“Hi, Finley. How’s business?” Faith asks.
“Better since you’ve given my card to everyone at the girls’ preschool. I’ve never taken so many pictures of little kids.”
“I don’t know about other parents,” Faith says, “but my girls never sit nicely when I try to take a picture of them. Evie sticks out her tongue and Claire tries to pull Evie’s hair.”
Finley laughs. “I’ve learned kids are better for strangers than for their parents.”
“Which is why I predict you’ll always have a lot of bookings,” Faith assures her.
Once Finley and I both have our orders, we find a table by the window. Sitting down, I say, “It’s sounds like business is booming.”
She plants herself in the chair across from mine. “I’ve been very lucky.”
“Do you have a husband or boyfriend?” I ask. I don’t want to come across as nosy, but I do want to know more about her.
“Neither. I moved to Elk Lake after a break-up.”
“I’m sorry. Were you together for long?”
“Only six months, and don’t be sorry. When it’s not right, it’s not worth feeling bad about.” That’s a concept that’s taken me awhile to implement in my own life, but I’m relieved finally to be getting there.
I take a sip of my hot chocolate before responding, “That’s what I keep telling myself.”
“It was different for you, Allie. You were married.”
“I sure was.” My tone makes it sound like my union with Brett was more of a jail sentence than a marriage. Although in retrospect, I’m starting to see it that way. What kind of man refuses to allow you to keep pickles in the refrigerator becausehedoesn’t like them?
“I’m sorry about what he did to you.” She explains, “I know it must seem strange that I know so much about you when we barely know each other, but I find the best way to make the people I photograph comfortable is to get them to open up and talk about themselves.” With a snort she adds, “Or in your parents’ case, you.”
Cringing, I tell her, “It sounds like they told you everything.”
Her expression turns into one of pity. “They’re hurting for you. They love you.”
“Maybe in my dad’s case,” I tell her. “My mom is only trying to fix me. She wants me to run out and find someone else so I can be just like her.”
“My grandmother used to say the best way to get over one guy was to get under another one.” At my shocked expressions, she explains, “She was a teenager in the nineteen sixties.”
“Hippy?” I ask.
“Oh, yeah. I think her proudest moment was when she and a group of her friends burned their bras at a sit-in for civil rights. I’m not sure what one thing had to do with the other, but Gram used to say there was a lot to protest back then so they tried to get it all in when they could.”
I snort laugh. “I feel like my mother would have run around handing everyone’s bras back to them while lecturing them on the importance of marriage and family.”
Finley takes a bite of her muffin. After swallowing it, she says, “Your mom is happy with her life and that makes her think everyone would benefit from the same existence.”
“You give her a lot of credit.”
“Your mom is a good person.”
“You think that because she’s not always on you to hurry up and get married and have a family.”
Finley’s green eyes open wide. “You don’t think she’s on me, too?”
“You’re kidding?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. Margaret’s rapper name could be Tenacious Mags.
“Your mom wants the people she cares about to be happy. I take it as a compliment.”
“Do you date a lot in Elk Lake?” I ask. “Not that I’m currently looking.”
