Page 3 of Can We Skip to the Good Part?
“Seeing anyone special?” Rachel asked. “Because if not, I have a list of eligible women in this town, and even a few decent men, I could set you up with. Another check mark in the reasons to move column.”
“Thank you for honoring my fluidity, madam,” she said in her upper-crust speaking voice.
“It is my pleasure, other madam,” Rachel said, matching the voice they’d used in the old days of Lunsford Hall, lying on the floor of Ella’s room until 1 a.m., figuring out how they’d take over the world.
“But I think I’m good as is.” Romance, regardless of who, was not at all on the forefront of her mind. Ella had purposefully steered clear of anything flirty or romantic for quite some time. It had been eleven months since Britney LeCroy had called off their engagement exactly six days before their wedding. They’d booked the cutest little chapel on the lake and had just turned in their final draft of the seating arrangement to the wedding planner. Ella had even finished writing her vows. But on a rainy morning in Ella’s kitchen, Britney had explained with very definitive hand gestures that their interests were in such conflict that they’d never make it in the long run. The example she’d given when tossing their relationship in the trash? Britney liked bird-watching, and Ella enjoyed lazy mornings at coffee shops. She’d waited for more. There hadn’t been any. Ella had stared in disbelief. Well, good God. With those kinds of differences, they couldn’t possibly forge a successful future. They’d be insane to try, Britney had said. Ella could have argued that their unique qualities were what added texture to their relationship, which, inher opinion, had felt solid in every other sense. Well, until that stomach punch of a moment changed everything. Because the idea that Britney wasn’tall inwas enough for Ella to allow her own heart to break and walk away in favor of a life with someone who loved her for those lazy mornings. Her ego had sure taken a hit, though. And the new blind side this morning certainly didn’t help her feel like a valued human in the grand scheme.
She blew out a breath. “Maybe I’m coming to Virginia.”
“What’s that you say?” Rachel asked. Ella could almost see her placing a victorious hand on her hip. Very few people said no to Rachel, and this was another example. Honestly, it felt like a life jacket when Ella was sputtering water. How could she not grab it?
“I said, let’s do this!” she yelled into the phone to the sound of Rachel laughing and whooping. With a slow breath, Ella pulled herself out of the deep end and focused on the horizon. Life was what one made of it, right? Maybe this was just the opportunity she needed to turn the page and level the hell up and whatever other idioms she could come up with. “Tell the great state of Virginia that I’m on my way.”
ONE
Hoopty-Do
When impulsively packing up your life and moving to a new town without much of a plan, it was imperative that absolutely fucking everything go wrong. Ella had tempted fate and was finding out. On hour six of her fourteen-hour drive, her sound system and radio had gone out entirely, which made sense. Her car was older than her very straight-looking high school prom photo and just as suspect. After that, the snarky GPS woman had sent her on a long mission down a lonely road that had finally concluded with a dead end and a literal suggestion that she needed to walk the rest of the way. What the hell? She’d named the woman Beatrix Navigatrix and decided they were at war. She was also confident that Beatrix had thoroughly enjoyed that little stunt. Oh! And she was woefully out of snacks with three hours left to go on her drive. Horrific. Snacks were the backbone of any road trip. Ella swallowed her frustration and pressed on, excited for the shiny new life waiting for her in Everly Springs, just a hop, skip, and a jump from the big city where so very much happened. She liked the idea of a quieter existence with the flashy prestige of all those monuments just an hour’s drive away. Maybe she’d even work on buildingher Instagram presence, learn more about pop culture, or take up pickleball. Isn’t that what trendy people did? She sighed and faced her reality. “Nope. Not sure I’m capable of trendy.” Either way. This move was about reinvention, and she was more than eager to give that a shot.
Two hours into her journey, the song descended upon her. The jingle of her youth, the anthem of all third graders in Mrs. Levitz’s homeroom class. She began to sing it for the seventh or eighth time. “Oatmeal Hoopties to start your day. Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh. With Oatmeal Hoopties, things will go your way. Ohhh, ohhh, ohhh.” She briefly closed her eyes. What in the name of Hoda Kotb was wrong with her? The big box cereal companies had claimed victory over her brain and weren’t releasing it. It had come to this: a dark road in the middle of the night as she belted out the subpar lyrics to jingles meant to make her crave sugary carbs in the morning, and dammit, it was working. Give her these Hoopties! What she would pay right now for a convenience store to appear on the horizon under a spotlight from God with a busting-at-the-seams cereal aisle.
“Oatmeal Hoopties to start your day! Dammit, no. Uh-uh. Stop that immediately.” She hit the steering wheel in stern admonishment, but then relented, allowing herself to sing a quieter, more dignified version. She eyed her navigation screen. Beatrix was probably enjoying this battle. But not long after, Ella’s luck changed. In the distance, she saw a billboard for a Stop and Grin ahead, and exited in time. The lights of the gas station were a glorious beacon from heaven. Five minutes later, she happily strolled out of the automatic sliding doors with an individual cereal serving and a small carton of milk. Sitting on the hood of her red Mini Countryman in her comfy royal-blue coat, she consumed the wonderful cereal as the only other customer (possibly for hours) passed her on the way to his car.
