Chapter 6
Sabrina scanned her best friend’s face, and her own features softened. “I’m sorry. You’re right, and you shouldn’t have to see him every day. We’ll find someone else to help with the renovations. I’ll help you find someone.”
Rebecca breathed a sigh of relief, the familiar feeling of her friend’s support warming her chest. “Thank you.”
“Team Rebecca,” Sabrina said firmly. “Always.”
Rebecca looked around the tidy diner. She didn’t want to be down here anymore. She turned back to her friend. “Come upstairs,” she said. “I have a surprise for you.”
She turned off the lights, bathing the diner in darkness yet again.
—
“Oh, for me? You shouldn’t have!”
Sabrina was perched on the edge of Rebecca’s bed, eyes now bright with delight. “Although, if there aren’t any brigadeiros from Mary’s in this bag of gifts you brought me from the city, our friendship ends tonight.”
Rebecca smiled at her friend. “Obviously there are,” she said.
As she watched Sabrina pull treasure after treasure from the large canvas shopping bag she had been filling with items she knew her friend would love during her long absence from Bramley Hollow, she began to feel a little lighter.
“There’s peperoncini piccanti from Terroni, and—oh my God, panettone from Tito!” Sabrina put the cake box down, then clapped her hands and dove into the bag again, letting out another happy yelp. “The baking spice box from Spice Trader! You’re spoiling me.”
She unscrewed a jar of cardamom-sugar blend, closed her eyes, and inhaled.
“Yes. This is what I needed. I’ve been looking for a spice to make a version of my apple blossoms that’s a little different from the usual.
” She reached deeper into the bag. “Fire XO sauce? I adore you. You’re single-handedly keeping my condiment addiction alive. ”
“Look at everything you do for me,” Rebecca said, gesturing around the room.
Next, Sabrina unearthed a block of aged parmigiano and whistled. “Good cheese. My love language. Ooh, and look at all these jellies and compotes. I see a charcuterie board in our future.”
“Giving you food-related gifts always ends up being the gift that keeps on giving. To me,” Rebecca said with a smile.
“You’ll come to dinner at the orchard this week, right? My parents want to see you, too.”
“I was thinking I’d come for dinner every day,” Rebecca said with a laugh. “I’m not even sure any of the appliances here actually work.”
“Which reminds me,” Sabrina said, setting aside the bag. “I ordered dinner for us from Mooney’s, and it should be arriving any minute.” She began itemizing dishes on her fingers. “Baked penne bianchi, eggplant Parm, salad, and a quattro stagioni pizza.”
“I should be used to you by now, but there are only two of us here. You know that, right?”
“Leftovers.” Sabrina dug once more into the bag of gifts and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Perfect. Come on. Let’s see if we can find some plates and napkins.”
—
Later that night, after Rebecca and Sabrina had stuffed themselves with Italian food and finished the wine, Rebecca walked her friend downstairs and outside.
In the quiet of the autumn night, after Sabrina had headed off toward the orchard, Rebecca stood still.
And found herself involuntarily scanning the road for headlights.
She knew what she was looking for: a certain gray pickup truck.
Even if seeing it would cause her to dart inside like a startled cat. But the road was empty.
Upstairs, alone in the apartment, the silence pressed in.
She felt calmer, more settled in Bramley Hollow after her night with Sabrina; they’d had a nice night together.
But saying no to hiring Cort left a problem on her hands, and it was a big one.
Who was she going to hire? The clock was ticking.
Crispin was threatening more fines. It was a problem for tomorrow—but it was still a problem.
Rebecca tried to push it from her mind as she cleaned up the kitchen and got ready for bed.
On her way to the bathroom, she paused at the corkboard near the bedroom door.
The photos were exactly as they’d always been: There were pictures from school dances, orchard picnics, Lenore’s birthday parties.
Evidence of their lives braided together in years of shared history.
She was glad Sabrina had left the corkboard as it was.
She stepped closer, paused at one picture, and smiled.
It was of the two of them at around fourteen years old, mid-laugh, flashlights in hand.
This had been around the time they’d developed a Morse-style code to signal out their bedroom windows at each other.
With the diner just at the edge of town and the orchard property beginning in the next field, they could see the light in each other’s bedroom windows at night.
The old code ran through her mind automatically:
Two short flashes.
Three long.
Are you there?
Rebecca touched the corner of the photo, her fingertip brushing the faded gloss.
She walked to the window, and there it was: the old flashlight, at rest on the sill.
When she picked it up and tested it, it was dead, of course.
It had been sitting there gathering dust for years.
She put it down and stared out into the darkness, at the window that was no longer her friend’s room, because they were all grown up now.
Still, she wished to see a light, flashing in the darkness, across the field and above the apple trees.
A much-needed reminder that Rebecca was not as alone as she felt.