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Lily
“Magical Flower Juice”
“Oh, hell no!” I stage whisper when I see Wes opening my bedroom window as far as it will go.
“It’s fine,” he says. “It’s not that far down.”
“I don’t want you to jump—you could break your ankle! Just wait! Just wait!” I run to the door again and open it a crack. “Hey, Dad! Vicky left chicken sandwiches in the fridge—they’re really good!”
“Got it!” he says.
I shut the door again. “Okay, he’s in the kitchen.” I tear the top sheet off my bed and tie the end of it to the foot of the heavy bedframe that’s closest to the window.
Wes is laughing so hard he’s squeezing his eyes shut and holding on to his stomach. “What are you doing?”
“This way you can hang down farther before you jump!” I twist the sheet up tight, make a knot at the end, and drop it out the window. “Bon voyage,” I say.
He looks very serious all of a sudden. “Have you done this for another guy before?”
“Of course not. Jesus! This is what they do in the movies! I love you—go!” I kiss him on the cheek and give him a little shove, holding on to the sheet and bracing my feet against the wall for extra support.
He’s laughing again as he swings one leg over the ledge. “You’re insane.”
“I’m a fucking genius. Now get out of here!”
I’m too nervous to watch him go once he disappears from view, but soon there’s no tension on the sheet so I peek out while I pull it back up. Wes is casually sauntering out onto the lawn, back toward the gazebo. He’s not limping, so all is well.
I shove the sheet under the bed—not that my dad would ever actually come in here—and skip downstairs to the kitchen.
My father is wearing the same suit he wore when he left, sitting at the island as he eats a sandwich and looks at his laptop.
“Hi,” I say. “How was the conference?”
He nods and chews. “Worth the trip,” he says after swallowing and wiping his mouth. “Have you been to Seattle?”
“No. Mom used to talk about taking me to see the islands off the coast of Seattle, but we never did.”
He looks down at the mention of my mother. “I thought maybe you could have gone there when you were…away.”
“No, I didn’t. So, I’ve had an interesting week too,” I say as I pull the pitcher of iced tea from the fridge and grab two glasses. “You want iced tea?” He nods, and I pour him a glass before continuing. “You remember Mrs. Naylor? My drama teacher at Saint Mary’s?”
He covers his mouth with the napkin and speaks with his mouth full. “Her husband is a client.”
Of course. He never went to my school productions. “Right. Wes mentioned that.” I somehow manage to say Wes’s name without smiling. “Anyway, she’s still the drama teacher at Saint Mary’s, and when she heard I was back in town, she called me up and asked me to be her assistant director for the Shakespeare play they’re doing this summer. At the school.”
His brows knit together. “And?”
“And I started a few days ago. Not during work hours—I’m still assisting Wes.”Shit, I totally smiled when I said his name that time.“But I go to Saint Mary’s at night on weekdays and during the day on weekends. It’s really fun. I’m happy.”
“Oh,” he says. I think he sounded more excited when I told him about the chicken sandwiches.
“And that’s where I’m headed back to now…”
He nods. “Must be nice to have a hobby,” he says. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your job.”
“It doesn’t.” I slam my glass down onto the counter, a lot harder than I meant to, startling both of us. “I wanted to ask you, though…” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “Can you give me a small loan against my trust fund? A few thousand dollars? I can’t say what it’s for exactly, but I think it’s important and it’s something that means a lot to me.”
He exhales slowly. “Is Mrs. Naylor not paying you enough?”
