CHAPTER 3
ELIZA
I’ve always wondered what it would look and sound like for one of the canned vegetable displays to crash to the floor. Even though it’s tempting to find out, knowing I’d be the one tracking down every can and restacking them holds me back. It takes the curiosity right out of the situation.
Still, as I stare at the canned cranberries stacked in the middle of the canned goods aisle, I can almost picture them scattered around and spilling into the front and back aisles of the market.
How long would it take me to collect all the cans and restack them?
Will all of these really be sold before Thanksgiving?
Canned cranberries are not my favorite thing on the dinner table when Thanksgiving rolls around. My dad would eat an entire can by himself, though Mom would never allow it. The man would make himself sick for some cranberry gelatinous goo. I shiver at the thought.
Glancing down at my watch, I only have an hour left of my shift. I wouldn’t be able to get everything restacked in time.
I’m not sure whether that’s a reason to bump into the cranberry monstrosity or not.
The tension at home last night was so heavy it was difficult to breathe. I didn’t want to look either of my parents in the eye. If I did, would they start asking me questions, again, about when I was going to stop with this whole year off thing? Well, they would call it ridiculousness.
Maybe they’re right.
If I had gone off to school, I wouldn’t have to deal with their curious eyes and their questions dripping with judgement. I could be making new friends. It’s possible I would even be dating.
Leaving Seneca Falls would mean leaving how everyone else sees me behind. I could be finding myself, the real me, without anyone’s assumptions.
Because everyone around here looks at me and sees a good girl. One who has never stepped out of line. One who listens to her parents and works hard in school and at work. One who dates the golden boy, which is exactly who I was with in high school.
They weren’t wrong about me then. Now that some of those expectations have fallen away, I’m not sure it’s really who I am. Could I be more?
The thought has me remembering my maternal grandmother, Zelda.
She never fit into a mold, especially not one expected of a woman.
She held jobs. She was as close to the frontlines during the war as she could get.
She got divorced and left her abusive husband behind, taking her daughter with her.
This was back when women simply didn’t do any of those things.
Society expected Zelda to fall in line, to keep quiet, to stay small and not stand up for herself or her daughter. She never did anything expected of her.
It was her art that helped her find Seneca Falls, after making her way through turquoise country. Even though she loved Santa Fe, she wasn’t a jeweler. Her love of stained glass had her looking for a place where her art could flourish and help her create a life for her and her daughter.
And a better life they had. Even if it did take the town some time to warm up to her, at least from the way Nana Z tells it.
Her art always gave me a feeling of pure awe. She put love and a little bit of her strength into every stained-glass piece she made.
I remember going into her studio and watching her work. I was fascinated by how she would take different colors and break down sheets of colored glass to make something new.
Even though she officially retired when I was only eight, she could still be found in her studio making beautiful pieces of art. I loved being there right next to her making pieces of my own when she felt I was old enough to do it safely. I miss her every day.
As much as I wanted her to see me graduate, find love, get married, and have kids of my own, she died when I was 16.
I still have all her stained-glass supplies.
Unfortunately, now it’s all boxed up, and I haven’t made anything since she passed.
Maybe one day I’ll have the space to start making pieces again.
The dream I’ve never told anyone, not even Arden, is that I want to open a stained-glass studio in town.
Not only do I want to make pieces for people to buy, but I also want to create a studio where people can come in and make a small stained-glass piece for themselves.
Teaching others would keep Nana Z’s memory alive.
“There’s something about colored glass,” Nana Z always told me.
“It takes light and transforms it, clarifies it, gives it color and purpose. Then it gives it back to you.” She’d always take a beat in her little speech right there and her eyes would bore into mine, as if trying to imprint the words and their sentiment on my soul.
“You do the same thing, Eliza. You take the light and make it better, brighter, and warmer. Don’t let anyone take that away from you, not ever. ”
Some days it feels like I’m letting her down and no one can see my light, let alone feel it.
After putting the last can into place, I take a step back and bump into a large, hard body.
With a gasp, I spin around and come face to face with a hard chest covered by a henley stretched to capacity and a leather jacket.
