket.
“I’ll get all this,” Taylor says. “The bathroom is in the back on the right.”
By the time Meg and I get back from washing our hands, Taylor’s got everything tidied up and she’s standing over by the window like she’s planning to help too.
When I arrive at her side she looks up at me and sends my heart thundering again.
“I’ve got this,” I growl at her as I rip my eyes away. “Why don’t you finish…whatever you were doing before the tree.”
“Sure,” she says softly, moving away.
Guilt shimmers around the edges of my thoughts, but I ignore it. I’m here to replace a window. Then I need to get Meg home. That’s it.
“Can I help Taylor instead?” Meg asks.
“Sure,” I tell her. “I’ve got this.”
“But your dad might need help,” Taylor says.
“I don’t,” I say quickly, without turning around.
I apply myself to the task at hand. I’m trying not to listen to the girl explain to my daughter about her ideas for the pretty floors and the bookshelves and her big project, but it’s not really a big enough space to get away from it.
“Will they go back exactly like they were?” Meg asks as they work.
“I don’t think so,” Taylor says, her voice kind of dreamy. “I want to get a lot more books and set things up in a way that works for this town.”
To do that, she’d have to actually know the town first. But if she’s like the rest of the New Yorkers who come here for the summer or the holidays, she’s not going to do the logical thing and just find out by spending time with the locals.
She’s going to tell us what we want and how we want it by stocking the store however she wants, and then she’ll be bent out of shape when it doesn’t fly off the shelves in the off-season.
“What works for this town?” Meg asks, sounding mesmerized by Taylor’s business plan.
“I have no idea,” Taylor says briskly. “But I’m going to start finding out first thing tomorrow.”
She sounds so confident, it’s all I can do not to turn around.
“How?” Meg asks.
“I’m going to start at the library,” Taylor tells her. “I hope that someone there might be able to tell me what kind of books people in Angel Mountain like to read. And then I can make sure to get a lot of those kinds of books.”
I have to admit, that’s a pretty good plan.
“Smart,” Meg says admiringly.
“It might help,” Taylor says. “On the other hand, the real answer I’ll be getting is what kind of books people in Angel Mountain like to borrow, not what they like to buy. Do you have any ideas?”
“You could ask people,” Meg suggests.
“Like just go up to them?” Taylor asks. “In New York, they would roll their eyes at me and keep walking.”
That makes Meg giggle.
“But you might be onto something. If there’s actually a good way to ask,” Taylor wonders out loud.
“You could put it in the newspaper,” Meg suggests.
“That’s an interesting idea,” Taylor tells her. “Hey, can you help me move these books from the shelf to the floor?”
The two of them get to work in earnest, and I apply myself to my own task, trying my best to focus on the radio instead of their voices.
But it’s not easy. Their light patter is irritatingly seductive, especially the way Taylor acknowledges everything Meg says, like she’s an adult.
I feel like a guard dog being offered a steak to lure it away from its post.
But that won’t happen, my heart is under lock and key. I know what my future holds. And it’s not a too-young city girl with stars in her eyes.
I won’t let it be.