Page 5 of Playing for Keeps in Starr's Fall
“I think there’s some in the car.” She’d packed a box of emergency supplies for when the movers came—scissors, tape, coffee mugs, kettle. “Hold on one sec,” she said, and headed back outside.
A few minutes later, she was back with the promised tape, and she and Ben unrolled the banner to position it diagonally across the window.
“Maybe it’s too much,” he said, the self-doubt that had so often dogged him creeping back once more.
“It’s not,” Maggie insisted. “We want people to know what we’re doing. Why not make a little bit of a splash?”
“I guess.” But his brief moment of buoyancy had clearly gone flat, and Maggie knew that trying to jolly her son back into any sort of enthusiasm would backfire bigtime. She focused instead on simply getting the banner up, and by the time they’d done that, the moving truck was pulling up in front of the store. Their life here really was beginning.
* * *
The next few hours were a blur of boxes, as Maggie told the movers where she wanted the furniture, made them endless cups of coffee, and discovered that the big armoire she’d brought from her bedroom did not fit up the second set of stairs.
“Just put it in the living room,” she said, determined to be pragmatic. “We can keep books in it, I guess.”
A headache was thrumming at her temples and her shoulders had been creeping up toward her ears all afternoon. She didn’twantto be stressed, but she was. Every box or piece of furniture that the movers brought in made her realize yet again that this was really happening. She had moved, at the age of forty-one, to a place where she knew absolutely no one, to run a business she had absolutely no experience of. Her sister was right. This was insane.
Her mother had thought she was crazy as well. Widowed herself three years ago, she’d made herself indispensable to her community in Pennsylvania—baking for charity, delivering Meals on Wheels, volunteering at the local preschool. Just hearing about her mother’s schedule exhausted her.
“You should stay in Greenwich, Maggie,” she’d said when Maggie had first floated the idea of moving to Starr’s Fall. “Where you know people. Get involved in things. Keeping busy helps, trust me.”
Maggie had definitelynotkept busy. She couldn’t count the number of days she’d lain in bed till noon or binge-watchedIs It Cake?until her eyeballs ached. She could tell a real cake from fifty paces, however, or so she liked to believe. As for the people she knew? A lot of them hadn’t wanted to know her, after Matt’s death, and her friends from college or high school had slumped into yearly Christmas cards and the occasional well-meant text.
Maggie knew that all of that was at least partly her fault. When Matt had got his mega promotion, she hadn’t really gelled with the new group of hedge fund managers and their blonde, Botoxed wives that had become their social circle. To be fair, she hadn’t really tried, and she should have. Blonde hair and Botox did not disqualify someone from being a kindred spirit. It just meant they were starting from a different place.
But because of Ben, she’d chosen to leave it—and them—all behind. Sometimes a fresh start was what you needed.
“No regrets,” Maggie muttered under her breath, and Ben gave her a sharp look.
“What did you say?”
She tried for a sunny smile. “Just talking to myself. I think the movers are almost done. How about pizza for dinner?”
He gave a little shrug. “Okay.”
“Great.” Maggie went in search of her wallet to tip the movers and get her credit card out. She really hoped Starr’s Fall had Door Dash or Uber Eats. Surely they weren’tthatfar off the beaten track.
They were. After the movers had left, happy with their generous tip, she tried four different delivery services, only to be informed that they did not deliver to her zip code. Never mind. There had to be a pizza place in Starr’s Fall, right?
“Did we get pizza when we had that vacation here?” she asked Ben, and he looked at her blankly.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
Of course he didn’t remember. It had been two and a half years ago. In fact, Maggie reflected, both her and Ben’s memories of those two vacations were probably very hazy indeed… and yet they’d based their whole life plan on returning to a place they barely remembered and had only been to for two weeks in total.
Why, again?
No regrets.
“Slice of Heaven is five minutes outside of town,” Ben ventured, scrolling on his phone. “No delivery, but they take phone orders.”
“Great.” Maggie made the call, ordering their usual—a large cheese pizza with black olives and pineapple—and then turned to her son. “You want to come with me to pick it up?”
Ben’s gaze slid sideways as he shook his head. “No, I’m good. I think I’ll unpack some stuff in my room.”
“Okay.” Her heart gave a painful little twist at the thought of leaving him alone, which was kind of ridiculous, because he was fourteen years old, fifteen in April. But still… “I’ll just be a few minutes.”
“Yeah, okay.”
