Page 76 of Meet Me on Lilac Lane
Mia gave a little laugh. God didn’t always answer this clearly, but today she couldn’t deny He was showing His love for her. She remembered reading this proposal but had forgotten it existed in the hassle of the rest of the job. A woman had proposed a curio shop that specialized in maritime-themed treasures. The attached photos of the product she intended on carrying, as well as some design ideas, looked perfect for their hopes for downtown Jonathon Island.
Her heart moved quicker than a school of minnows when someone tried to catch them as she dialed the number written on the paper. Hopefully, this Grace Marconi would still be interested in moving.
“Hi, is this Grace?” She twirled a pen through her fingers.
“This is she.”
“Hi, this is Mia Franklin from Jonathon Island? I’m calling you about your application.” Mia explained to Grace that the council was still looking for candidates for the revitalization program. “Are you still interested?”
Several minutes later, she hung up the phone and pumped her fist in the air. She dialed another number. “Dani? I have some really good news.”
Nothing like a run in the sun to make a man feel better about life. Cody got tired of his own company this afternoon in the shop and decided to hit the bricks.
His route took him along the road, past businesses, and then through the older, residential area of town. Most of the houses he’d worked on were through here. A run past them couldn’t hurt. Couldn’t hurt to run past Mia’s either. Maybe catch a glimpse of her dark curls pulled back by that bandanna that brought out the green of her eyes.
I think choosing you might be a good choice.Her words sank into his heart and found a nice spot to live.
He hadn’t stopped thinking about their date the past few days. The way Mia had looked in the moonlight…Yep. They needed another one. Soon. How often could he take her out while still honoring her wishes to go slow?
So, yeah, that part of his life was going well. The “what to do about the fishing business” part…not so much. He hung a left down Lilac Lane. At the dead end, he would turn back around and head home. His smartwatch buzzed, alerting him that he’d run four miles already.
Shoot. Mia’s house looked as dark as a night out on Lake Huron. Lights off, curtains pulled. Must have a meeting in town. His feet pounded past her place, but he pulled up short at the Franklins’ house. Mrs. Franklin held a grocery bag in each arm with a plastic bag dangling from her right hand. As she reached into the purse slung on her left elbow, her bags tipped.
He jogged up the short sidewalk. “Mrs. Franklin. Let me help you with those.” Careful not to drop her groceries, he took the paper bags.
“Thanks.” She fished her keys out of her purse and unlocked the front door. She reached for the bags again.
“I can bring them in, if you’d like.” A pause that stretched long and thin fell between them. Constance Franklin had not had much to say to him or his father in the years since her husband and son passed away.
He understood that. He had a hard time talking to her too. He was alive, and her son wasn’t. The guilt of that tore a hole in his gut every day.
Walking into the Franklin house hit just as hard. How many times had he been here with Troy over the years? He knew this place almost as well as he knew his parents’ home.
He breathed in the cinnamon scent of the candles Mrs. Franklin loved, walked past the “wall of fame” featuring Troy in his high school uniform, in his cap and gown, and various ones with friends and family. He paused at the one with Troy in a tux and Mia in her wedding gown, before entering the kitchen to set the bags on the table, scarred from many years of use.
Mrs. Franklin put down her things too then went to the sink and filled an electric teakettle.
He braced a hand on the back of one of the wooden chairs ringing the table. “I guess I’ll?—”
“Stay for a cup of tea.” Mrs. Franklin didn’t look at him as she reached for a pair of coffee cups still in the second cupboard from the left.
Hokay.“I’m a little sweaty from my run.”
She looked at him then. “I was married to a fisherman for almost thirty years. Sweat at my kitchen table is not going to be a problem.”
He pulled out his usual chair and sat down, his arms naturally finding their places on the armrest.
“I’m going back to check on Mom, before the kettle whistles.” Mrs. Franklin slipped out of her jacket as she left the room.
He looked around the warm room. Light-colored cabinets lined the walls. A flowery curtain hung over the window above the sink. The once familiar place held so many memories. He’d been here almost as much as at his own house in high school, then less often after Troy and Mia got married. Then not at all these last two years.
The kettle whistled, and he stood and poured water over the teabags in the mugs.
She’d given him Troy’s cup from pottery class. He remembered their pottery unit in school. He and Mia and Troy had all decided to make matching cups. His and Troy’s had turned out a little lopsided, but Mia’s had been perfect. Looked like Mrs. Franklin had held on to Troy’s, despite its flaws. The blue rim had a chip in it.
Cody moved back to the table and sat. A few moments later, Mrs. Franklin joined him again.
Mrs. Franklin cupped her hands around her tea and stared down into it. “Thank you.”
