Page 49 of Say Something
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My reprieve from twenty questions and opinions about me and Danny was short-lived. The following day I was at my parent’s house with the rest of my siblings for Sunday dinner, and it seemed that everyone had something to say about us, even Karla who rarely said anything to anyone about anything.
“I always thought you two were the cutest couple,” she’d admitted while we were setting the table together.
I always thought she and Bryan were the real town golden couple since they never actually left. The disqualifier was that Karla’s family moved to Oak River her senior year, so she wasn’t considered an Oak River kid. The joke was on Oak River though, considering Bryan and Karla were the couple who made it—did the whole family and white picket fence thing—right there in Oak River.
“Dean said you two were looking pretty cozy the other night,” Michael added.
Then why did he blow the damn car horn??I wanted to ask. I didn’t, though, because I didn’t want to draw additional attention. Not that the word “cozy” hadn’t elicited questioning looks from Mom and Melissa. It did.Damn him. Michael hadsucha big mouth.
“George Malone mentioned he saw you two at the store together a few weeks ago. Buying paint supplies?”
I gaped at my father.Seriously?Since when was my dad in on the gossip? Or Mr. Malone, the owner of the hardware store. Dad looked properly chagrined, stirring his fork around his mashed potatoes, like even he hadn’t realized what he’d said.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Danny,” I lied through my teeth to my family. I was probably going to be struck by lightning on the way home. Just fantastic.
Melissa snorted, the brat. I couldn’t wait until I had some dirt on her. She would pay for her betrayal.
“Would it be such a terrible thing if there was something going on?” Mom asked. Her tone was innocent, but her intent wasn’t. I might have been thirty years old, but it was still weird talking about my relationship, or lack thereof, with my parents at the dining room table. Especially with my niece and nephews at said table. Their wide eyes were volleying back and forth between whichever adults were speaking at the time, a conversation that was way above their level of understanding.
“I didn’t say that,” I said.
“Gwen said you stopped by the other day,” she added.
“It was nice to see her.”
“She said the same.” She looked at me, as if questioning whether I’d elaborate on my conversation with Danny’s mother.
Not here. Not now. I hoped I could convey that through my eyes. If they only knew, this type of inquisition was one of the reasons I had stayed away all these years.
“How’s it going with the new town hall in Smithfield?” Bryan asked Michael, effectively moving the conversation away from my non-existent, yet tense love life. I sent him a small smile of thanks, to which he nodded in acknowledgement.
The boys talked shop for a while. Bryan’s architecture firm designed the town hall Michael and Dean’s company was building. My siblings were doing amazing things—they were happy—and they didn’t even have to leave Oak River to do them. Most of all, they’d had each other all these years.
I wouldn’t send myself back tothatplace again. I couldn’t change the past, only the future. I was in Oak River now. I was part of the togetherness with my family now. That was what mattered.
“The Fall Festival is coming up. Are you attending?” Karla asked me while the guys continued to talk about framing and insulation.
The Fall Festival was a big deal in Oak River, right around the time the leaves began to turn beautiful shades of yellow, orange, and red. It was held in late September, shortly after school started back up, and sort of kicked off the fall season. The festival always took place on a Sunday, not to interfere with Friday or Saturday night lights—high school or college football. Oak River didn’t care much for professional sports; we were all about our local teams though.
“Yep. I’ll actually have a booth there,” I told her. It would be my first attempt at marketing the firm. If I was being real, it would be the first time I’d be marketingmyselfsince that’s what it was all about in a small town. It wasn’t the place or the thing, it was the person, or people, behind it.
“Oh,” she said. “I didn’t know that. I’m on the planning committee this year. No one told me.”
“I actually just signed up on Friday, so it probably hasn’t made it down the pipeline yet.”
“It’ll be great to have you there. And the sponsorship monies go straight to charity. This year it’s a childhood cancer foundation.”
“That’s so wonderful. I love what this year’s committee has done with the event,” my mother added. She looked at me, shaking her head. “Last year, Lorraine Duncan was in charge, and she made an absolute mess of things. She completely forgot to include activities for the children, even though the committee mentioned it a number of times. People were so disappointed.”
“Well, I’m looking forward to it,” I said. “It’ll be nice to have the opportunity to put myself out there, maybe drum up some work.”
Honestly, I was so bored at work. My job was perfect for George—an older man ready for retirement—because it was so incredibly slow. But for me, someone who was accustomed to running at eighty miles per hour, it was too slow. I had wanted the change of pace, sure, but there was one day last week where I literally sat at my desk all day making a chain of paperclips that stretched from one side of the office to the other. That couldn’t be my career. It just couldn’t. I aspired to do much more than that.
“Things slow at the practice?” Dad guessed.
“Yeah,” I admitted. “I’m sure part of it is just that people need to get comfortable with Mr. Smith not being the go-to attorney anymore, and part of it is that small towns aren’t exactly active in the legal department.”
