Page 3 of The Now in Forever
Grandma’s lips purse. “Want some tea?”
“No, thanks. Robin’s expecting me for dinner.”
She wraps me in a tight hug. “I didn’t mean to overstep. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to dive headfirst into another teaching job if it’s not what you want anymore. This is your one precious life. You can make it anything you want it to be.”
Her hair is soft on my cheeks, and maybe it’s all this talk about my life, or maybe it’s the fatigue from all the driving, or maybe it’s being here and having Grandpa not be, but a tear rolls down my cheek, then another, and another.
Grandma releases her hug and hands me a hanky from her pocket, a small yellow butterfly embroidered in the corner. “Come back for a visit.”
“I will,” I say, wiping my tears.
Back in the car,I press play onAnne of Green Gables, trying to shake off the heavy conversation.Ever since the first summer Robin, Ahn, and I met, I’ve loved this book and always have it downloaded on my phone. Good thing, too, since the audiobook I downloaded specifically for the trip was over before I even made it out of Montana.The Motorcycle Diaries,Robin’s pick this year for book club because it’s Nathan’s favorite. It was okay, way shorter than I expected. If I’m being honest, I was looking for things to dislike about it. Robin would never pick this book herself. She’s always choosing memoirs and personal development books—never call them self-help; it’s a thing. Will next year’s pick also be one of Nathan’s favorites? If they have kids, will we be readingThe Cat in the Hat?
The phone rings, jarring me out of my silent rant.
“Anh, you’re saving my sanity right now.”
“As usual. How long left of the drive do you have?”
“I’m about thirty minutes away. Are you and Melissa already there?”
There’s a heavy silence.
“Anh?”
“Robin didn’t tell you?”
I bite my lip. Tell me? Anh can’t come. The whole point of all of us staying at Nathan’s family beach house for the summer is to commemorate our twentieth anniversary of Story Club. Twenty years! How can we commemorate with one third of the club missing? “You’re not coming.”
“I am coming, only not for a couple of weeks. I couldn’t get out of work. But we’ll be there for the Fourth and then again at the end of summer.”
It’ll be just me and the lovebirds. Not that it would be much different if Anh and Melissa were there. They’ve been engaged and madly in love for years now.
“How was the move?” Anh asks.
“Okay. I got rid of most of my stuff, and what’s left I just dropped off at my grandma’s.”
“That’s nuts. I can’t believe you’re moving.”
“Yep. I applied for a job in southeast Portland teaching English at a private school.”
Anh sighs. “Just like Anne Shirley.”
I laugh.Anne of Green Gablesis how we met and formed Story Club—named from the book as well. I was visiting my grandma as I did every summer, and she signed me up for swim lessons. Anh and I were both sitting on the bench waiting for class to start, readingAnne of Green Gables, which, in retrospect, given our age—nine—isn’t that amazing, but at the time it felt like destiny. Because Robin and Anh were neighbors and already best friends, we convinced Robin to read the book, and thus Story Club was formed.
“I have to run sweetie. Drive safe.”
“I always do.”
Anh makes a kissy noise through the phone and hangs up.
I roll down the window. The trees are so dense, I can’t see the ocean, but the salty tang in the air lets me know it’s there. Sunlight spears through the branches, and I lower my rose gold aviator sunglasses. The car rounds a corner, and there it is, the ocean. White-capped waves breaking up an endless expanse of blue. I switch off the audiobook. “Cruel Summer” plays over the radio, and I put my handout the window, relishing the fresh air on my arm while I take the exit off the 101.
On the very edge of town is a white stone coffee shop with tables out front that’s closed now, but I make a mental note to go there tomorrow. I picture myself sitting at a window seat with my laptop and a perfectly made latte with a little foam heart on top, clacking away at my keys. My dual timeline mystery is coming along. I hope to have it finished by the end of summer, but how many times have I thought that before about a project? This time, though, nothing’s stopping me, I have time to write.
The main street of the small town of Fortune Falls is like stumbling onto the set of a movie. Low brick buildings, mixed with others with weather-worn wooden siding, line the avenue, each business with a different color awning hanging above it, from faded red to sky blue.
The corner building is a bar with a massive, smashed sign hanging out front, only thevernofTavernlit up. The bright-red wooden door is closed, but the neon sign in the window flashes open.