My eyes dart up to meet the chocolate brown eyes of a boy I haven’t seen in three years.
Kendrick Watts.
But he’s not a boy anymore. He’s completely grown into himself and is now all man. My breathing deepens as I stare up at him.
“S-s-sorry,” I stutter out before swallowing hard.
A slow smile starts to grow on his face as his dark eyes roam over me. The longer he looks at me, the more heated his gaze becomes. The air between us changes, becoming charged with every breath we take.
“No problem, Baby,” he drawls the words, his deep voice skittering along my skin and making me feel desperate to press my body against his.
What is going on with me? Something has to be wrong. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to anyone before, not even my ex, the only guy I’ve ever given myself to.
“My name’s Eliza, not ‘baby’,” I whisper.
The moment the words are past my lips, my eyes go wide, and I look down at the floor. A sink hole is going to open up underneath me. It’s the only fair thing that could happen right now.
“Eliza,” he practically purrs my name, and my knees go a little weak. How I manage to stay upright is beyond me. “It’s nice to put a name with a,” his eyes sweep down to my toes and then back up to my eyes, “face. I’m Kendrick.”
“I know who you are.” I slap my hands over my mouth and turn away from him so quickly that my hair flies around my head. “I did not just tell him I know who he is,” I chastise myself softly.
From the way he chuckles under his breath, he has zero problems hearing me talk to myself. Because the level of mortification I’m feeling right now needs to top my list of most embarrassing moments in my lifetime. Clearly.
“Hey,” his hand grips my arm, and it feels like a power surge jolts my body.
Even though he’s holding me firmly, there’s something gentle in his touch, as if the last thing he wants to do is hurt me.
“Eliza,” he breathes out when he turns me toward him.
“You don’t need to be embarrassed,” he tries to sooth me.
It doesn’t work.
Not even a little bit.
Suddenly, he lets go of me like he’s touched something far too hot and holds his hands up. “Wait a moment,” he sounds like he’s teetering on the edge of panic, “how old are you? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
I huff out a sound that’s a cross being a laugh and a groan. “I graduated. I’m 18,” I tell him, my words full of sass as I cock my hip out and slam my hand down on it.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Kendrick murmurs as his arms fall to his sides, and he looks visibly relieved.
“Whatever,” I snark and try to turn away from him. Again.
He doesn’t let me get any farther the second time. But instead of touching me, he steps around me quickly and stops in front of me. I trip over my feet a little bit as I come to an abrupt halt to stop myself from slamming into him again.
Part of me does want to feel him against me again, but it’s far too much temptation for me. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from running my hands up his chest if given another chance to be that close. I’ve embarrassed myself enough as it is.
“I had to ask,” Kendrick tries to justify himself.
“If I was supposed to be in school, don’t you think I’d be there right now?” I point out, not as gently as I normally would, but something about Kendrick has my back up and my annoyance rising.
“You’re right,” he agrees and nods in a way that tells me he’s not just telling me what I want to hear. “It was rude, and I didn’t even think about it being a school day. I’m sorry.”
I sigh, my anger fizzling out because of how sincere his apology feels. Still, I find I can’t soften completely. I’m terrified of what would happen if I did.
He’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen and nothing like the other men in Seneca Falls. He’s definitely nothing like my athlete golden boy ex-boyfriend. The way he is solid calls to me, and I need to feel his arms wrapped around me.
“But I had to make sure,” he keeps going, his voice turning unapologetic. “The last thing I would want is to claim someone too young. I already have enough of a reputation around here,” there’s a tease in his voice.
I bristle, but when he smiles at me, I find all my ruffled feathers smooth down. Then his words filter in, and I freeze.
“Claim?” I squeak and shake my head.
“Oh yeah,” he breathes out.
When I look into his eyes, they darken and turn hungry. I don’t think my ex ever looked at me the way Kendrick Watts is looking at me right now. Even though I should be running, or at least powerwalking, the other direction, I find I can’t move.
Or I don’t want to.
“I might have come home because of Dad’s heart attack, but it won’t be why I’m staying,” he says the words as if they’re obvious.
