Chapter 33
The bell over the diner door chimed as they stepped inside, the sound too bright for how Rebecca suddenly felt at the sight of Cort in his work clothes—a white T-shirt and faded cargo pants, covered in sawdust—gathering up his tools. When he saw them walk in, his expression stayed blank.
“Hey, you two,” he said, lifting his toolbox.
Rebecca couldn’t help but notice the floors. They were done, gleaming from one end of the room to the other with new wood. She noticed Cort had cleared most of his tools and supplies away, that just a few were left.
He was finished.
“The floors look great,” she said weakly.
“Yep. All done. Glad you’re happy.”
She hated how formal things felt between them, but what could she do to change it? And she was grateful that Sabrina was there beside her, her voice suddenly all business.
“You’ll send Rebecca your invoice?”
His gaze skittered to hers, then back to Rebecca, as if maybe he, too, didn’t want it to be all over.
Not just yet. But also, as if he didn’t know how to change it, either.
“Sure thing. I usually do my invoicing on Fridays, but I might be a little late this week, what with the Autumn Festival and all.”
“That’s right. Happens every year. And we’re all set—we’ve got our dresses for the gala.”
Another flicker across his expression. He looked at the dress bag over Rebecca’s arm, then away. “I’ll need to get Pip new dress clothes, I think. That kid grows like a weed.”
Cort cleared his throat and said, “I’ll get out of your way, just need to load a few more things into my truck.”
It didn’t take long. Soon all traces of Cort were gone from the diner. Except, of course, the careful work he had done. The gleaming floorboards, the patched ceiling, the perfectly smoothed drywall. “Thank you,” was all Rebecca could manage. He just nodded, and then he left.
—
After Cort was gone, Sabrina turned to Rebecca. “That was intense. I couldn’t think of anything to say.”
“It’s okay. You didn’t have to. Just you being here helped.
And now”—she took a small spin around the diner—“it’s all done.
Cort did the job I hired him to do. I cleaned out the kitchen.
I’ve got a few more days of work upstairs, and then I might ask for your help with some staging…
” She trailed off. “I should feel triumphant, shouldn’t I?
I’m going to make Crispin’s deadline; I’ll have the building listed before the thirty-day leave is over. But it just doesn’t feel good.”
Sabrina sighed, too, sinking onto a bar stool. “Tell me you have wine. I think we need it.”
“I do,” Rebecca said, reaching under the counter and coming up with a bottle of apple wine. “And I want you to talk to me. You said in the car you had something going on. I’m here for you. What’s up?”
She opened a bottle and poured wine and joined Sabrina on an adjoining bar stool.
—
Outside, the windows held the last of the golden autumn light, and it made the diner glow softly from within. The new floorboards looked like honey had been spilled over them.
Sabrina took a sip of wine and leaned back in her chair. “I guess the truth is, I’ve been feeling…stuck.”
Rebecca looked up from her glass. “You? That doesn’t seem possible.”
Sabrina smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“That’s what everyone thinks. That because I’m always planning something—the hay maze, new products to sell in the market, new ideas for the orchard, new apple variations, new everything—it must mean I’m fulfilled.
But the truth is, I keep adding things because I want more, not because I’m satisfied. ”
Rebecca let that sink in. “I guess I just don’t see how you could do more.”
“Yes, exactly. I think, when it comes to Calloway’s, I may have done it all.
Which is possibly why I’ve gone so extravagant with the hay maze this year.
It’s like…it’s like I feel it’s my last.” Now her blue eyes were bright, and she was blinking back tears.
“Only, what if I step away? What then? My parents always talk about retiring, but what will that mean?”
“Have you talked about that with them?”
She shook her head forcefully, so hard her curls flew around her face. “No. Instead, I just do more. Think of more things to add. Make it so complicated they can’t retire, and I have to work there forever…” She tucked her hair back behind her ears. “I think I’ve painted myself into a corner.”
Rebecca thought of her recent conversations with both Marion and James. “Well, if there’s one thing I know about your parents, it’s that they’re easy to talk to.”
“I just have no idea what exactly it is I need to say.”
“You can start with the fact that you’re not happy.”
“But then what?”
Rebecca thought for a moment. “When are you happiest?”
Sabrina didn’t hesitate. “When I’m cooking. Baking. Feeding people. When the kitchen’s a mess and everyone’s hovering, waiting for whatever delicious thing I’m going to give them.” She laughed softly. “When something comes out of the oven and I get to watch people take the first bite.”
