Page 50 of Playing for Keeps in Starr's Fall
“Seems like she’s settled in.”
“She has,” Maggie confirmed. “Thank you so much for this cake. Ben, look.” The cake had the logo from his banner printed onto the icing, complete with the die, the pawn, and the Sylvana figurine. Lynn must have gotten it from their website.
“Wow, thanks, Aunt Lynn!” Ben looked boyishly pleased. “That’s really cool.”
“What’s really cool is this place,” she returned. “I’m so proud of you both.” Lynn straightened, giving Maggie a frank look. “Now, what can I do to help?”
Maggie had thought she was pretty organized, but now that the moment was approaching, it felt as if there were a million more things to do. The espresso machine needed to be turned on; the baked goods freshly delivered from The Rolling Pin put into the glass case; cups laid out; the floor swept one last time.
The three of them buzzed around the room, plumping pillows and restacking games, trying to make everything perfect. Ben put a mellow jazz playlist on for background music and got a few games out as “suggested plays.” It was ten minutes to ten, and a few people were already milling around outside the store—Laurie and Joshua, Annie Lyman, Zoe Wilkinson, and a family with young kids that Maggie had never seen before. Her heart swelled with gratitude and affection for every single person there—this town really was making an effort. They were coming out for her, for Ben, and it meant so much.
Then she saw Zach.
He was in the back of the small crowd, wearing his usual t-shirt and plaid shirt combo with worn jeans and scuffed hiking boots, a paper bag tucked under one arm, his expression friendly but, Maggie feared, a touch reserved. Was she imagining the cool way he was surveying the scene, his eyes slightly narrowed, his expression unreadable?
She faltered in the middle of fanning some napkins on the counter, and then hastily put them in a pile before trying to catch Zach’s eye to give him a welcoming smile. A smile that she hoped managed to convey, in the simple curving of her lips, how sorry she was, as well as glad that he’d made it. How she wanted to talk and hoped he did too. Even if all that could be communicated with a single smile, it didn’t matter, because he didn’t look at her once.
“Mom, it’s two minutes to ten. Do you think we can open? There’s, like, twenty people out there now.” Ben’s voice was full of excitement and only a trace of anxiety as he glanced outside at the growing crowd. “People want to come in!”
“I think we should do it,” Lynn said, and Maggie nodded, tearing her gaze away from Zach, again.
“Okay,” she agreed, “let’s do it. Ben, do you want to do the honors?”
Her son’s eyes widened with panic at the thought. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” Maggie replied, smiling. “This was your idea, remember? I didn’t even know what a boardgame caféwas.” For a poignant second, she recalled the scene, ten months ago now—Ben lying on the hospital bed, his wrists heavily bandaged, spring sunshine pouring through the window, her heart as heavy as a bowling ball as she’d considered the total wreckage of their lives. “How can we make this better?” Maggie had asked him, needing him to answer, toknow, because whatever it was, she was already certain she would do it. “What do you want to change about our lives?”
Ben’s reply had been stark and wrenchingly honest. “Everything,” he’d said simply.
Maggie had mentally staggered under that statement, the awful enormity of it, but then she’d forged ahead and asked him for details. With some gentle prompting, Ben had shyly started to paint a picture of the life he’d dreamed of—no more high school bullying, and in fact no more high school at all; he’d rather be homeschooled. He wanted to live in a small town where people knew and liked each other, open a boardgame café where he could help out and teach people the games he loved, especially RainQuest. He had, Maggie recalled poignantly, even mentioned having a cat.
And here they were, she thought with both pride and gratitude, living out that dream in just about every detail. She’d made it happen for Ben. They’d made it happentogether, and so had Zach… who still wasn’t meeting her eye.
“Go ahead, Ben,” Maggie encouraged her son, forcing her fears about Zach to the back of her mind. “Open the door and welcome people in. This is your moment. Enjoy it!”
Ben gulped, then nodded, a sparkle coming into his eye that filled Maggie with joy as well as relief. “Okay,” he said, like he was talking himself into it. “Okay.” Then, straightening his shoulders in a way that made her feel a rush of fierce love and pride for her son, he went to the door and threw it open.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called out in a booming voice that had Lynn smothering an affectionate laugh. “Welcome to Your Turn Next!”
A cheer went up and then people began to file in, exclaiming over everything—the sofas, the games, the baked treats, even Penny, who was curled up in the window seat, surveying everyone with the kind of haughty arrogance only a cat could possess. Within minutes, Maggie was too busy to worry about Zach; before he’d even come in, the family with little kids was asking if they had Candyland, and Maggie was bringing them over to the section of the bookshelf that Ben had organized for all the younger-player games. She glanced at the carving of a snake and ladder that Zach had made on the shelf’s joint, and had to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.
The next hour passed in a blur; Maggie manned the espresso machine while Lynn did the cash register—she had been intending to do both herself but quickly realized what an impossible job that was—and Ben acted as host, welcoming people in, recommending games, and helping people set up them up as well as learn the rules and strategies. Every chance she got, Maggie snuck a look at her son, who was so clearly in his element, relishing being the one with the know-how, making it all happen.
“The Dixit expansion pack is really worth the investment,” she overheard him explain seriously to a family with teenagers who had come in and were sitting all together on the three-seater sofa. “Especially once you’ve played a few times. But if you’re just starting out, go with the original cards, for sure. They’re pretty wild.”
“You know,” Lynn said quietly, when there was a brief lull in the coffee orders, “I had my doubts about this whole venture, as I made abundantly clear, but looking at him here, Mags… you did the right thing. I’ve never seen Ben so happy.”
“Thank you,” Maggie whispered. Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them back. It felt good not to just to hear her sister say that, but to see it and know it herself. They’d chased a dream and amazingly, thankfully, it had worked out.
Inevitably, her gaze moved to Zach. She’d been achingly conscious of him the whole time, even at her busiest—where he was in the room, who he was talking to, what he was doing. Every time he raked a hand through his hair and let it flop back onto his forehead, she noticed. The way he tilted his head back when he smiled. How he rocked back on his heels. His easy laugh as he cocked his head. Yes, she was aware of it all, because, she realized, she’d come to know him so well.
He was chatting with Annie Lyman now, over a game of bananagrams they seemed to have abandoned; they were clearly more intent on their conversation than forming a crossword with the tiles in front of them. He still hadn’t looked at her.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Lynn asked quietly, following Maggie’s gaze. “That’s Zach, I’m assuming? The most gorgeous guy in the room?”
“Yes.” Maggie let out a small, sad laugh. “And I tried.” She paused, unable to tear her gaze away from him. “I think… I think maybe the moment has passed.”
“The moment never passes, Mags,” Lynn told her with a sternly knowing look. “Not unless you let it.”
