Page 32 of The Friendly Fall

I follow suit, noting that both women’s eyes are on me. As soon as the creamy, smooth texture hits my tongue, I realize it’s everything they said it would be.

“So?” Marilyn leans in, her eyes wide. “What do you think?”

I force myself to prematurely swallow the bite so as not to be rude when I answer her. “I think it’s amazing.”

“Ah ha! I told ya,everyoneloves it.” Marilyn smirks as she nudges Eliza, giving her a funny, playful look.

“Okay, okay, you’re right. We haven’t found anyone who doesn’t like it.” She laughs, reaching for her glass of tea.

“And you won’t,” Marilyn retorts. “But anyway, we’re really glad that you joined us for dinner, Nick. The more the merrier.”

“Of course,” I say. “Thanks for having me.” I then turn to Eliza. “So, how’s your photography business coming? Any potential clients?”

Eliza shrugs. “A couple old friends want me to come to Chicago and take pictures, but that’s not going to happen any time soon.”

I nod. “I’m sure you just have to give it a little time, and before you know it, you’ll have more clients than what you have time for.”

“Wouldn’t that becrazy,” Eliza replies, though her tone is full of disbelief. “I’d be happy to just make enough to start moving my savings upwards instead of slowly downward.”

“Hey, you gotta dream big.” I smile.

“Nick’s right,” Marilyn adds, giving her a look. “There’s no doubt you have the talent. You just have to put in the hard work and believe in yourself.”

“But you know what,” I say, my heart skipping a beat as I gather my courage. “You might be able to find some potential clients at the Pumpkin Festival this weekend. I could take you?” I hardly manage to choke out the last question, my mouth feeling like cotton.

Eliza freezes, her fork full of chicken pot pie suspended in midair. “Um…”

“Well, I think that’s a great idea,” Ms. Marilyn urges, giving me a thoughtful grin. “And it’d probably be a lot more fun to go with Nick than me. Besides, I already promised Martha that I’d attend the festival with her; we’ll be handing out candy at the church booth.”

“Are you sure?” Eliza turns to her grandma. “I could sit at the booth with you.”

My heart sinks at the response. I can’t tell if she’s just being a thoughtful granddaughter or if she’s trying to avoid me.

“Oh please,” Ms. Marilyn dismisses her. “You need to get out and about, not be stuck at a booth with a couple of old ladies—not that your mother is old,” she adds quickly, shooting me a wink.

Eliza goes silent for a moment before she finally lets out a sigh, turning to me. “Okay, sure. It might be fun to go to the festival. As friends.”

Friends.

Well, that was clear.

But I smile anyway because it’s still a win in my book. “Perfect.”

Chapter Twelve

Eliza

I stare at the explosion of clothes on the bed, none of them having made the cut for the evening. I don’t even know why I’m having such a hard time finding the right outfit.

“You know he’s going to be here in ten minutes, right?” Granny lingers in the doorway, an eyebrow raised.

“Iknowthat,” I groan, glancing down at my current outfit. It’s a pair of light-wash jeans with a black T-shirt and the same old burnt orange flannel.

It’s justso …plain.

My hair is fixed in nice waves, and contrary to what’s become my new norm, I have make-up on. But still, it just doesn’t feel like it’s good enough.

“You look cute, and I’m sure Nick will think the same thing.”

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