Page 18 of With Stars in Her Eyes
“Hmm… so how oftenhaveyou heard from your mom since moving here…?”
“Marshall…” I pulled my coat tighter around me.
“Sorry,” he said with a small, sheepish wince. “You’re still going on vacation with all of them in a few weeks?”
“Yes.” I groaned. “I’m bunking with two of my nieces because Mom apparently said, ‘Oh sweet, Thea will be fine with it.’ I guess I sometimes wish I was as good at quitting people—or putting up boundaries I guess—as I was at quitting everything else.” I sat down on a bench near a large magnolia tree, trying to ignore that my ass was going to be frozen soon.
“You don’t quit everything else.” Marshall sat beside me. “You know I love your mom. She was basically an extra aunt to me my entire childhood…”
“But…”
“Shedoesn’tlet you be you.”
“She loves me. We have a special thing because I remind her of Grandpa, and—”
Marshall gazed across the field as a muscle twitched in his jaw. “She uses you as her emotional support child.”
“Have youmetmy other siblings?”
“Fair. But that doesn’t mean she can treat you the way she does. She drags you to parties with her country club people and then picks at you. I’ve seen it myself.” Marshall plucked an icicle off his beard and flicked it away.
“She’s just not very sensitive.”
“How many times has she called you since you moved here?”
“A few times a day.”
“How many times has she asked you aboutyourlife?”
I folded my arms over my chest, partially because I was cold and partially because this was a pot-and-kettle situation. “Well, while we’re on the subject of parents, have you talked to your dad about whatever is happening at the pub?”
Marshall jolted. “Hey.” He looked up at the sky, which was an opaque mass of fluffy clouds. “So how ’bout those stars?” He clinked his travel mug with mine.
“Sure are pretty, ain’t they?” I chuckled, feeling a little like I’d won some battle I didn’t quite understand.
It wasn’t like Marshall to keep secrets. Between the late nights arguing with the pub manager and the multiple calls from his agent, something was up. If he really wasn’t ready to talk about it, I could be patient. Well, somewhat patient… for a little while at least.
“So… do you know anything about Courtney who works at the bookstore?”
“You have a crush onCourtney who works at the bookstore? Samantha’s friend from college?ThatCourtney?”
“I didn’t say that…” I scrunched up my face. “But also… What do you know about her?”
Marshall rubbed his chin. “Just that she’s Samantha’s friend from college. She’s a musician. That’s about it.”
“Where’d they go to college?”
“One of the good ones? New England maybe?”
“Helpful.” I sighed. “I’m regretting asking. How do you know she’s a musician? Denise said something about that too.”
“Heard that through the grapevine. She’s never been very chatty with me, truth be told. I’ve only been around her for a handful of family things for Samantha though. Besides Samantha, I know she’s pretty close to Ms. Jeannie—she’s the owner of the plant shop the pub shares a building with. That’s really all I know I guess.”
“Why don’t men ever know anything?” My grumbling yawp of frustration echoed off the trees.
“You could—I don’t know—ask your lady for her number instead of grilling me.”
“Blech, please don’t call her my lady like I’m talking about engaging in some kind of Ren Faire LARP. And asking you what you know is not grilling you. Geez Louise.”
