Page 63 of Tide Over

I glance over at his car parked by the gas pump, noticing the Newfoundland licence plate.

The guy turns back to us, fidgeting with the receipt in his hand. “Going,” he says, his eyes travelling over the storefront. “I was in Kejimkujik Park to see a scarlet tanager, and I found it, so now I’m going home.”

A smile tugs at my lips as I take in the awkwardness about him, that is also somehow endearing. “A scarlet tanager?”

His eyes meet mine, and they light up. “A small songbird, and one of the most difficult to spot because they forage in dense, leafy, high canopies. They come here in summer to breed and return to South America in the fall, and in spring they are sometimes forced out into the open to search for insects which increases the chances of spotting them. I did, I saw one, a summer male that is brilliant red with black wings and a tail, and I saw him before he will molt into winter plumage in late summer. Then he’ll be greenish with black wings. He’s red because he’s a breeding male so that’s really good that he’s here.” He nods, looking more confident than when he first came out here, as we all stare back at him in silence.

“Cool,” I eventually say with a smile, not quite sure what else to say. He’s obviously super into birds, and I know absolutely nothing about them.

His confidence falters again as he forces a tight smile and lifts a hand in an awkward wave. “I need to go. Bye.”

“Bye,” I chuckle as he heads down the steps.

Jimmy waves to him as he gets in his car, then turns to me, drawing his brows together. “A scarlet tangler?”

I laugh, watching the guy drive away. “Tanager, I think.”

He shrugs. “Well, he sure sounded excited about it.”

“I’d say.”

“Hi, Liam.” Cynthia steps out of the store with a smile. “I thought I saw you out here.”

I look up at her with a smile as she wipes her hands on her apron. “Hey,” I say.

“And what are you up to today?” she asks.

“I was working on the house… but,” I shift my weight in my chair, “I just needed to get out for a bit, I guess.”

She observes me for a moment then smiles brightly. “Well, perfect timing. I need some help, and these old fellas aren’t going to cut it.”

The men all grumble in protest and Cynthia waves her hand in the air with a roll of her eyes.

“I need muscles,” she says. “Any of you want to move a freezer for me?”

And suddenly, the protests all stop.

“Thought so,” she says with a shake of her head and motions for me to follow her. “Let’s go.”

I chuckle, pushing to my feet and following her inside the store. She leads me to the kitchen in back, and I wave to Heather on the way as she helps a customer at the counter.

“I dropped my favourite dough whisk behind the freezer,” Cynthia says as we enter the kitchen, pointing to the large deep freezer against the wall. “That’s what I get for doing too much at once and not just using the counter space.” She laughs softly. “Would you mind pulling the freezer out so I can grab it?”

“Sure.” I step forward and grab the edges of the freezer to shift it forward enough for her to slip behind it and retrieve her whisk.

Cynthia holds it up triumphantly. “Thanks, honey. The day this one goes will be tragic.”

I chuckle and glance around the kitchen. It’s a big space with multiple ovens, fridges, freezers, and shelves crammed with bowls. The counters are dusted with flour, and there’s a few bowls and stand mixers out.

“Ever baked before?” Cynthia asks, heading to the sink to wash her whisk.

I nod, the smell of baked bread pulling me back home for a moment, igniting a sharp pain deep inside me. “My mom likes to bake.”

She looks over her shoulder, observing me for a moment before she smiles softly. “Well, I’m on my last batch of bread and could use a hand.” She turns away from the sink, drying the whisk on her apron before holding it out for me.

I look down, and cautiously reach out to take it.

Her tone is softer when her words cut the silence between us. “I’d love to spend some more time with you.”

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