Page 97 of Every Thought Taken

Yes from me for August and Sharon.

Anderson

All good

Lessa is undoubtedly squealing with delight. I picture her parked in the chair behind her desk at the coffee shop, fingers flying over the screen as August enters her office to ask if everything is alright. Her screech of excitement probably scaring the patrons as they are sipping drinks or devouring tasty morsels.

SOS. Someone, please save us.

Lessa

I’ll text everyone tomorrow with an update. xo

The bell over the door jingles. I lock my phone and shove it in my pocket as I greet three unfamiliar faces. “Good afternoon. Welcome. Have you shopped Always Classic before?” My phone buzzes in my pocket, but I ignore it.

A curvy woman with beautiful brown skin and curls I would kill for meets my stare and smiles. “This is our first time.” She glances to the women at her side. “We’re in town for the National Lavendula League annual convention. Thought we’d browse on one of our free days.”

In the past year, our small town has grown in popularity. The centennial festival last October attracted people within a hundred-mile radius. Or so I’ve been told. But it was Braydon’s story in Washington’s Hidden Gems magazine that really brought in so many new faces. Most stay for a long weekend or weeklong summer vacation.

Tourism this year has been phenomenal. The small bell on my door has jingled more this season than any previous year. And thanks to the influx of traffic and sales, I’ve been able to add more inventory I love.

“Nice to have you all here.” A smile stretches my cheeks. “Are you staying at the B&B?”

An older, taller, stockier woman with tan skin and black hair hikes a purse strap up her shoulder. “We are. The place is massive for a bed-and-breakfast.”

I clasp my hands at my waist, twisting the ring on my finger. “It’s grown over the years. When I was little, it was half the size. My parents say it started off as a four-bedroom home before their time.” Freeing my hands, I wave an arm around the store. “I won’t bore you with the town’s history. Have a look around and let me know if you have questions or need assistance.”

After a smile and “thank you,” the women weave through the tables and racks, browsing leisurely.

I wade toward the rear of the store and step behind the checkout counter. I pull out my phone and unlock it, tapping on a new text from Anderson.

Anderson

Dinner tonight?

After a quick glance up, I type out a reply.

Helena

Yes. My place? Dinner and a movie?

I bite the inside corner of my lip as my eyes dart from the screen to the customers. Up and down, over and over, I get a little dizzy.

Last night, I had to pass on dinner with Anderson. A birthday celebration was in order with my parents. Dinner at J’s Sushi, followed by ice cream at All Scooped Up. With a full belly of tempura, sushi, udon, and ice cream, I waddled up the stairs to my apartment later than most weeknights.

After a quick shower, I’d slipped on pajamas, crawled under the covers, and passed out. When I woke this morning, I had a text notification from Anderson. I’d worried my bottom lip for minutes before opening it. We were rekindling our relationship—slowly, steadily—and I didn’t want to upset him.

Last night was our first night apart in ten days. To be honest, I didn’t know how he’d take it. My worry had been pointless. His text this morning read,I missed you.Those three words kept a smile on my face today.

Anderson

Cook or takeout?

I survey the store. Clothes draped over their arms, the ladies moved to the opposite side of the store, riffling through racks on the wall. My window to chat was shortening.

Helena

Cook. Something we can make together.

---