Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Audrey
I can do this.
Chimes shaped like pizza toppings—a pepperoni, an olive, and a cute tiny mushroom—rattle against the glass door to Piper’s Pizza.
Notes of oregano perfume the air, and the sound of a midday soap opera rings out through the restaurant as I step inside.
The building is small with a one-room dining area holding seven booths, eleven tables, and five barstools at a counter.
A large display case, which takes up premium real estate next to the bar, is chock-full of homemade pies and a chocolate cake so delicious I consider ordering dessert and nothing else.
“Welcome to Piper’s,” a middle-aged woman wearing a black waist apron with the word “Piper’s” written in sparkly gold paint says with a bright smile. “Have a seat wherever you’d like.”
“Thanks.”
I clutch my wallet and survey the room for the perfect spot to have the very first solo lunch in public in my life.
I prefer a table by the windows so I can take in the adorable small town, but my nerves demand I choose a booth in the corner.
The farther away I am from people, the less likely they are to see me, and that’s one less reason to be self-conscious.
When Hartley suggested Piper’s this morning as a good lunch spot in town, I worried that it would be packed.
After all, he informed me, Sugar Creek has only two eateries—Piper’s and Patsy’s.
He promised that they’re both dead between the hours of two and four, and if I timed my arrival perfectly, I might not see a single soul except for the waitstaff.
I settle into the corner booth, avoiding eye contact with the farmers holding court at the round table in the center of the room.
Their conversation is loud and their laughter raucous in the best way.
It reminds me of sitting with Astrid and Gianna in Stupey’s, our favorite Nashville restaurant, when they’re two drinks in.
I take a deep breath, blowing it out slowly. Everything is going fine. Just relax.
“Hey, hon.” The woman from the counter approaches me with an extended hand. A menu dangles from her long, thin fingers. “I’m Lisa. Haven’t seen you around here before.”
I take the menu and clear my throat. “I’ve never been here before. Just visiting for a while, and a friend recommended this place for lunch.”
She smiles. “A friend, huh?”
“Hartley Adler. He owns the Blackbird Ranch just outside of town.”
Her immediate laughter earns a comment from one of the men at the round table. She rolls her eyes, motioning at him to hush, but keeps her attention on me.
“Hartley?” she asks, grinning. “He was in here this morning for his usual sausage, egg, and cheese.” She leans forward with a curious look in her eye. “How do you know him?”
“I’m a friend of his brother’s girlfriend, if that makes sense.”
“Are you talking about Astrid?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’m talking about Astrid. You know her?”
“Girl, everyone in Sugar Creek knows her—and if you’re a friend of Astrid’s, you’re a friend of mine,” she says, taking out her pad and pen.
“Now, back to business because I have a bunch of salad dressings to refill before I can clock out in an hour. And I can’t get out of here late because I have a hot date tonight. ”
“Oh,” I say, smiling. “Please, don’t let me keep you. Let’s hurry this along.”
She points at the menu. “We don’t move to the dinner menu until five o’clock, but that really just adds your choice of coleslaw or potato salad with any of the sandwiches instead of just fries.” She winks. “But I can get you that now if you really want it. I know people.”
She turns to the round table and says something to them about their dessert order. It gives me a moment to take a breath and acclimate to my surroundings. Maybe it’s because Lisa knows Astrid, I’m not sure, but I’m relieved at the warm welcome.
“Sorry,” Lisa says. “They come in here every day and think they run the place.”
“We do run the damn place!” One of the men in bib overalls shouts, making the rest of them laugh. “Don’t let Lisa pull your leg!”
“Charlie, you’re gonna shut your mouth if you want dessert,” Lisa says over her shoulder.
I giggle at their antics. “I’m here for a pizza. Pepperoni and cheese, please.”
“Oh, good choice. Keeping it classic. Do you want a seven-inch personal pizza or a small? It’s twelve inches.”
“Personal is fine, and an iced tea, please.”
“Of course.” She scribbles on her notepad. “No cheese sticks or breaded mushrooms?”
I shake my head and hand her the menu. “I’m good with just the pizza today.”
“All right. Pizza and tea are coming up. Feel free to holler if you need anything.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
She bops over to Charlie and smacks him on the back of the head as she walks by. The rest of the table laughs at the encounter, and I find myself smiling, too.