Rebecca smiled. “You’ve always been that way. I think that’s why you liked being here, at the diner, so much.”
Sabrina nodded. “It’s true.” She looked around. “I know it hasn’t been open for years, but I still can’t believe it’s going to be gone. Or, not gone, but…different. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.”
“No, I get it. I feel the same. And what you were saying, about feeling stuck. I get that, too. I’m feeling that same way, about my life in Toronto. And I have no idea what to do about it.”
“When are you happiest?” Sabrina asked.
Rebecca considered it. “The other day, at the thrift shop. When I was arranging the books, I lost track of time. I think I may have even started fantasizing that I was working at my own bookstore.” She smiled.
“And I couldn’t stop thinking about that window display at the library, how it made me want to go inside, even though I wasn’t planning to.
How book displays can do that. The idea, the draw of stories.
It’s like I’ve realized that what I do—teaching stories—it’s not what I really want to do.
I want to talk about stories and share stories, yes.
But I don’t want to have to tell people how I feel about them, I want to just focus on the joy and the lightness of it. My life has started to feel too heavy.”
Sabrina nodded slowly, sipped more wine, while Rebecca stood and went behind the counter again, to find the drawings Pip had discovered the week before. She had saved them, not quite sure what to do with them, not ready to throw them away.
When she saw them, Sabrina’s eyes lit up.
“Manderley Meringue! I was a genius! Becca, I love this.” She flipped through the pages, her mood growing lighter.
Eventually, she looked up. “Wouldn’t it be so fun, to just…
” She shook one of the pages. “Do this? Make this our life? I mean, I’m mostly kidding.
I know we can’t make the drawings we did of a bookstore meets diner when we were kids a reality—but seeing this, it just feels so… so pure, you know?”
Rebecca nodded. “I do know. And honestly, these past few weeks have made me wonder what exactly might be possible for me. I don’t know what I want, but there’s a big part of me that just doesn’t feel ready to leave here.”
At this, Sabrina shrieked, “Really?!” while Rebecca laughed.
Rebecca looked around the diner. “It wasn’t just what was happening with Cort, because even with that over, I still feel it. I keep thinking about staying here. About turning this place into something, while it’s still mine. But…what if I’m just romanticizing small-town life?”
Now it was Sabrina’s turn to laugh. “I can tell you that it’s not romantic—except when it came to you and Cort, actually. And I’m sorry if that hurts, but it’s true.”
Rebecca thought about her longing, before she left Toronto, to have felt the sort of passion that burned but was worth it. She allowed herself a sad smile. “It’s okay.” Then she paused. “Do you ever think about leaving Bramley Hollow?”
“No,” Sabrina said. “Honestly, I don’t. I’m a homebody, I guess. I want to stay here, but I want things to be different. And I don’t really know what to do about that.”
“Maybe the first step, for both of us, is just saying it out loud,” Rebecca said.
Sabrina reached over and grabbed Rebecca’s wrist to give it a gentle squeeze. “You might be right. We don’t have to decide anything tonight. What can we decide, anyway? But we can talk.”
“It’s one of the things we do best.”
Rebecca smiled at her friend. And for a moment, she wanted to say more. But she decided to wait, not analyze or overthink.
“You’ll come on Saturday, won’t you?” Sabrina asked her. “To the dance? I saw how heavy things were, between you and Cort—but I still think you might have fun, and I want you there, with me. Please don’t let how hard things are with Cort keep you away.”
“I’ll be there, I promise,” Rebecca said, even though her heart felt like a lead weight at the idea of it.
“And I’ll be there beside you, like always. It’ll be okay.” Sabrina put down her wineglass and hesitated. “But, Becca? It felt heavy, like I said—but what it didn’t feel was finished.”
“Trust me, it is.”
“You should talk to him,” Sabrina said.
“What is there left to say? It doesn’t make sense, to try to talk about something we already decided on. Stepping away from each other.”
“Oh, why do you always have to be so smart? Will you ever give that heart of yours a chance to weigh in?”
Rebecca smiled but shook her head. “I already did. I let my heart lead the way, but I have to protect it now.”
Sabrina swirled the wine in her glass. “Okay,” she said. “I understand.” Then she looked up. “Just promise you won’t let your feelings for Cort chase you out of here again. I need you.”
Rebecca squeezed her friend’s hand. “I need you, too. And I promise. I’m not running away. Even if I do have a lot of my life to figure out.”