Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
A Pearl of Wisdom
from Isabel Espinoza
“If the past calls, you do not have to answer.”
Tallulah
Fridays at the library were proving to be the day that brought out the lunacy, the absurdity, the foolishness, the madness, the shenanigans.
Needless to say, it had been quite the morning.
First the news of Mary Joy and her potential egg allergy.
Then Juliet’s mom, Lydia, and sister, Amy, had shown up unexpectedly, claiming they wanted to surprise Juliet and also see the Flour Festival.
Not too long after they left, there had been a skirmish in the garden between two members of the local garden club wherein the word hoe had been thrown around quite a bit.
One of our regulars, Wooly Joe (I don’t know the origin of his nickname), who was a devoted arachnophile, thought the little ones taking part in the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” craft program would enjoy seeing live tarantulas. He let three of them loose in the community room.
Surprisingly, the children were fascinated.
Their library grown-ups, however, were not.
There was much screaming. And afterward, Nettie had needed a lie-down.
One of our teenage patrons decided to start rearranging the shelves according to color because it was “more aesthetically pleasing.” Isabel was still sorting that mess.
To top it all off, one of the toilets overflowed again, and I swear I heard Jed muttering about retirement.
I didn’t blame him. Not even a little. He was past the usual age for retiring, way past, plus public toilets. The man was a saint.
All those events had happened before noon, and I’d been more than ready for my lunch break. After I finished eating, I’d lingered in the break room until the last possible minute, hoping the afternoon proved less chaotic than the morning.
As I headed back to the circ desk, I heard Isabel say, “Many airlines have perk programs nowadays. Travel points add up to low-cost flights.”
I smiled, thinking she sounded like a commercial.
Then Nettie said, “Don’t you know that people will always remember how you made them feel? Especially children. They hold on to that. A little effort goes a long way toward a healthy relationship.”
Isabel jumped in again. “You can also transfer points from your credit card so your everyday purchases go into the pot. Or, better yet, get an airline credit card. Just be sure you’re paying it off every month.
I cannot endorse taking on additional debt.
” Her voice sharpened as she added, “I do, however, suggest spending a little more money on a bouquet if you can afford it. Especially if it’s being offered as an apology. ”
Nettie sniffed. “That there sad bouquet reads to me like you want something. It’s an afterthought. A way to soften the request.”
“Is that true?” Isabel demanded.
I walked a little faster, wondering what on earth was going on. Usually, their protocol was to offer harmless wisdom and advice, but this felt personal and more than a little hostile.
As I stepped into the reading zone, their backs were to me. They had someone corralled against the new materials display.
I glanced at Jed, who was headed toward Evanthe’s office holding what looked like a potato, and I didn’t even want to ask why. He raised his eyebrows and gave a slight shrug.
Fridays.
“Ladies,” I said, “is everything okay over here?”
Nettie and Isabel parted, one to each side of the man, looking like they were considering doing him bodily harm.
“He won’t say why he’s here,” Nettie supplied, giving the man a mean side-eye.
It took me a moment to recognize him, because he was tanned, and his blond hair was longer. When I did, I about fell over. I actually had to reach out and grab something.
That something turned out to be Isabel. She patted my hand. Comforting me.
“Tallulah! There you are,” Scott Mayfield said.
“What’re you doing here?” I asked my ex-husband, each word etched with pure shock.
“I told you I’d visit soon.” He thrust a bouquet of flowers toward me. “These are for you.”
The roses were wilted, the petals brown around their edges. Cellophane crinkled under my grip as I said, “Thanks. But you didn’t tell me you’d be here this weekend.” He was supposed to tell me. It was in our custody agreement.
He grinned. “I thought I’d surprise you and the girls. Surprise! I’m just here for a couple of days. Flying back out on Sunday morning.”
He’d flown.
I narrowed my gaze at him. We had spent many years together, and I knew there was more to the story. For the sake of not causing a scene in the library, I let it go for now.
“Funny thing is,” he added, “I can’t find a vacant hotel room within thirty miles.”
Nettie said, “I believe it was good ol’ Ben Franklin who said something to the likes of when you fail to plan, you plan to fail. Words of wisdom, those.”
Isabel nodded. “Indeed.”
This trip definitely had all the earmarks of being a last-minute decision. No notice. No hotel room. Flying here instead of driving.
