Page 6 of Once Upon A Small Town Secret
She chuckles, looking toward the river again.
“That phone call you just had…” she starts.
Damn. I thought I hid it well.
Can never get anything by Gwen Richards.
“Was it about that interview from the other day?”
I hesitate, my fingers curling around the armrest. Part of me wants to blurt it all out—the deal, the signing, the keys that will soon be mine. But the other part wants to hold it close for just a few more hours, let it be mine alone until it’s official.
“Sort of,” I say finally, keeping my tone light. Not a lie. Not exactly the truth, either.
Her brows lift in curiosity, but she doesn’t press. That’s one of the things I love about her—she knows when to ask and when to wait.
Instead, she smiles and takes another sip of tea. “Well, whatever it was, you’re glowing. I haven’t seen that look on your facesince…” She trails off, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “Probably since you got your acceptance letter from Vanderbilt.”
I laugh, though my heart is still thumping with all the things I’m not saying. “Guess it’s been a good day.”
Her smile lingers, warm and knowing. “I like good days. Let’s have more of them.”
“Agreed,” I say.
“It’s good having you home, Paige. The house feels… fuller,” she says wistfully.
I smile, tracing my fingertip along the arm of the wicker chair. “It’s good to be home.”
She glances at me over the rim of her glass. “I know you’ve been busy the last few years, but I’ve missed this. Missed you.”
A little guilt tugs at me, the words warming me and stinging all at once.
“I know,” I admit, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I should’ve come home more. I don’t even have a good excuse… just got caught up in school, work, life.”
She waves a hand, like she’s brushing the words right out of the air. “What matters is you’re here now.” Her eyes soften as she looks at me, the sunlight turning them almost golden. “And we’ve got all the time in the world to make up for it.”
“We sure do.” I stretch my legs out. “You’re stuck with me for a while.”
Mom smiles. “Good. I like the sound of that.”
I nod, keeping my smile glued to my face even as my mind skips ahead to later today—papers to sign, keys in hand, the start of something huge. I almost blurt it out right then, but the words stick in my throat. Not yet. I want to tell them when it’s official.
For now, I just sit back, let the breeze carry the scent of the river, and soak in the feeling of being home.
I wander down the sidewalk, the late afternoon sun warming my shoulders and making the whole street look like something out of a postcard. My steps slow as I pass the storefront that, in just a little while, will be mine.
Sweet Confessions. I can already see the name painted on the glass, the display full of cupcakes, cookies, and pastries that will make people stop in their tracks.
We’re not meeting there, though. Kelly said we’d meet next door, at The Wandering Pint. Apparently, the guy who owns the pub owns the entire building.
I pause in front of the big window, looking in at the empty space that will soon smell like sugar and butter instead of dust. My reflection stares back at me, and I smooth my hands down the front of my outfit.
I didn’t want to go full business-formal—it’s not that kind of meeting—but I didn’t want to look like I just rolled out of bed either. Nice slacks, a business-casual top, and my long, thick hair pulled back so it stays out of my face.
I take a slow breath, my pulse jumping with a mix of nerves and excitement. This is it.
I step away from the window and make my way toward the pub entrance. The door is propped open, letting out a warm mix of scents—grilled burgers, fried something that smells amazing, and the faint bite of hops. The sound of low conversation wanders out from inside, mingled with clinking glasses and the muted thump of music.
The Wandering Pint feels bigger than it looks from the street, light streaming in through tall front windows and glancing off the polished oak bar. The walls are lined with deep green booths, and neat little tables fill the rest of the space in a way that feels comfortable yet spacious. A few people glance up as I walk in, but no one lingers long enough to make me self-conscious.
