Page 29 of Happy Trails & Honey Pots

Although Daphne was one of the newest members of our found sisterhood, she’d slotted right in. We all naturally foundour niches in the group, and we just gelled. Nadia was the funny, sarcastic friend who said what everyone was thinking. I was the dependable, nurturing, caring mom of the group, which made sense because I was a mom. Ashley was the fashionable, cool, ‘fun’ aunt. Which also rang true since she was an aunt and was very fun with impeccable style and had just graduated with an art degree. And Daphne was the smart, organized planner of the group. She’d worked for nearly a decade in television as a producer, and she now runs her family business, Moore Farm Moonshine, with her aunt, as well as freelancing as a marketing specialist.

The latest Sabrina Carpenter song was blasting through the speakers as I pulled up in front of the Dreamy Bean Coffee and Book Cafe. My console lit up, and I saw that AJ was calling. Since he was at school, I figured he must have forgotten his homework or something he needed me to bring him before his practice.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Mom! Kendall is auditioning to be you!”

“What?” I stared at the console as if that would give me any answers.

“For the movie! She’s auditioning to play the younger version of you. She said they want a local hire. Can I audition to play Dad?”

“Um…” I had no idea what he was talking about.

My confusion cleared like the foggy glass of my bathroom mirror when I pointed my hair dryer at it, and I saw everything clearly. Of course, I was going to be a character in the movie. Why hadn’t I considered that? For someone who considered herself fairly bright, I could be a real idiot sometimes.

Over the past week, I’d had two conversations with Andy and Shania that both lasted over two hours. They’d asked me all about the ‘honey pot’ story and about Austin and me and our relationship. They’d sent me follow-up questions, and I’dresponded to all of them. During that entire time, it never occurred to me that I’d be included in the narrative. How had it not even dawned on me thatIwas going to be part of Austin’s story?

My chest felt tight, and my stomach dropped. The first person I thought of was Miles. I wanted to call him. To talk to him. Not just because it was about the movie, but because I missed him and he was the person who I knew would make me feel better, which wasinsane. Like actually certifiable. Straitjacket time.

“We’ll talk about it later, AJ.”

“Mom, he wasmydad.”

“I know. But you’re not an actor.”

“But can’t I at least try? That’s all I want. I just want to try.”

AJ knew the way to get me to say yes to something. Even before his diagnosis of dyslexia, I always told him that he at least had to try, even if he didn’t think he could do something. Just try.

“We’ll talk about it tonight.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

The call disconnected, and I took two breaths. This whole thing suddenly felt like a runaway train. If I wasn’t running late, as usual, I would have the time to pull myself together, but since I was, I didn’t. I’d have to deal with this later.

Today was about Daphne, not me, and my train wreck life.

After taking one more deep breath, I got out of my car, locked it, and walked through the glass door etched with a coffee mug and steam coming out of it in the center. A bell dinged overhead. There was soft pop music playing, people chatting, and others typing on computers. I looked around and felt a little bit at ease. I’d always loved the décor at The Dreamy Bean. The ceilings were twenty feet high. One wall was exposed brick, and theopposite was a floor-to-ceiling bookcase. Farm tables and cozy couches created a homey and inviting atmosphere.

From behind the counter wrapped in distressed wood with large black pendant lights dangling from the ceiling, Marion Felton greeted me. “Well, hello, beautiful. How are you doing?”

“Good, how are you?”

“Just fine. You want your regular?”

“Please.”

A knowing grin appeared on Marion’s face as she went about making my regular order, and I braced myself for what I knew was coming.

“Soooo, I heard you stopped by and saw Mr. Miles Ford at the boarding house.”

Yep. There it was.

Marion was the twelfth person to ask me about my visit to see Miles this week. Firefly was notorious for gossip spreading so fast that by the time you finish sneezing, a person across town would offer you a tissue, but this was getting ridiculous.

“We needed to discuss the movie,” I explained for the dozenth time.

“Oh, right.” She nodded, clearly not believing my version of events.

---