But why?
Scott sighed. “Be that as it may, I need a place to stay.”
I was not going to offer up Papaw’s couch. Was not.
“Somewhere close to the girls would be nice.” He swung his gaze to me, all big puppy-dog eyes. “Can’t I just stay on your couch? It’s only two nights.”
If he’d mentioned wanting to be with the girls, tucking them in, making them breakfast, that kind of thing, I might’ve given in. Thankfully for me, he didn’t.
I threw a help me look at Isabel and Nettie.
After a long, drawn-out moment, Nettie said, “I have a spare room. You’re welcome to it. For two nights only.”
Scott turned a pleading glance toward me, and I pretended not to see it.
Instead, I sent veritable heart-eyes at Nettie. I owed her for this. Big-time. She was doing me a huge favor.
He cleared his throat and said, “Thank you. That’s real nice of you. I accept.”
I couldn’t fully explain why I didn’t want Scott at Papaw’s. I didn’t mind at all if he spent all his time here with the girls. I wanted him to be with them. But I didn’t want to see his toothbrush on the sink near mine. It was a step too far.
He folded his arms. “I saw a sign on the front door that the library is closed tomorrow. Does that mean you have the day off, Tallulah?”
“Tomorrow is the Flour Festival, and I have to work a shift at the library’s fundraising booth, but other than that, yes. I have the day off. Why?” I asked suspiciously.
“I was just hoping we’d have a chance to—”
He broke off because Isabel, Nettie, and I had collectively sucked in a breath, our gazes squarely on the front doors.
The doors that had just let Jake inside.
“Oh boy,” Isabel said.
Jake carried a big rectangular bucket that had a bow stuck to its side. He took a few steps forward and blinked, as though he was trying to adjust to the change of light. Then his gaze landed on me. Zeroed in, really.
My palms started to sweat.
“Sparks,” Nettie murmured.
I shot her a look.
“I call it as I see it, Lu.”
Confusion was stamped all over Scott’s face as Jake walked toward us, his gaze still locked on mine.
I was having palpitations.
Jake smiled at Nettie and Isabel, lifted an eyebrow at Scott, then said to me, “Hey, Tallulah. Do you have a minute?”
“Who’s this?” Scott asked.
“Who’s asking?” Jake said, dark eyes narrowing.
Just then, a cool wind swept through the room, signaling that Evanthe had arrived, and I eyed the front doors, suddenly wanting to make a run for it.
Scott straightened, standing tall. He was still a good four inches shorter than Jake, however. “I’m Tallulah’s husband.”
“Ex,” I said, razor sharp. To Jake, I added, “I don’t know why he’s here.”
“I told you—” Scott began.
“Stop,” I said to him, losing my patience. “Just stop.”
Amazingly, he complied.
I glanced around for somewhere private to talk to Jake. The community room was empty, but it had windows. I didn’t need an audience. The break room it was, then. “Come with me,” I said to Jake, not daring to look behind me at Evanthe.
Surely she’d understand.
Maybe.
I was probably going to get written up.
I held open the break room door for him, and once he was inside, I let it go. It shut with a soft snick, closing us in and everyone else out.
After setting the pitiful flowers on the counter, I turned to face him.
I felt sick, my stomach churning.
Jake placed the bucket on the table where I’d been eating lunch not five minutes ago. “I wanted to give you this. A housewarming present.”
It was a mop bucket, I realized, and it was full of things I’d need for the new house. Cleaning supplies. Wallpaper remover. Tools. And three matching floral tool belts. Adult size, child size, and toddler size.
I stared long and hard at those tool belts until I thought I could speak without my voice breaking. “This is very sweet of you, thank you. But I don’t close for a couple of weeks.”
My question was clear, even though I hadn’t said it aloud: Why was he giving this to me now?
“I know.” He crossed his arms, then let them fall. “But I’m leaving today.”
Oh.
Oh.
I waited for the tears, but they didn’t come.
“I think it’s for the best,” he said.
The tears hadn’t come, I realized, because I’d gone numb. I leaned, half sitting, on the table for support. I couldn’t feel my fingertips. Or my toes.
I forced myself to look at him.
Sunlight was hitting his eyes just so, making them look like aged amber, dark and lovely.
