Page 10 of A Tinsel Tale

“Thanks. We like supporting local artisans.” He empties my basket and I’m distracted by his large strong hands and his sinewy forearms dusted with soft hair. He ties string around the pie boxes and bags the rest while I stick my debit card in the credit card machine. When I see ‘approved’ across the screen I remove it then slip it back into my clutch. Grabbing the pies by the string I take the bag Jamie is holding out for me with my other hand. And yeah… it’s awkward. A thousand unspoken words hover between us like an army of ghosts.

“Um… well thanks. Hope you have a nice Thanksgiving,” I say grudgingly.

“You too. Tell Dee and Caleb hi from me and I’ll see them at my party.”

I arch a brow. “Party?”

“Yeah. Wolverines versus Buckeyes. U of M is going to kick some ass. I’m having a shindig at my place… kegger and all. I told your dad about it. Invited you guys. He didn’t mention it?”

“No. Not really my thing anyway,” I say, dismissively. I grimace inwardly because I know I sound like a snob.

He smirks. “Oh really? You used to love football. And whatisyour thing nowadays?”

I flush realizing my mistake. I have no life besides work. “Um… you know… restaurants, plays, museums, art galleries, that sort of thing,” I lie.

“Sounds… um… what’s the word?” He snaps his fingers. “Got it, tedious,” he says triumphantly, throwing my own words back at me. I glare, shooting daggers straight at him. Doesn’t seem to faze him one iota. “To each his own,” he says with a shrug. “Tell Coach I’ll be around to drop off feed for the horses over the weekend.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can pick it up.”

“It’s already been arranged. You’re welcome.”

I bite my lip. I do sound rude. “Thanks. I’m sure Dad really appreciates all your help.”

“No problemo,” he says.

I stand there stiffly for a second before turning to leave. “Well, bye then.” I walk away hating my conflicting emotions. It’s confusing. I’m as drawn to him as much as I ever was, yet I want to rip him apart. The worst thing is I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m leaving a piece of myself behind. I don’t look back. If I do I think I might make a fool of myself. My emotions are all over the place and I hate it.

6

JAMIE

Iwatch her leave and it riles up all sorts of old feelings. For one thing she seems so alone. She has dark smudges under her eyes and when she introduced herself to Henry, she’s looked kind of sad. She kept her head held high and shoulders erect, but it’d sure seemed fake as hell to me. I almost felt sorry for her. It can’t be easy for her to be back home for the holidays without her mom here. If only she didn’t act so damn superior, it would be hella easier to be decent.

I used to know Evie as well as I knew myself. Could she really have changed that much? I remember when we used to spend every second we could together, couldn’t get enough of each other. We’d talk for hours about nothing and everything. We had so many plans, hopes and dreams.

I wonder if she still likes to get up early to watch the sun rise or lie back on a blanket and watch the clouds float by? Does she still like instant ramen noodles with parmesan cheese sprinkled on? Does she still set her alarm an hour early so she can press the snooze button a half dozen times? Does she ever think about us and wonder what could have been?

Honestly, I wish she wasn’t here. It’s hell of a lot easier to forget about her when she’s not in my face. Her being here just brings up all the old shit!

As I replay the whole encounter we just had, I start to laugh.My math skills. She always was funny as hell in her dry sort of way. Blast from the past for sure. She tutored me in algebra freshman year. Coach had set that up because I was failing, and he didn’t want me kicked off the team. Thought I’d died and gone to heaven. Tutored by Evie Parker, the girl I’d been crushing on since the sixth grade.

I think I may have enjoyed that exchange we just had a little too much.Huh.I scrub my hands over my face. That’s something Mom doesn’t need to know and I’m going to give her an ear full for her little matchmaking stunt. I shake my head. Could she be more obvious? She tells Evie I’m babysitting then scoops Henry up and leaves us alone together.

The bell jingles and I smile as a group of women with varying shades of gray enter the shop. “Hello ladies,” I greet them, turning on my high voltage charm.

“Hello Jamie,” they chorus. Mrs. Grant, the local buttinsky says, “Was that Evie Parker getting into that fancy white car?”

“Sure was.” I wink and smile.

“I hear she’s moving back,” she says digging for the exclusive. My body freezes for a second until I realize Coach would have said something to me if that was true.

“Nope. As far as I know, home for the holidays is all. Through the new year. Bill is having knee surgery.”

“Oh my,” she says looking over my shoulder. “Are you here alone?”

“For the moment,” I say. Her eyes gleam then I understand why with her next statement.

“It must be nice to have Evie back. Were you catching up?”

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