Chapter Nineteen
Nineteen
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Isabel Espinoza
“You’ll always be judged by the company you keep.”
Juliet
“The library’s not even open?” I asked Maeve as I carried a heavy box up a ramp leading to the library doors. According to the sign posted, the building had closed an hour ago.
Even though Maeve was holding a Crock-Pot, somehow she still managed to swipe a card against the reader next to the doors.
They whisked open. “The community room is available after hours for private events, for a fee, of course. Everyone in the book club pitches in a few dollars a month to cover the cost. We take turns hosting.”
Tonight was her turn, which was why we were here half an hour before the meeting was set to begin.
The box I held was full of vegetable-themed party supplies.
Cabbage-leaf-patterned paper plates, bowls, and cups.
Lace tablecloths, glass candlesticks, an old wicker basket stuffed full of vegetables like cabbage, carrots, tomatoes, eggplant, artichokes.
And a bouquet of wildflowers, still wrapped in florist paper.
Despite the invitation from Vera the other day, I hadn’t intended to attend book club tonight. Those plans changed, however, when Maeve stopped by this morning before heading to Juneberry and volun-told me that I should meet her here at six to help set up for the meeting.
So here I was, sailing through the automatic doors, actually looking forward to tonight, even though I hadn’t read the book. Even though I didn’t even know the title of the book. “How many members are in the group?”
“Six. Me, Vera, Nettie, Isabel, Renny, and Tallulah. Sometimes Tenn sits in, but he wants to grow his whiskers back before anyone sees his naked face.”
It was hard to believe that I’d been here less than a week and I already knew who all those people were.
As we made our way to the community room, late-day sunlight colored everything in a shade of gold. None of the overhead lights were on, and it was strange not to hear the faint hum of equipment, of voices, of footsteps, of pages rustling.
Strange but oddly peaceful. Part of me wanted to choose a book and curl up in one of the beanbag chairs in the children’s section and stay there for a good long while.
“We’ve got half an hour to whip this place into shape.” She flipped on the community room’s lights and blinked at the sudden brightness. “I’m up for the challenge. How about you, honey?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I said, then grinned when I realized what I’d said. I didn’t think I’d ever called anyone ma’am in my whole life.
Laughing, she carried the Crock-Pot to a table pushed against a far wall. “Food will be set up here, buffet style. Everyone’s bringing a dish. Can you start dressing the dining table?”
I assumed she meant the conference table in the middle of the room. “Do you always throw an elaborate dinner for book club meetings?”
This all seemed above and beyond to me. Most of the book clubs I’d been part of only served snacks and cocktails. Sometimes I enjoyed those more than the book I’d read. More often than not, we didn’t even talk about the book.
“Actually, we do. It’s a cookbook club. We each make one or two dishes from the book and serve them potluck style.”
I pulled a lace tablecloth from the box. “I’ve never heard of a cookbook club before. It sounds fun.”
“It is, though sometimes the food is iffy. We have a rule that we’re not allowed to remake a dish if it doesn’t turn out.
It gets served as is. And,” she said, walking toward me with note cards in her hand, “we stick mainly to vintage cookbooks. The older, the better. This month’s book is Practical Vegetarian Cookery.
It’s from 1897. Isabel found it on the Library of Congress website. How’s your penmanship?”
I placed the basket of vegetables in the middle of the table and put the candlesticks on each side of it. “Legible.”
“Perfect.” She passed the cards over to me, then pulled out a pen and a piece of torn notebook paper from the pocket of her dress and handed those over as well. “Can you write out the names of each of these dishes? One per card. Then put them in card holders and set them on the buffet table.”
I smiled when I saw that the pen had a Hearnshaw Automotive logo on it, then glanced at the list of food being served tonight: Split pea soup.
Stuffed squash. Sweet potato curry. Gingersnaps.
Apple fritters. Apricot water. Italian salad.
Prune whip. Corn muffins. Cottage cheese sandwiches. Asparagus pie. Spinach soufflé.
