Page 14 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“No,” Edith said, shaking her head side to side, unable to meet his gaze again, especially since all she could find so far was a quarter and a piece of gum. “No. You were fine. I mean, you weren’t fine. You were choking. Then obviously you were in pain. What I meant is that you had every right to be horrible—”
“Ouch.”
“Not that you were horrible,” Edith rushed on. “I’m saying this all wrong.”
“No,” he said with a self-deprecating laugh, “you’re probably saying it all right.”
Julie interrupted them with a polite cough. “Here’s your coffee and scones, you two.”
PaulHubba-HubbaNewman paid while Edith took her coffee and scone. “Thank you.” She shifted back and forth on her feet. What was she supposed to do now? Join him? He didn’t ask her to join him. He only offered to buy. She hesitated as he doctored up his coffee with cream and sugar sitting on a turquoise baker’s rack near the front door.
Edith glanced at Julie, who had her elbows propped on the counter, watching the two of them like they had the lead roles in the community play. Maybe Edith should go sit down.
Julie waggled her eyebrows at Edith while Mr. Hubba-Hubba’s back was still turned.
Or maybe she should just leave.
Part of the reason Edith never planned to remarry barreled down on her like a freight train. The whole idea of starting over at square one with a man—having todatea man—terrified her. But this wasn’t a date. She had no reason to freak out. No reason to sweat.
So why was she sweating?
Scattered tables—some wooden and round, others concrete and square—filled the room attached to the front bakery area. Edith crossed the creaky wooden floorboards. With a shaky breath, she chose a round table near the back. A round table for two. Why had she chosen a round table for two? Was it too late to choose another table? For say, eight or twenty?
The slow, uneven gait of Paul Newman’s twin drew closer. She held her breath.
He limped past her table.
Edith exhaled, a mixture of relief and disappointment. He lowered himself into a chair at the next table, facing her, and gave her a small smile. Her lungs refilled with a mixture of anxiety and delight.
“This scone is so good.” Edith realized she hadn’t taken a bite yet and shoved a chunk into her mouth. “Thanks again,” she mumbled around a mouthful.
“You’re welcome.” He held up his coffee in a sort of salute.
Edith swallowed and saluted back with her coffee. They both sipped in silence. Edith wished she had a newspaper or her phone or anything right now that would keep her eyes from drifting back to the man across from her. She wishedeven more he had something to keep his eyes from drifting toward her.
She scanned the walls. A few tin signs with quotes about coffee. A couple of framed newspaper articles, one headline saying something about a town fire. A mirror. Windows. She sighed. Nobody else had entered the coffee shop yet. It was still early in the morning. Edith racked her mind for something to say. Couldn’t this place have some music, at least? A coffee grinder? What was Julie doing back there?
When he shifted in his chair and made the slightest frown, she leapt on it. “Do you need something to prop your leg on? It’s your knee, right? It might feel better elevated. I can grab another chair for you.”
He held a hand up to stop her. “I’m fine. Despite every impression I’ve given you, I promise I’m actually a healthy, able-bodied man.”
“Oh, believe me, I noticed.” Edith inhaled a sharp breath, realizing she’d spoken out loud. “The healthy part,” she quickly added. “Not that your body isn’t able. It looks extremely able. I just meant you look good. Yourhealthlooks good. Your cholesterol levels are probably really good.” She blew on her coffee. “That’s all I meant.”
His gorgeous blue eyes stared at her as if she were a piece of abstract art he couldn’t quite figure out, before a slow grin spread across his entire face. “Who are you?”
“Who am I?” Edith asked.
“Yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Where did you come from?”
“Pittsburgh.”
“Okay. So what brought you here? And don’t say a plane.”
Edith blew her bangs from her eyes. “That’s kind of a long story.”
He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table with the coffee mug cradled between his hands. “I’m in no hurry.”
What was it about this guy? The eyes, obviously. Edith tried reining in her silly infatuation. But goodness.Those eyes.She marveled that for the second time in less than twenty-four hours she was ready to pour out her life story to a complete stranger. Although Kat’s uncle Henry was hardly a complete stranger. They’d shared the same tub of ice cream after all.