I take out my phone and open the search tab I was using at the cabin to look up lingerie. I washed the blue set yesterday and wore it again today. It’s amazing how a pretty bra and panties can change your entire vibe. It’s an instant confidence booster. I need more of that.
But as soon as I open the window, my phone buzzes with an incoming text from my brother.
Drew: Just got my schedule nailed down for my new job. I can officially join everyone on Laurent Isle.
My fingers fly over the keys.
Every year, our family goes to our cottage on Laurent Isle for a month in the summer. It’s nonnegotiable … for me, anyway. The one year I tried to get out of it, Mom and Dad guilt-tripped me for months. Drew, though? Drew does what Drew wants—and they usually cheer him on.
As irritating as that is, it’s better with him there.
Me: This would be a mean joke if you aren’t serious.
Drew: I’m serious. It took a little coaxing, but I freed up two weeks in July. Just told Mom.
“She’s going to be unmanageable today,” I mutter as I tap out my response. Every time she gets her way, which is 99 percent of the time, it only reinforces her behavior. It’s a diabolical circle.
Me: I’m excited. Glad it worked out.
Drew: How are things with you? Are you still on your sabbatical?
Me: I am. Still haven’t told Mom about it and don’t plan to. So
Drew: You know you could’ve come to Boston if you needed a getaway. I was there until yesterday. The movers got the rest of my shit on Monday morning. I’m meeting them at the new place tomorrow.
I grimace, wishing I could hop on a flight to Boston.
I love the city so much. But the last time I was there, the whole Seth debacle went down.
The possibility of running into him is enough to make me want to puke, especially now that he’s married to someone else—which, good for him.
I think I dodged a bullet there, anyway.
“Here’s your tea,” Lisa says.
I look up as she sets it in front of me. “Thank you.”
“I put your order in. If you need anything else, I’ll be around.”
Me: That’s fun! I can’t wait to see your new house. It looks beautiful.
Drew: I still have my apartment in Boston. Think I’ll keep it even though I’m not there anymore. You’re free to use it whenever. Most of the furniture is still there. I just took my personal stuff, my bed—that sort of thing.
Me: Thanks. I might take you up on that sometime.
Me: Have fun.
Drew: Be safe.
I reach for my tea when Mom’s name flashes across the screen. That was even faster than expected.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, sloshing the tea around my glass. The irony of doing something so childish while on the phone with Mrs. Manners is amusing.
“Hello, darling. How are you this afternoon?”
I glance around the diner and fight a chuckle. If she knew where I was and that I was alone, she’d lose her marbles. All of them. She might even borrow some of Dad’s and lose those, too.
Jessica Van doesn’t do small towns. She doesn’t frequent diners that have blue pleather booths, and there’s no way she’d be caught dead having lunch alone—in jeans, no less.
If she knew her only daughter was doing such ordinary things, she’d be on a flight to Nashville to save me from myself and Sugar Creek …
and the nonorganic sauce and full-fat cheese I’m about to consume.
“I’m great, thank you. Just having some lunch. What about you?” I ask.
“That sounds fun. Who are you dining with today?”
I look up and make eye contact with Lisa. “A new friend. You haven’t met her.”
“That’s lovely,” Mom says, her voice practiced and smooth. “The club put in new pickleball courts, and your father and I sponsored one of them. The dedication is this afternoon. Your father, of course, is in the office, so I’m heading over with Fern Wallace for the festivities.”
“Sounds like a grand time.” I make a face like I’ve bitten a lemon. That sounds like the worst way to spend the day. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself.”
“I’m sure I will, too.” Her heels clatter against the floor in the background. “I spoke with Andrew earlier today, and he mentioned that he’s free to join us this summer. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have both of our children with us for another year.”
“He texted me a bit ago. I’m excited he’s coming, too.”
“Sometimes I wish we had more children. I just love the thought of having a house full of grandchildren and having the best time spoiling them all rotten.” She sighs wistfully.
I start to speak, but stop. The words on the tip of my tongue linger there most of the time, and each time I start to say them, tears gather in the corners of my eyes, and I hesitate. How do you bring up a sibling that you aren’t supposed to know about?
I’ve known since I was eleven years old that Drew and I had a sibling.
We were goofing off in the attic when I found a trunk.
At the bottom was a folder containing Anna Marie's birth certificate. Anna Marie. My twin sister. Behind it was a death certificate showing that she’d only lived for fifteen days.