Page 8 of Years in the Making

Are you around tomorrow? I could drive up there.

This week is wide open and that would be ideal. Have you heard of Peregrine Books?

I haven’t but Google has!

Perfect. What time would be best for you?

Want to have coffee or lunch?

My funds are depleted from tuition and rent so the thought of buying a bookandlunch makes me feel a bit nauseous.

Let’s do coffee.

Perfect. How’s 10 at Trojan Horse Cafe? It’s down the road from Peregrine.

I’ll see you there at 10.

I’ve just slipped my phone back into my pocket when Mom slowly comes into the room. I do my best to remove the goofy smile from my face. A smile I should not have while chatting with someone in a relationship. Mom grimaces and nods as I offer her my arm to steady her as we walk out of the office. On the drive home, I tell her I’m heading to Comrie tomorrow to meet a new friend. When I look over to make sure she hears me, her eyes are wide and a smile brightens half her face as though she can see right through the word friend.

I know I’m at an age where advice from my mom isn’t always desirable, but I’d give anything to hear some from her right about now.

THREE

NELLIE

The Trojan Horse Cafe is the one place in town that serves anything more elaborate than drip coffee, and I’m such a regular when I’m home that whoever is behind the counter has my drink started before I’m through the door. It’s one of the benefits of living in a small town, I guess.

I’m waiting for Enviro Guy, in one of the armchairs at the front of the cafe, hoping he shows up. I asked the barista to put EG’s drink on my tab. I figure he drove here, so the least I can do is buy him a drink. My mind is going a mile a minute as I wait. I’m so unbelievably nervous about seeing him again. Will he be as nice as he was on the train? Does he really want to buy a book? The mental inquisition comes to an abrupt halt when I see him open the door and walk in, bringing the smell of the late spring blooms that decorate the street with him. He gives me a small wave and notices my drink at the same time. He points to the front and mouths that he’ll be right back. I peek around the side of the chair, in time to see the barista pointing towards me and him giving me one of those “That wasn’t necessary” looks.

He’s not wearing a hat so his wavy dark hair on full display. It’s the kind of hair I’d want to run my fingers through if I wasn’t pretending to have a boyfriend. He’s also taller than I remember, although I’m sitting down so maybe it’s a matter of perspective more than anything.

“You didn’t need to pay for my drink,” he scolds, sitting down in the chair across from me. “But thank you,” he tacks on with a smile.

“You drove all the way here, without me even asking, might I add.” I smile back. “How was the drive?”

“Uneventful in just about every way.” He takes the lid of his coffee cup and blows on the dark liquid.

“Just about every way?”

“Some woman dodged out in front of me just as I pulled onto the street here. She came out of nowhere.”

“Ah.” I nod sagely. “That would be Edith.”

“Edith?”

“The town jaywalker.”

He stares back at me. “Town jaywalker, huh? Is that a position one has to apply for or is it inherited, assumed…”

He’s smiling again, and I try really hard not to look at those too-pointy canines, but I know I’m failing. I manage to pull my gaze from his teeth and drag my attention to the street. “Elected. She’s run unopposed in the last four elections.”

“And before that?”

“A guy named Albert Moyer held the position but died before the election.”

“Did he get hit by a car?”

“Would you believe natural causes got him in the end?”

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