They’re not.
I’m not even sure what he’s talking about.
“What?” I sound beyond confused, which is accurate. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kendrick steps closer to me, too close since we’re standing in the middle of Falls Market. “You’ll find out soon, Eliza.”
His words don’t sound like a threat. They sound like a promise.
“Oh, Eliza,” is trilled from behind me.
When I look over my shoulder, I find Mrs. Riley, the town librarian, and noted local busybody, heading in my direction while waving. Honestly, she looks ridiculous.
And like she’s about to trip over her own feet to get to me. As if I would climb Kendrick and kiss him for all of Seneca Falls to see.
I wouldn’t. Most likely. Well…no, I wouldn’t.
Mrs. Riley is panting softly when she reaches us. When Kendrick looks at me, his lips twitch into a smile. I’m a little surprised he’s not scowling or cursing at her. Everyone always talked about how quick Kendrick was to anger.
I’m not seeing that now.
“I thought it was you,” Mrs. Riley gushes, her hand gripping my arm and squeezing a little too hard.
“Mrs. Riley,” Kendrick greets her with a nod of his head, “it’s nice to see you.”
“Kendrick,” she exclaims as if she hadn’t seen him standing there and talking to me, even though we all know she did. “I was so sorry to hear about your father. How is he doing?”
Kendrick stands up a little straighter and when his eyes meet mine, I can see the pain there. It makes me want to reach for him. I don’t, but it’s an impulse which isn’t easy to control.
“He’s going to be just fine,” Kendrick assures Mrs. Riley. “Thank you for asking.” When he looks at me, his eyes are intense and focused. “I’ll see you soon, Eliza.”
The way he says my name is pure honey. And sin. It makes me lick my lips as if I could taste him there even though I can’t. He hasn’t kissed me.
It’s only a matter of time before he does if the way he’s looking at me tells me anything.
He walks away with a swagger in his step. If I stare at the backside of him for a moment too long, I can only hope no one notices.
Mrs. Riley clearing her throat has my cheeks heating. Guess someone did notice.
But it’s a very nice backside. It should be appreciated.
Not every guy in Seneca Falls fills out a pair of jeans the way Kendrick Watts does. If you can’t appreciate something like that every now and again, why are we even here?
“Was there something you needed help with, Mrs. Riley?” I chirp the question as I turn toward the woman who is already looking at me with disappointment and condemnation.
She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. For some reason, it makes me want to snap at her and defend Kendrick before she’s even said a word.
“Be careful with him,” she warns me seriously. “He’s not the kind of boy a girl like you will be able to tame. He was always up to no good and running around with girls with questionable moral character.”
“Was there something you needed help finding in the market?” I try to keep the bite out of my question, but by the way her smile tightens, just a touch, I don’t pull it off.
I find I don’t really care. Which is new for me.
With a forced smile on my face, I soften my tone, “I don’t want to be the reason behind a dressing riot since it is next on my list to restock.”
“I would hate to bring down Thanksgiving,” Mrs. Riley decides to take the pleasant route, instead of saying anything about my snarky initial reaction. “I do need some dressing,” she muses.
With a wave of my hand, I lead her away from the canned corn and hope she doesn’t see the way I clench my jaw as she falls into step next to me. Since her last child went to college a couple of years ago, she’s gotten much more involved in what everyone else is doing in town.
“Just remember,” she mutters, her voice low like she’s sharing a secret with me, “he’s not the kind of guy to stick around.” Her voice turns sad as she scoffs, “I saw at least one broken heart he left behind.”
Jealousy hits me in the middle of my chest. Now that I’m thinking about it, her youngest was a gorgeous girl and in his graduating class. I don’t know if she dated Kendrick, but I didn’t pay attention to that kind of stuff. I had my friends, my boyfriend, and I was focused on school.
“Thanks, Mrs. Riley,” I force past my lips.
It’s not like I need to be reminded about the reputation Kendrick had in Seneca Falls before he rode away into the sunset. What doesn’t make a lot of sense to me is how much I want to defend him.
I shake my head and get back to work. I probably won’t see him again any time soon.