“Prune whip?” I hoped my tone came across as curious and not horrified, even though that’s how I felt.
Laughing, she picked up the flowers. “Honestly, I’m more scared of the cottage cheese sandwiches, but Isabel was excited to try them. She’s big on cottage cheese these days. Something about protein.” She nodded toward one of the chairs. “Go on and sit yourself down. I’ll be right back.”
There was a small kitchenette off the community room, and Maeve disappeared in there for a moment before returning with three small vases of flowers. I wasn’t sure where she’d conjured up the vases, but she set them on the table and said, “How was your day with the girls?”
“It went well. They’re the sweetest.”
After Mary Joy’s morning nap, she woke up all smiles—except when she looked at Tenn, which brought about tears.
She didn’t seem to recognize him without his beard.
We went for a walk, played in the sprinkler in the backyard, had a dance party, practiced sitting with Mary Joy, and read what felt like a zillion books.
Katy tried her best to teach Mary Joy how to crawl, but the baby would only rock on her knees and then theatrically collapse onto her stomach.
Katy said Mary Joy looked like a sea lion when she did it, and I couldn’t disagree.
Tenn had laughed and laughed. He’d spent most of the day in the dining room, carving and singing at the top of his lungs.
It was nice to see him moving around more, but I made sure the girls and I spent a lot of time outside in the peace and quiet of nature.
Maeve cracked a smile. “And just how often did Tallulah check in?”
I laughed as I carefully wrote down spinach soufflé, making sure to spell it right. “She texted approximately a million times. Half to check on the girls, half to apologize for texting so much. She threw in a few funny memes for good measure.”
“Memes? That’s high praise. She doesn’t send those to just anyone.”
A ribbon of warmth spread through me, and I thought about what Katy had said a few days ago, about how Tallulah would soon come around and be glad I was here.
Apparently, she’d been right.
Maeve said, “Has Lu told you that her parents are travel writers? Award-winning, too. All the highest praises. They live out of backpacks and are always looking for the next adventure. They’ve never had a home base—they used Tenn’s address for mail and packages and such.
It’s been go, go, go from the start. Seeing the world is an exciting career to be sure, but Tallulah really struggled with the constant change. ”
I glanced at her. “Tallulah traveled with them?”
Maeve nodded. “Right up until she was eighteen and decided to move in with Tenn and go to college nearby.”
Until I’d landed here in Forget-Me-Not on my road trip, I’d been moving from place to place every couple of days because I hadn’t wanted to make connections while out on the road. Hadn’t wanted to get comfortable. Hadn’t wanted to make friends or get to know anyone other than at a surface level.
I’d thought being alone was what I needed to figure out who I was, but all I really found was that I’d been lonely.
I couldn’t even imagine if that was my life.
I tried to picture a young Tallulah constantly being uprooted. She with her routines and lists. “I can’t imagine how hard that was for her.”
“She’ll be the first to tell you she saw some amazing things and met amazing people, but it definitely took its toll.
It was easier not to make friends than to leave them behind.
Always having to say goodbye left a lasting wound.
All these years later, she hasn’t really broken the habit of keeping to herself.
Being back here in Forget-Me-Not is helping.
But,” Maeve added, “she’s still has a tough time with the complexities of short-term friendships.
Of opening up. Of letting people in. Especially people she knows will be leaving soon. ”
I met her gaze and read between the lines of what she was saying. Because I would be leaving soon, the fact that Tallulah had let me into her life, offered friendship, felt a little like she had trusted me with the moon and the stars.
At the sound of loud knocking, Maeve said, “That has to be Renny. He’s a chronic early bird. I’ll be right back.”
A moment later, I heard Renny say, “I hope oxygen was on the list of approved dishes. I’ve got plenty.”
Maeve laughed. “I’ll be sure to add it to the menu.”
