The bell over the door chimes and on an October breeze, Aria enters, holding the door for Richard. She wears a shin-length, flower-patterned dress with leggings underneath, socks pulled up over the leggings, and boots on her feet. Eclectic, but pretty. Aria’s always been pretty. I remember thinking that before we were even old enough to know what people do when they think someone’s pretty. Her hunter green beanie brings out the green in her eyes, and I’m not sure if I can blame my staring on the concussion she gave me.
Skye shoots me a way-too-obvious look. “Well, if it isn’t Aria Johnson. What are you doing back in town?”
Aria elbows Richard. “This guy needed some mushroom doctor help.”
“That’s right!” Skye says. “I saw online that you got your PhD. Congrats. And your page came up on my feed. I love all your mushroom videos!”
“Thanks,” Aria says, a little pink tinging her freckled cheeks.
What videos? Aria has some online presence I know nothing about? I keep a page going about fire safety, and Mindy, the town admin, forces me to make thirst traps to sell the fire department calendars. My sluggish brain is still cogitating all that when, apparently, I speak. “Let me get your drink. To thank you for helping me the other day.”
All heads snap to me, probably because I delivered that at top volume. Really wish I could blame that on the concussion.
“I . . .” Ari starts. “I was the one who injured you. I should get yours.”
I swallow hard. Yes, she hurt me the other day, but I’d done much worse when we were in high school. Based on her behavior when she fell on me, she’s not over that hurt, no matter how many years have passed. I’ve got a hole to dig out of.
Aria grimaces. “I’ve gotta take off and see my granny anyway. Just dropping this guy off for his playdate.” She pats Richard on the back. “I’ll be back around 11:30 so we can have lunch and hike?”
“Sounds good, hon,” Richard says.
“Unless you want to come with me,” Ari goes on. “Granny does love you.”
Richard holds up a hand. “I am all set there, thanks.”
“Here,” Skye says, stepping to the drip coffees and filling a cup. “How do you take your coffee? Take some for the road.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—” Ari starts.
“A welcome back to town present,” Skye insists, pushing the cup into her hand. “Bro, go get her one of those danishes. Mindy just pulled them out of the oven.”
“I don’t work here,” I object, but get off my stool and head for the back anyway.
“Oh! And, you should come over tonight. It’s been ages since we hung out. Iris comes over for wine andReal Housewives.” Skye brandishes her phone from her back pocket and hands it to Ari. “Here, put your number in.”
“Oh, uh, okay,” Ari says with a reluctant smile. “Should I . . . bring anything?”
Their voices fade as I pop into the kitchen, grab a piece of wax paper, and pull a pastry off the pan, grimacing an apology to Mindy.
I make it back to Skye’s side, who babbles about the weird snack foods she and Iris like. I thrust the pastry toward Aria. She regards it like I’m offering her a hissing cockroach.
“Really,” Ari backs toward the door. “I’ve got to get going.”
The bell tinkles again and Aria bumps into Iris, Skye’s best friend, the mayor, and our local florist.
Small towns. We wear all the hats.
Iris carries a vase of flowers, which she brings to Skye’s shop every morning. A little water sloshes out of the vase and onto the floor.
Excuses fly out of Aria’s mouth, and she looks mortified. I wince as I rush to the counter to get a bar towel and walk to the door to sop up the mess.
It’s chaotic in here, and if I know anything about Aria, she wants to shrivel up and die right now.
“Oh, I’ve got it—” Ari starts.
“Aria, is that you? You’re back in town!” Iris cries.
“Yeah! She’s going to come over forHousewivesnight!” Skye adds.
