She sets her mug on the floor next to her and gestures to the cookies. “Making a delivery. Which I seemed to have failed at. And now I’ll probably lose my job over it.’”
“Where at?”
“The bakery in town. I’m just a cashier there, but I was asked to deliver macarons to Mrs. Perez since she couldn’t pick them up because of the weather.”
“Why didn’t someone just tell her she could get her cookies when the weather clears?”
Pen looks at me like I’ve grown a third eyeball. “Of course I said that. But no, Mrs. Marshall said I needed to deliver the cookies to Mrs. Perez. I didn’t realize cookies were life or death. Although they would have saved me from starvation had I been stuck in my car all night.”
“I’m sure Mrs. Marshall won’t fire you over not delivering cookies. I’ve never known her to be the mean type of woman.” Which is true, as a kid I always loved going to the bakery and getting a sweet treat with whatever allowance money I had, and Mrs. Marshall was always nice.
“Not if you are on her shit list.”
I raise a brow at that before taking a sip of my tea. “Do I even want to know?”
Penelope flourishes her hands in the air. “Well apparently, she doesn’t like it when I’m late. But let’s be honest, getting up at six in the morning to make it to the bakery by seven is asking a lot. It barely gives me time to do anything in the morning.”
“So, what you are saying is you are always late.”
“I show up when I find it necessary.”
“No wonder you might get fired.”
“No one asked you,” Pen says as she sticks her tongue out at me.
I can’t help but laugh.
“So how am I supposed to call my dad to come get me when you have no service in your home?”
I nod my head at the ancient device on the wall, a landline.
“What are you? Eighty? Who has a landline anymore?”
“When you live in the middle of nowhere, it’s kind of important.”
I keep my eyes on Penelope as she walks over to the wall where my landline is connected.
“I don’t even know how to use this thing.”
I hold in a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you are a smart girl. You can figure it out.”
She mumbles something under her breath I can’t quite catch before she picks up the phone off the wall and dials her father.
I watch her as she waits for him to answer. The way her brow scrunches with impatience, the way she taps her bare foot on the hardwood floors, the way she wraps a piece of that delicate brown hair around her finger. I shouldn’t be watching her as much as I am. I am also entranced by her. By how beautiful of a woman she has become over the years. Nothing like the teenager I remember. She is a woman now, a gorgeous one, one that I would normally fall for. I hate to admit that she is just my type, I hate to admit that I even have a type, but she is it.
I listen as she leaves a voicemail for her dad to call her back then hesitates when she doesn’t know the number. I rattle it off to her, and she repeats it before hanging up the phone.
“He didn’t answer.” She shrugs.
I nod. “You aren’t a bother,” I tell her. “You can stay here as long as you need.”
She studies me for a second before speaking. “Why are you being so nice to me? I always thought you hated me.”
I sip my tea and lean back into the sofa. “I never hated you, Pen, but it was just so easy to make fun of you when you were my best friend’s little sister. It was easy to play off his razzing.”
She purses her lips at me then nods before sitting back down in front of the fireplace. I can’t help but watch her as she sips on her tea and pulls the sleeves of her sweater over her hands.
“So why did you move back to Ouray? I always thought you wanted to leave?” she asks me out of nowhere.