Page 3 of Playing for Keeps in Starr's Fall
But now this woman—she couldn’t be more than twenty-five—was beaming at her, while the dark-haired man behind her tried to keep hold of a small, and very cute, wiry-haired dog.
“Are you new here?” the woman asked. “Are you moving in?”
Maggie glanced at the man, who smiled and waved. “Yes,” she said when she realized belatedly that it was her turn to talk. “We’re moving in.” She nodded toward the shuttered storefront. “We’re… we’re hoping to start a boardgame café here, actually.” There. She’d said it out loud, so now it had to happen, right?
“A boardgame café!” The woman sounded delighted, far more than Maggie might have expected. “That’s amazing.”
Maggie managed a smile. “Well, I hope so,” she said, mainly because she really did. She’d never started or managed a café, or even worked in one. She’d never so much as operated a cash register. She could play Scrabble and Monopoly when pressed, but not much else. Yet here she was, doing this crazy thing, this so very stupid thing, because it just might be the way for Ben to find his way back to himself. She hoped. Oh, Lord, how she hoped.
“I’m Laurie Ellis, and this is Joshua Reilly,” the woman continued, introducing them both. “I run the pet store Max’s Place, and he has the bookstore across the street.”
“Oh.” Maggie couldn’t help but be a little startled by so much overt friendliness. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m Maggie Parker, and this is my son Ben.” She put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, a gentle reminder for him to actually speak, like pulling a string on a talking doll.
“Heynicetomeetyou,” Ben said, his greeting one long mumbled word that Maggie was pretty sure neither of her new neighbors caught.
“Nice to meet you, too.” Laurie Ellis looked between Maggie and Ben, her hazel gaze seeming to take in too much. Could she see how battered they’d been by life, how bruised they both still felt? Maggie had wanted to start her new life in Starr’s Fall as someone happy, healthy, and whole. At least, she wanted to give that impression, but she had an uncomfortable feeling she’d failed at the first test. “I’m so glad you’re here,” Laurie continued, sounding like she meant it. “Welcome to Starr’s Fall.”
“Yes, um, thank you.” Now was probably the time to admit they weren’t actually moving here until January, but Maggie couldn’t figure out a way to say it that made sense, and in any case, it was too late, because with a friendly wave, Laurie Ellis and Joshua Reilly had moved down the street, to their own car.
“Mom, it’s freezing out here,” Ben said. “Can we go inside?” He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Yes, sure.” Maggie fumbled with the key and then unlocked the door, stepping into their new home. They’d settled on this place because it was right in the middle of Main Street, with some lovely old-fashioned details—a corniced ceiling, wide floorboards of golden oak, a deep bow window that was perfect for displaying boardgames. Plus, it was large enough for the sofas and tables they’d need for the café, and it already had a small kitchen in the back, for when they were ready to provide their own food. “Just the basics,” Ben had told her. “French fries and nachos and stuff like that.”
Looking around now, though, all Maggie felt was overwhelmed. Last May, she would have promised Ben anything—and she basically had. Starting over in Starr’s Fall, selling their house, and buying this place, agreeing that he could finish the school year online… she’d said yes to it all. Now she had to turn her rash promises into reality.
“Shall we look upstairs?” she suggested. Ben’s response was a shrug.
Maggie headed up the staircase in a separate hallway that rang alongside the store to the apartment above. The whole place was about the size of the kitchen in their old house, but the few rooms possessed a certain cozy, quaint charm. The second floor was just one big room, with windows at the front and the back and a kitchenette tucked into the back right corner, a fireplace at the front. Up another flight of stairs were two bedrooms, both small, and a bathroom, even smaller. Considering they were moving from a house that had twice as many bathrooms as bedrooms, all of them enormous, it was certainly a step down, but one they’d both agreed they wanted.
Now Maggie wasn’t so sure. Truth be told, shelikedher sunken marble tub with its profusion of jets. And, reality check, she and Ben were going to be able to heareverythingin each other’s bedrooms. Not something she’d relish, and she doubted he would, either.
Never mind. They went back down to the living space, and Maggie sat down in the window seat overlooking the empty street below. She could see herself curling up here with a book and maybe a cat. They didn’t have a cat, not yet anyway, but that could be on the list, maybe instead of the previously fantasized dog. Ben was more partial to cats, anyway, as she recalled. “What do you think?” she asked Ben, who was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking a little lost. “Family room sofa or living room sofa in this room?”
Ben glanced around. “Family room, definitely.”
Maggie gave a decisive nod. “I think so, too.” Their family room sofa was made of deep, squashy leather, while the living room furniture was modern, incredibly expensive, and even more uncomfortable. The interior decorator her mother-in-law had insisted she hire had told her it was how everyone who was anyone was styling their living rooms, and Maggie had been too meek to refuse. But now they could sell it all or leave it on the curb for the trash, because since Matt’s funeral her mother-in-law had more or less stopped speaking to her, and after sixteen years of a decidedly tense relationship, that was a somewhat welcome change. So really, no sofa and no mother-in-law could be considered a double win, although she hoped Matt’s mother stayed in touch for Ben’s sake. She knew it wasn’t a guarantee.
A sigh escaped her before she sucked it back in, not wanting Ben to see her falter for a moment. She could worry about her mother-in-law and their lack of relationship later. “We could move here early,” she ventured. They’d promised Lynn they’d go to Boston for Christmas, but nothing was keeping them in Greenwich except a sense of duty, or maybe propriety. Maggie hadn’t wanted it to look like she was running away, even if on some level she knew that was exactly what she was doing.
Ben looked tempted for a moment, but then he shook his head. “Nah, let’s keep it to January,” he said. “I’ve got the RQ Con, anyway.”
Maggie gave a mechanical nod. “Of course.” How could she have forgotten the weekend online conference, where Ben played the fantasy roleplaying game RainQuest for thirty-six hours straight? He’d done it for the first time last year, just a few months after Matt had died. Matt, Maggie knew, had been more than a bit dismissive about playing a game so obsessively, which Maggie sort of understood. But Ben didn’t consider RainQuest merely a game; it was something of a lifestyle choice, and it had become even more of one since his dad had died.
Maggie looked around their new home, the sunlight streaming through the window as the sky went white on its edges, the sun starting its inevitable descent to the dark horizon. “January it is, then,” she said, and her voice echoed through the empty room.
2
SIX WEEKS LATER
“I thought global warming meant it didn’t snow anymore.”
“Mom,” Ben replied in the tone of someone who has felt he’s had to say it a million times, “it’s climate change, not global warming, and it means the weather isvariable.”
“Right.” Maggie had meant it as a joke but clearly it had sounded like a grumble, which, truth be told, it probably was. Driving her ten-year-old station wagon through six inches of slushy snow wasn’t high on her bucket list, but here she was. They were finally moving to Starr’s Fall.
The last six weeks had been a blur of getting things organized for the sale of the house, the move to Starr’s Fall, and the start of their business… as well as freaking out internally while trying to remain manically upbeat for the sake of her son. She didn’t think she’d fooled Ben, and certainly not her sister Lynn.
“You don’t have to move, you know,” Lynn had told her over Christmas when Ben had been in the basement gaming and Lynn had broken out the bottle of Baileys Irish Cream. “You can unwind all of this, if you want to. It’s still possible.”
