Page 33 of This Moment

Her head snapped up. “Is that a compliment or…”

I chuckled. “It’s a compliment. Were you planning on having to buyfurniture?”

“I had it budgeted, yes. Not all rentals come fully furnished. Short term ones do, but not usually long term. You should know that.”

What did Cadie do before moving to Moose Lake? Wasn’t it Sally who said she worked in a bakery in Chicago? She said she loved to bake and worked in that industry, but she couldn’t make that much money as a baking assistant. I went back to reading the menu, but it was like she was reading my mind as she answered my unspoken question.

“I owned a bakery.”

It was my turn for my head to pop up. She was sharing, and I found myself holding my breath. “Past tense?”

She nodded. “Yes. I sold it a few months ago.”

“Why? Was it not doing well?”

She smiled. “It did well, but I was tired of working the grind. There early in the morning, staying until late in the evening. Then I’d go home, rinse and repeat. I had no life.”

I couldn’t help but smile. I had said the same thing describing my burnout.

“One day, I decided I didn’t want to be the boss. So, I sold it, took the money, invested some of it, and used the rest to make my move and start a new life.”

She chewed nervously on her lower lip, almost like she was worried I wouldn’t believe her.

Nodding, I replied, “Good for you, Cadie.”

“Thanks,” she said with a smile. “If you could do me a favor and not tell Opal. I like that she doesn’t know I’m even more experienced than I said I was.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Yes, please.”

I had a feeling Opal already knew Cadie was more experienced than she let on.

The waitress came back over and took our drink and food order. When she left, Cadie exhaled and looked directly at me. If I was a betting man, I would say she felt relieved to get that off her chest.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “So, what are your plans now that you have a fresh start and aren’t working nonstop as an attorney?”

“Write.”

Her eyes widened. “Okay, I wasn’t expecting that! Write what?” she asked. “Like a law book, fiction? Non-fiction?”

“God, not a law book,” I said with a shiver. “I’d like to write a fictional book. Mystery novel.”

The waitress brought Cadie’s Diet Pepsi and my lemonade. We both thanked her, and Cadie asked her next question.

“Have you always wanted to write a book?”

I nodded and moved uneasily in my seat. I wasn’t sure if I should share the experience I had with the guy on the subway. I still was wondering if it was all my imagination. My inner self manifesting a change of destiny all on its own.

“I have. That’s what I wanted to do with my career before my parents pretty much guilted me into law.”

“I’m sorry, Kian. It has to be hard when your parents don’t support your goals and dreams in life.”

“If I’m honest, I could have followed my dream, attended school, and got an English or creative writing degree.”

“Why didn’t you?”

I felt the heat of embarrassment creep up my neck. “Money. My parents told me if I didn’t go to school for law,I would be cut off. And as ugly and spoiled as it sounds, I liked having money at my disposal. My mother and father threw anything and everything at us growing up just to keep us happy and out of their hair. I got so used to having what I wanted that the idea of losing it all and making it on my own…well…it scared me.” I sighed at the audacity of what I just said. “The life of privilege, I know, poor rich kid.”

---