I smiled and stood up as they came into the community room, Maeve first, followed by Renny and Callum, who had one hand looped through Renny’s arm, while the other held a portable oxygen tank.
“Ah, it’s my favorite green-eyed girl,” Renny exclaimed when he spotted me. “Hi, darlin’.”
“Do you know many green-eyed girls, Uncle Ren?” Callum asked, giving me a smile.
“Don’t quibble, Cal,” Renny said.
It was the first time I’d seen Callum out of his uniform. He was dressed in nice jeans and a royal blue T-shirt that matched his eyes. It looked like he’d tried to tame his wavy hair with some sort of product, but it seemed to have a mind of its own, curling this way and that.
I gave Renny a gentle half hug. “It’s good to see you.”
“Isn’t it?” He pretended to fluff his hair.
Maeve smiled fondly at him. “I’m surprised your ego fit through the door.”
“It simply trails behind me. Like a fabulous train.”
Maeve grinned and pulled out a chair. “Come sit down.”
Callum helped Renny settle in, then hitched a thumb over his shoulder. “I’ll be right back. Uncle Ren bought out the liquor store.”
Maeve said, “Here. You’ll need this to get back inside.” She handed him the access card, and a moment later, he was gone.
“A lifetime of experience has taught me that it’s better to have too much than too little,” Renny said, “especially since we pay extra to have booze here at all.” He picked up one of the note cards I’d written out and sighed.
“Is Nettie bringing prune whip because she believes we all need to loosen up?”
“Undoubtedly,” Maeve said.
Renny glanced around the table. “Eight chairs? Who else is coming?”
She lifted her eyebrows high. “Tallulah invited Evanthe.”
Renny whistled low. “If anyone can get her here, it’s Lu.” He glanced at me. “Evanthe tends to keep to herself.”
Before I could question why Tallulah might hold any sway with the older woman, Callum came back inside carrying a box. The sound of bottles clanking together filled the room.
He set the box on the buffet table and said, “If you don’t need anything else, I have a date and should get going or I’m going to be late and will have to hear about it all night.” He looked my way. “She can hold a grudge.”
I didn’t like the way my heart sank at that bit of news. Like I had any right to care that he had a date. I picked up the pen again and began to write out stuffed squash, pretending I wasn’t the least bit jealous.
“Thanks for the ride, Cal,” Renny said to him.
“Anytime.”
I looked up at him, forced a smile. “Have fun.”
He said, “You’re welcome to join us, if you want. We’re going for ice cream and to the bookstore.” His eyes glinted mischievously. “Unless you want to try the prune whip?”
I tipped my head, confused. “Go with you? On your date?”
It was then that Tallulah strode into the room, calling out a hearty hello, a pink carnival-glass pitcher of apricot water in hand. Mary Joy was nestled against her chest like a koala, wrapped in a fabric sling.
We all called out a hello; then Callum looked at me again. “Last chance, or forever hold your peace.”
Maeve took him by the shoulders and pointed him toward the door. “Don’t go trying to poach my guests. Out with you now.”
Tallulah elbowed Callum lightly. “You best hurry. Katy’s pacing the porch, waiting on you.”
Then she set the pitcher on the table and gave Renny a big hug, holding on extra long until Mary Joy started protesting.
“I best hurry then,” Callum said. To Renny, he added, “Just text when you’re ready to head back. And Juliet, send an SOS if you need rescuing from the prunes.”
As he walked away, I realized I was smiling. Big.
His date was with Katy.
“So that’s how it is, eh?” Renny asked, eyeing me.
I glanced at him, then realized they were all looking at me, even Mary Joy. Heat climbed my throat. “What is?”
They all smiled knowingly, and Renny wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.
I shook my head. “It’s not like that. We’re not … We barely know each other.”
Renny winked. “Give it time.”
Time. It was something I didn’t have much of because I had to leave town in—I quickly calculated—twenty-two days.
It was funny how just yesterday that had felt like all the time in the world.
But now it didn’t feel nearly long enough.