Chapter 50
FIFTY
Love is when my parents help me practice my ballet.
The day before the Fourth of July celebration was hectic, and that was after a busy week of baking pies non-stop. Just when I thought I was caught up, Ali would show up with an updated estimate for the number of attendees.
“This is going to be huge,” she said, doing a little dance in the middle of the café. “Last year’s was pretty good. But this one…it’s going to blow it away. What town has the hardest-working mayor around?”
“She’s sure not the quietest,” someone muttered.
“Whoops, sorry,” she said, not looking even a tiny bit apologetic. “Gil still bringing his brother?”
I beckoned her to take a seat at the counter, so I wasn’t talking across the room. “I think he’s nervous. His brother was in a car accident when he was a teenager, and he sustained a brain injury.”
Ali nodded. “He told me a little.”
“He did? When?” He sure was getting around the town. Here I thought he stayed home all day and stared at paint drying.
“He had lunch with Theo and me last week. I was picking his brain about Two Harts getting its own community center. He had a lot of great ideas. I like him, Ellie. Are you sure the two of you aren’t…” she made an awkward gesture with the pointer fingers of both hands “…together?”
I covered her hands. “Never do that again, okay?”
She laughed. “Seriously, El. He’s a great guy.”
“Yeah, I know.” Boy, did I know it. “It’s complicated.”
“People say that all the time and you know what? It usually isn’t. It’s usually something a real long talk over a piece of pie could make much easier.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
“You’re welcome.” She grinned. “I asked him about what his future plans were. Thought maybe I could lure him to Two Harts for the community center?—”
“That we don’t have yet.”
“Details. Details. He didn’t say much else to that and then he and Theo started talking about baseball.
” She pulled a sheet of paper from her magic clipboard and cleared her throat.
“I did come in here on official business. You are hereby notified you have been nominated for Small Business Owner of the Year.”
On the table, she placed a flyer with my photo and two other smiling business owners I recognized. “Me?”
“Yep. We decided to give out three awards. One for volunteer of the year, one for city employee of the year, and one to a small business owner. Show a little pride in our people, you know? At the last city council meeting, we took nominations, then people voted online. The winners are announced tomorrow.” She pushed the flyer toward me. “You should hang it up in the window.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “I’m not sure what to say.”
“You say, ‘Hell yeah, I’m winning this thing.’ You deserve it, Ellie. Two Harts loves you. You’re one of us. Now, I have about seven million things to do before tomorrow, including the finishing touches on the City Hall float for the parade. We went with a gnome theme this year.”
“You did a gnome theme last year.”
“I know. It makes Peter Stone see red. I have no idea what he has against gnomes,” she said with wide, innocent eyes. There was a story there. It involved gnomes in inappropriate positions left on his lawn. The culprit had never been caught; she had been elected mayor though.
Long after she left, I stared down at the flyer.
It seemed so silly, this huge lump in my throat.
I loved this town. How could I leave? But how could I stay?
It was almost a foregone conclusion that Peter and his real estate developers would snap it up and he’d happily bulldoze everything to the ground—Ollie’s house, the café, and anything else that stood in his way.
When that happened, the climate of Two Harts would change. People from the city would crawl their way out here to buy McMansions in “planned communities.” The mom-and-pop shops would slowly disappear, replaced by chains and big box stores.
Two Harts as we knew it would disappear.
“He’s here. He’s here.” Oliver’s shriek startled the kittens—Charlotte and Avery this week after his teacher began reading Charlotte’s Web to the class.
Oliver had had his face pressed to the front window for over an hour, the kittens taking a seat on the sill next to him.
Before I could say a word, he’d dashed out the door to meet Gil and his brother, Mikey.
I bit my lip and followed slowly. All week, Gil and I had been explaining to Oliver how Mikey would be different from other adults he knew.
How Mikey didn’t like a lot of loud noise and sometimes wore headphones to protect his ears, or how he might need a break if he were overwhelmed.
How sweet Mikey was but sometimes got mad when he didn’t understand what was going on.
“We treat him like any other person,” I said. “But we help him when he needs it, okay?”
Oliver had listened carefully, and I swear if he were capable, he would have taken notes and reviewed them later. “I hope he likes me.”
“Of course he’ll like you,” Gil said. “You’re awesome.”
Still, Oliver had picked out his outfit carefully, donning his favorite dinosaur shirt. He’d been sitting at the window since seven thirty in the morning.
With Main Street blocked off for the parade and festivities, the café was opening late and only serving selected items. It had been strange waking up after five.
I’d laid in bed because I could, read a little more of The Pirate’s Booty .
It wasn’t half bad, but did have me questioning if all the characters in romance novels were able to defy the limitations of physics and body movement.
Gil waved as he rounded the car. But Mikey hadn’t waited for his brother.
He was already out of the car and grinning widely, revealing a snaggletooth.
He was a little shorter than Gil. His hair was more gray than brown, and he was beginning to bald.
His eyes were blue behind glasses that were almost identical to Gil’s.
A long white scar started atop his right eyebrow and went above his hairline, making it impossible for the hair to grow there.
Oliver screeched to a halt in front of him. He tipped his head back to look up at him. Next to Mikey, he looked so small.
“Hello,” Mikey said in a loud voice. He grinned down at Oliver. “My name is Mikey. I’m thirty-five. Can I be your friend? What’s your name?”
“I’m Oliver. I’m six. We can be friends.”
Mikey punched a fist in the air with excitement.
“Yay. I like your shirt. It has a dinosaur on it. I like dinosaurs.” He pointed to his own t-shirt.
It was blue with a couple of smiling sheep and the words, HOW EWE DOING?
above them. “Sheep are my favorite, and this is my favorite shirt because it’s funny.
Did you know a lady sheep is called a ewe? ”
Oliver giggled. “Do you want to go see my room and I can show you all my dinosaurs?”
“Yes.” Oliver grabbed Mikey’s hand and started to pull him toward the front door.
“Hold on a second. Mikey, I want you to meet someone else.” Gil put his arm around my shoulders. “This is Eleanor.”
Mikey froze, his blue eyes behind his glasses wide. He looked me up and down. He didn’t say a word.
I held my hand out. “You can call me Ellie. It’s nice to meet you. Your brother has told me all about you.”
“You’re a princess. Gilly said you were a princess because you have long yellow hair and you’re so pretty,” Mikey said, excitement making his voice shake.
Gilly? I mouthed at Gil. I grinned; he shook his head.
Then Mikey did the most unexpected thing. He turned over the hand I’d offered and placed a kiss on the back of it. “Your Majesty.”
I giggled. “Oh, my, goodness. If I’m a princess, the whole kingdom will probably burn down when I forget to turn off the oven.”
“Are you flirting again?” Gil asked his brother.
Mikey straightened, his grin wide. “Who, me?”
I got the feeling this was schtick the two of them played before. I looked at Gil with narrowed eyes. “Gilbert Dalton, do you use Mikey to pick up women?”
Gil grinned slowly. “Who, me?”