“That’s how you live life,” he called cheerfully.
She wasn’t so sure of that, but had hope. “I’m working on it, Sir-with-the-Ballcap.” He tipped it and slid into his beat-up Chevy.
Alone in that parking lot, Ella took a moment, setting the cereal aside, to take stock. She was actually doing this brave thing. When Rachel had called within five minutes of Ella losing the absolute best job she’d ever had, it felt like an important sign blinking at her through the darkness like this very convenience store. Now, here she was, on her way, sponsored by Oatmeal Hoopties, and owning it. She couldn’t help but smile alone beneath the stars, knowing this was a bold new chapter in her life. She could feel the weight prickling her skin and warming her cheeks. She was proud of herself, of the bravery she’d shown and the initiative she’d harnessed.
The rest of her journey was quieter, more introspective as she sorted through her plans. She’d need a job, obviously. Then, friends, a favorite grocery store, and a cute coffee shop where they might learn her order—that'd be new. Eventually, she’d need a place of her own, though Rachel had been kind enough to offer up her second bedroom until Ella was on her feet financially.
It’s okay to be scared.It’s okay to be scared.
The mantra had been in her back pocket ever since she’d decided to pack up and move, and she needed it on the last leg of the trip more than ever. Ella placed a hand over her rapidly beating heart and grinned. Everything was going to be okay.
Everly Springs wasquiet when she pulled into town. The streets were hushed, lit by the occasional amber glow of a streetlight casting long shadows on sidewalks lined with tidy, older homes.As she drove on, dipping her head and peering out the upper portion of her windshield, Ella caught sight of a few recognizable signs—Dunkin’, Chipotle, a CVS that kept its lights on all night. They hinted at suburban convenience, while a darkened diner and a bookstore with a hand-lettered window display offered a mom-and-pop charm. It was the kind of place that slowed down after dark but didn't feel forgotten. Not quite rural, not quite suburban. Everly Springs felt like the edge of something. She couldn’t wait to get to know it better.
When she parked her Mini in front of the one-story white house with the red door, she made a point to memorize the moment as a culmination. Her shoulders ached, and her eyes were bleary from staring at a dark road, but she smiled as she knocked and waited with eager anticipation.
“Finally. Get in here immediately,” Rachel said, seconds after swinging the door open. She wore sea-green sweats that looked soft, almost furry to the touch. The legs swayed out with a bell-bottom cut. “I have beer and wine, and I missed your stupid face.”
She fell into Rachel’s open arms. “Bless you. I think I’ve earned it. No radio. So much cereal singing.”
“What?”
“Thank God it’s no longer important. Accept me into your world?”
“Yeah, weirdo.” She flashed a picture-perfect smile. “Without delay.”
She took a last glance up at the white house before being pulled through the threshold. The rest of the exterior was probably adorable, and if it hadn’t been well after midnight, Ella would have devoted the proper amount of time to absorbing every detail. In the dark, with only a porchlight to illuminate the exterior, she was filling in the blanks.
“Welcome to Chez Rachel. What’s mine is yours, and I almost mean that.” Rachel tossed in a wink. She wasn’t exactly kidding, either. Rach said what she thought and didn’t apologize. Ella found it refreshing in so many ways. Intimidating in others. As close as they were, it had been a few years since they’d inhabited the same space for long. Back in their OU days, they’d lived together for their last year of school in an apartment a block from campus. But in all honesty, it was probably more stressful on their friendship than not, which was all the more reason for Ella to be proactive about finding her own space in the coming weeks.
“You’re gonna die for this living room. I splurged and had it designed by Carter Lunsford. Behold.” With a sweeping gesture, Rachel presented the space, which was breathtaking. Whoever Carter was, they knew their stuff.
An L-shaped white sectional that would seat five was nestled on the back wall and extended into the center of the room. Sage curtains with the softest cream accents swooped from the many perfectly square windows. What looked to be floating shelves appeared on nearly every open wall space, housing vases, clocks, and framed photos, one of which featured her and Rachel from the day they graduated eleven years ago. What tiny babies they’d been, so unknowing about the world in front of them. Careers, heartbreak, and mortgages marched toward them as they toasted the big, bright future. “Rach, this place is seriously gorgeous.”
“Doesn’t it feel spacious in here? All Carter. He worked his magic and charged me like I was a Real Housewife. Well worth it.” She tossed a manicured hand to the side as she strolled through the room. “When you find a place, I’ll give you his Instagram. You’ll love what he can do with a throw rug.”