“Maybe so,” I whispered, the words pretty much stuck in my throat.
Before I could make sense of what he was doing, he leaned in and pressed his lips to my forehead, softly, gently.
I felt that. The warmth, the heartache.
Finally, he stepped back, gave me one last look, then turned and left, leaving the door open behind him.
A moment later, I heard Evanthe and Jed conversing; then she filled the doorway in all her linen-draped glory. Her hair was twisted into a fancy knot at the nape of her neck. Uneasiness darkened her eyes, and I took it to mean she hadn’t been sure what she’d find in here. What kind of mess.
Jed was probably on standby right outside the door, a mop at the ready to sop up my tears.
Before she could lecture me about bringing personal problems to work, I said, “He’s going home. Today.”
Deckle raced in ahead of her as she stepped inside and started pushing in chairs around the table. “Is he? Hmm. I have the feeling we’ll see him again soon.”
“I’m not sure I want to.” I didn’t think my heart could take it. Oh, how I was going to miss him.
“Lying isn’t your strong suit, Tallulah.”
I tested my legs, making sure they’d hold me, before carrying the bucket across the room. I set it next to the employee lockers. Deckle came over and nudged my leg. I bent down and patted his head, scratched under his chin.
He started purring.
I suspected it was a pity purr, but I didn’t even care.
I bravely picked him up and noticed he had a new collar. I was grateful for something to change the subject. “Do you worry people will think he’s a girl because of the pink collar?”
Evanthe crossed her arms. “I never worry about what other people think. Pink is often undervalued for its neutrality. Besides all that, she is a girl. All the library cats have been girls. Have you thought she was a he all this time?”
I stared at the cat. He, she, stared back. Dumbly, I nodded.
“No wonder it took a while for her to warm up to you. She’s quite sensitive.”
I was tempted to flip the cat over, check for myself, but refrained, considering the sensitivity of it all. Deckle was a she. I wasn’t sure why I’d thought otherwise. Maybe the name? It was a masculine name. No one could convince me otherwise.
I said, “I’m just going to add this to the list of strangeness that has ruled the day.” I reluctantly passed Deckle over to her. “I should get back to work.”
She pulled open the door. “Yes, you should.”
I saw Jed lurking in the large-print section and gave him an I’m okay smile. He gave a stiff nod and wandered off.
Because I was in a weird headspace and the day had been beyond, I threw caution to the wind, risking life and limb and my job, by saying, “Can I ask you a personal question, Evanthe?”
“At work?” Her gaze narrowed. Then she sighed and allowed the door to close once again. “Fine. I’ll allow it. Just this once.”
A pity concession.
It was a pity kind of day.
“Why won’t you date Jed?” I asked.
She hitched Deckle up a little, settling her more comfortably in her arms. “He hasn’t asked.”
I nearly laughed. “He’s hinted. He’s looking for encouragement from you. You have to know that.”
He was going to owe me the biggest pecan bar tomorrow.
For a long, drawn-out moment, she seemed to be thinking about what to say, and I dearly hoped whatever it was wouldn’t be ringing in the rafters for months to come.
Finally, she said, “His dog doesn’t like cats.”
I blinked, not sure I’d heard her right. “His dog?”
“I’d never dream of separating a man from his dog. They’ve been together twelve years now.”
I let that sink in, what it truly meant.
She liked Jed. A lot. So much so that she’d imagined a future with him, one where they were all together. Him and her, his dog, her cat.
“Surely there’s a compromise somewhere?” I said. “Perhaps date exclusively but live separately?”
“Perhaps,” she said in a frosty tone, “there’s a similar compromise to be found between you and Jake.”
My stomach hurt just thinking about him. “He’s gone. Compromise is out the window.”
“He is not going very far.”
“Nearly five hours and three hundred miles.”
I winced, realizing I’d revealed the fact that I’d looked it up. I hoped she wouldn’t notice.
The corner of her lip drifted slowly upward.
She’d noticed.
I glanced at the back door and thought again about running away.
“Tallulah, you must know that when the heart is involved, it isn’t a matter of time or distance. The questions you should be asking yourself are these: Does it hurt more having him far away? Or not having him at all?”
She gave me a pointed look, then pulled open the door and sailed out, Deckle still in her arms.
She was still purring.