Chapter 20 #2
Brooke swallowed, then took a long sip of soda. “What’s really wild is, I don’t even think her husband cares that much. Larry’s the one who’s furious, of course, but it’s like Vivian’s the one carrying the grudge.”
“You think she’ll hold it against me if a job opens up?” Cora tried to sound casual, though the old instinct to cross her fingers tugged at her.
Brooke hesitated, her knife pausing in midair. “I can’t say. But if I had to guess, yeah. From working on her house sale, I’ve learned Vivian runs hot and cold, and she does not like being challenged. Sorry.”
“Not your fault.” Cora gave a small laugh. “Just makes me glad I have the Dayton offer.”
Brooke’s expression softened. “I hate seeing you go.”
“I hate it, too.” Cora traced the rim of her water glass, her reflection rippling in the surface. “It’ll be hard to leave. I feel like I’m just starting to find my people here.”
“It takes time,” Brooke said gently, smiling in that quiet, steady way that made Cora feel seen.
Cora nodded. “Everything with the land will probably still be up in the air when I have to go.”
“I’ll help however I can.” Brooke’s voice warmed. “We’ll stay in touch. Just tell me what you need.”
“Thank you.” Her throat tightened. Somehow, Brooke had shifted from acquaintance to the person she felt closest to in GraceTown.
“You’ve only got a few house-sitting days left.” Brooke dragged a fry through ketchup but didn’t eat it right away. “Have you found somewhere to stay?”
“I’m renting a room in a house on Peach Street. Month-to-month and reasonable.”
“A studio?”
Cora shook her head. “A single room. Shared bath.”
Brooke wrinkled her nose.
“Hey, it’s clean and quiet—and did I mention cheap?”
Brooke laughed. “Several times.”
The sound drew a smile from Cora, but it faded as the hum of the restaurant filled the silence. Silverware clinked, soft music threaded between conversations. Yet, she felt oddly separate from it all.
The reason sat heavy in her chest.
Evan.
She hadn’t heard from him since the night at her house. She’d let herself hope—foolishly—that something still connected them. Once, they’d shared a bond that felt unbreakable. I was meant to be yours, and you were meant to be mine. Other worlds, other lives.
He didn’t know her now. Or, she corrected, he knew her only superficially.
Brooke’s voice broke gently through her thoughts. “It sounds like you’ve got everything covered.”
Cora lifted her head, meeting her friend’s steady gaze. “I’m staying strong.” She sat a little taller, offering a small but certain smile. “One foot in front of the other—that’s the best I can do right now.”
Brooke nodded, her hand brushing lightly over Cora’s in wordless understanding. “Sometimes that’s all any of us can do.”
Cora turned toward the window, watching the breeze stir the last of the autumn leaves along the sidewalk. She kept moving forward, doing what needed to be done. But toward what?
A new life in Dayton? Another fresh start in a town that wouldn’t feel like home?
Her thoughts drifted to the Possibility Wing, to Adelaide’s calm assurance that her being in GraceTown wasn’t an accident. That she was meant to be here.
Maybe.
But sitting here now, Cora wished she’d never opened any of those books. Never seen what might have been, because her heart remembered what her mind kept telling her to release.
“Well, I’d love to linger, but…” Brooke glanced at her watch and winced. “I’ve got a showing in thirty.”
Cora pushed back her chair and reached for her purse. “We’ll have to do this again soon.”
“Absolutely.” Brooke stood, gathering her things. Before Cora could say another word, Brooke’s phone buzzed. She rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Vivian,” before answering. “I was just thinking about you,” she said, tossing some bills on the table before walking away with polished professionalism.
Cora slipped her card back into her wallet and turned toward the door just as it opened.
Evan stepped inside.
He wasn’t alone. Four men and two women followed. Most likely colleagues, by the look of them. But for one suspended heartbeat, it was just the two of them. Their eyes met—his warm and searching, hers wide and unguarded—and the rest of the room faded.
He paused.
The woman beside him—the same blond woman Cora had seen at the reunion—touched his arm. “I’ll get the table.”
“You all go ahead,” he said quietly. “I’ll be right there.”
Cora’s breath caught. The sight of him—the easy tilt of his smile, the familiar scent of citrus and soap as he moved closer—sent her pulse skittering.
“How have you been?” he asked, voice low, almost tentative.
“Good.” Her smile felt fragile but real. “Keeping busy.” She stepped closer before she could stop herself, drawn by a gravity she couldn’t name. “There’s so much I want to tell you, but I didn’t want to make things awkward for you at work. So I’ve…stayed away.”
“It’s…” He hesitated, glancing briefly toward his colleagues before his gaze returned to hers. “It’s an awkward situation,” he said softly. Then, with a small, rueful smile, he added, “Ken Edwards is doing good by you.”
“He is,” she murmured.
“Evan!” A man near the table waved. “We’re on a tight schedule!”
Evan raised a hand in acknowledgment. “Coming.”
Cora lifted her chin, her voice light. “Duty calls.”
“It does.” His tone gentled, threaded with warmth. “Are you still at Cuppa Joe?”
“Until mid-December.” Her voice was steady, though her pulse wasn’t. “You should stop by sometime.”
His smile deepened, slow and genuine. “I just might.”
“Really,” she added, finding her courage. “Anytime.”
Their eyes held, brief but bright, with a flicker of something shared, something familiar, something neither of them could quite put into words.
Then he moved toward his group, and she let him go.
But the echo of that connection stayed with her long after the door closed behind him.