The bell jingled, but she didn’t turn around, throwing her apron in the basket and rearranging a few containers that had been knocked off the pile.
“Hello, Gilbert. Looks like you have a friend with you today.”
“Hi, Sunny. This is Darla Zoubak. She’s from DC and is looking to buy a weekend place here. I told her she could find the best muffins in town right here.”
Summer continued to face the shelf, also realizing that the entire stack of containers was completely crooked and needed to be entirely restacked. She didn’t want to turn around and face Gilbert. Even though he was right there. It was one thing to know in her headthat he was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing, it was another thing to be able to smile and pretend to be okay with it. She wasn’t a very good actress.
“Well, thank you very much. Would you like to purchase a muffin so you can see that for yourself?” Sunny asked, and Summer could only imagine that Sunny was looking directly at Darla.
“Oh,” Darla said, sounding flirtatious, “I think Gilbert was going to buy me one. He’s been so charming and so knowledgeable about this sweet little town. He’s just got my heart all aflutter with all of the amazing things that go on here.”
Summer rolled her eyes as she stacked one more box on top of the other. Darla sounded like a simpleton. Maybe she was sounding that way on purpose, or maybe that was the way she talked when she was in a small town, condescending to the intelligence level she assigned to people who lived here.
That was not nice. She needed to be kind. God wanted her to be kind to everyone and not have these nasty thoughts in her head.
She took a breath and put another box up, stacking it as evenly and carefully as she could as Gilbert placed an order for two muffins.
Sunny moved along behind the counter, fulfilling their order, getting the coffees that he had requested as well, and she felt more than saw Gilbert shift.
“Summer?” he asked, and his voice sounded much closer. It seemed like he had moved down the counter and was leaning over directly behind where she knelt, putting the boxes away.
Now what was she going to do? She wasn’t expecting him to call her out. She could hardly act like she didn’t know he was there, but obviously she was being rude by ignoring him.
She turned but didn’t straighten, looking up at him.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey. I just wanted to say hi. I…miss you.”
“Gilbert, is this the girl you were talking about?” Darla came over and latched her arm around Gilbert’s.
Summer’s eyes dropped to her hand on his arm before she looked back up into Gilbert’s face, which seemed to be pinched.
“The one who gave your children horseback riding lessons and worked in the bakery or something?”
So was he calling them lessons rather than therapy? Playing down the fact that she did have a degree, even though it might not be as spectacular as whatever Darla had. And she had just gone to a state school, nothing Ivy League or prestigious. Was Gilbert ashamed of her?
“Yes. She’s the one that did the therapy with my children when my wife died. I credit her for their ability to bounce back so quickly and process everything in a healthy way.”
“Oh, children are so resilient,” Darla said, waving her hand.
“Sometimes they can be,” Gilbert said, looking at Summer with his eyes narrowed as though he knew that there was obviously something wrong and was trying to figure out what it was.
Was he really that clueless?
She didn’t think he probably was, but it didn’t matter. Anyone who had a brain could figure out what her problem was and why, but anyone who called themselves a Christian should also not be acting the way she was.
“Darla, it’s so nice to meet you,” she said, rising and holding out her hand so she could shake Darla’s.
Darla looked at it almost the way someone might look at a rat that all of a sudden appeared on the counter. But then, she slipped her long white fingers into Summer’s work-roughened hand and shook it gingerly.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Darla said. “Gilbert didn’t tell me that you were so short.”
Summer thought about the four-inch heels that Darla wore. Probably the only set of four-inch heels in town, but Summer didn’t say anything. Heels did not necessarily make a person bad. It was the attitude and the condescending manner that ruffledher feathers.
“I guess there’s less of me to sit on the horse. I believe it’s universal that horses typically like a light rider.”
That wasn’t the best comeback she’d ever had, but at least she was being kind.
