Chapter Two
Beverly
“Where are you right now?” my sister Madison asks.
I hold my cell against my ear and bend low to tie my white sneaker that’s come undone. “I’m outside while my class is in music. I just had to call you.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
I lean back against the iron bench, a gift to the school when the courtyard was transformed into a garden space, dedicated to students past, present, and future.
It’s one of my favorite spots, with its surrounding shrubs, emerging fall flowers, and pebbled paths, offering a serene escape in the middle of campus.
It’s also the perfect quiet spot to call my sister.
“Unfortunately, I think I’m more like Mom than I thought I was.”
“What?” Madison laughs.
“Yep. I finally get it, Maddy.”
“What are you talking about?”
I close my eyes and savor the slight autumn breeze skirting across my face. A particular Hollywood actor’s million-dollar smile comes to mind.
“Ridge Wilson.” I sigh, his name escaping my mouth like a 1950s teenybopper, fangirling over her favorite actor on the cover of Life magazine.
“Ridge Wilson? You mean the actor?”
“Yes.”
“What about him?”
I open my eyes and sit up straight. “He’s filming a movie here at our school.”
“Get out! Have you told Mom?”
“No,” I say with a little too much force, trying to keep my cool.
“Why not? You know how obsessed she is with celebrities. She’ll love it.”
“I met him, Madison. I shook hands with Ridge Wilson, and he invited me to watch him work this weekend.”
There’s silence on the other end, and I wonder if the call has dropped. “Maddy?”
“I’m here,” she laughs. “I’m just… Wow! I’m stunned.”
“Wow is right. And get this, I spilled coffee all over his white shirt.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did. And he was so nice about it. I offered to get his shirt cleaned or buy him a new one, and he just shrugged it off.”
“The shirt?”
“No,” I laugh, immediate images of a shirtless Ridge Wilson coming to mind. Oh my… I have to fan myself with my free hand to stop from swooning.
“He told me not to worry about it. And then he told me I was beautiful and invited me to see him work this weekend at the school.” I stand and pace, my shoes crunching along the pebbled path. “Madison, should I do it? Should I show up and watch him?”
“Of course, you should! What an incredible opportunity to get a glimpse behind the scenes. Maybe even get a few autographs for Mom. She’s gonna flip.”
“I almost flipped,” I interrupt.
“No, you didn’t.”
“Oh, yes, I did. I now understand what our mother has been feeling all these years. Being in the presence of a celebrity was like… being in front of royalty.”
“Well, he is Hollywood royalty.”
“Girl, I almost bowed.” I hear Madison snort-laugh and grin.
“Seriously, is there something in the Adler DNA that makes us lose it when we’re around someone famous?
I mean, I don’t think I can casually show up on the set by myself.
I’m a nobody. I’m a bumbling kindergarten teacher who wears sneakers with dresses and ruins white shirts with spilled coffee. ”
“Stop it, Bev. You are much more than that. Mr. Wilson would be lucky to have you on his set.”
I fist my free hand in my lap. “So I should go?”
“Absolutely.”
I look up at the blue sky above the courtyard filled with fluffy white clouds. My mind notices the shape of a bunny in one of the formations, making me think of the heart stain on Ridge’s shirt again. I groan.
“What should I wear?”
“Whatever you’re comfortable in.”
“Maddy…,” I moan. I wish my sister still lived closer so she could help me.
“Okay, okay. I know! Why don’t you wear that pretty peasant blouse you wore the last time you were here in Heartsboro? Remember? We went out to dinner at the Wild Daisy Café, and you received numerous compliments. And wear your hair down. You’ll look so pretty and romantic.”
Her word choice of looking pretty and romantic makes me pause. Maybe I can do this?
“Okay. Should I bring him something? A gift certificate for a new shirt? A stain remover pen?”
Madison giggles. “No. He already told you not to worry about his shirt. But there is something you might want to consider.”
“What?”
“Your banana bread.”
“Banana bread?” I scowl.
“Yes. It’s the perfect gift for someone so far away from home. It’s your signature baked item, and I think he’d be grateful for a taste of something homemade. You know, comfort food.”
I blink several times, knowing my sister is on to something. I hate going anywhere empty-handed, and our grandmother’s banana bread recipe is always a hit. Maybe even for an all-American Hollywood heartthrob?
“You got this, Beverly, okay? I hate to cut our conversation short, but I’ve gotta go check on baby Joey. It’s feeding time, and my boobs are letting me know it.”
I picture my beautiful sister at her flower farm with her loving husband and son, her life completely changed since she left her corporate, high-stress job a little over a year ago.
I always thought living in the country would eventually become my path, not hers.
It’s funny how life throws those curveballs.
Since I was a young girl, I’ve had visions of a small-town lifestyle.
A house with a wraparound porch with views as far as the eye could see.
Growing my own vegetables and baking to my heart’s desire.
Finally getting a shelter kitten to call my own.
Teaching at a rural, country school and spending my weekends antiquing or piddling in my garden.
I never cared for living in the city of Atlanta.
But it’s where we were raised. It’s where I work and where my sister used to live.
And now, having never lived anywhere but the city, the idea of small-town life is something I’ve been living vicariously through Madison since she settled down in Heartsboro.
Luckily, I visit her often, especially since she had baby Joey.
Her world is a fantasy compared to my reality.
“Go feed your boy,” I say with a wistful smile. “And don’t forget to call me back tonight. I’d like to share the dates of my fall break with you. I can stay the entire week if you want me to.”
Madison squeals. “Yes! I can’t wait. You’re not going to recognize Joey. I can’t believe he’s already two months old.”
“I can’t either. I hate it that you’re so far away.”
“Bev, it’s only an hour and forty-five minutes.”
“I know. But it’s not the same.”
“But it can be.”
My sister has been begging me to move to Heartsboro since I stayed with her last summer during my break from the regular school year.
I was with her when she gave birth, the incredible blessing of becoming an aunt the best thing that has ever happened to me.
And I love her husband, George. He’s a kind and gentle soul, always welcoming.
Always telling me he loves me. We’re family, and they are the most important people in my world.
During my summer in Heartsboro, we scouted some nearby properties for sale, but nothing felt quite right. Nothing felt like home. Atlanta doesn’t feel like home anymore, either, since Madison moved away.
I can hear baby Joey’s little mewls as Madison multitasks and continues our conversation. “We’ll talk some more tonight, okay?” she says.
“Okay. Give George and Joey my love.”
“I will. I love you, Bev.”
“Love you back.”
The line goes dead, and I exhale a melancholy sigh as I lean against the park bench again and stare at the clouds. A big, fat cumulus formation floats above me, its shape reminding me of the coffee stain on Ridge’s shirt.
What is it with the random hearts lately?
I shake my head and mumble, “Wishful thinking.”