"Brooke-Ashley! Oh my goodness, I haven't seen you in months! Howareyou and where have you been hiding?"
Jed held my gaze for a long moment, his brows pinched and his lips falling flat as if apologizing for leaving me with Denise Primiani. The woman was old-school Talbott's Cove, through and through. She grew up here, taught in the town's public schools, gossiped like it was her job, and worked her ass off to look like a page out of an L.L. Bean catalog. The turtleneck and Bermuda shorts paired with duck shoes and the type of raincoat folks around here referred to as a "slicker" was fully on-brand. To be fair, Denise had been the first person to turn up at my father's house after his accident, a wagon of casseroles in tow. She'd talk about you behind your back, but she'd make sure you had enough beef stroganoff to get through a difficult time.
With a shrug meant to forgive his abandonment, I shifted to face her. "Denise, it's great to see you. As for me, I'm doing well. I've been here"—I shot a glance in Jed's direction and got a chuckle in return—"and there."
She touched her fingers to my wrist and gave me that close-mouthed smile that women used on each other to make it clear only one of them was capital-S Struggling. "But, howareyou?"
Since I wasn't plugged into the local rumor mill, I didn't know why I was Struggling today. There was never any shortage of reasons—the unwell father often topped that chart—but there was also the matter of me moving back home. They understood my presence immediately after Dad's car accident, but they wanted to know why I was still here.
My neighbors took it upon themselves to fill in those blanks and that yielded some truly remarkable fiction. I'd lost everything—job, money, will to live, you name it. I'd been disbarred by the SEC, which wasn't a real thing that occurred, but that didn't stop anyone from saying it. I'd been the victim of a terrible crime—rape, attempted murder, kidnapping—and couldn't bear to live in New York any longer.
The ugly, horrible stories always beat out the obvious explanation.
"I'm great. Things are good. It's finally warming up around here ," I replied with as much breezy joy as a tampon commercial. "Every year, it seems like the winter is worse than the one before."
Still pity-smiling, Denise said, "And what about your father? How is he getting around? Is the leg improving at all?"
Jed cleared his throat as he set the salad in front of me. "What else do you need?" he asked, making no attempt to cut the familiarity from his tone. He shook out a cloth napkin and fussed with the silverware, setting each piece in its proper location while Denise watched. "More croutons?"
I laughed at the mountain of croutons rising up from a base of romaine lettuce, chicken, parmesan cheese. I laughed because it was ridiculous, but also because it stopped me from climbing over this bar and into his arms. I wouldn't have the right words, but I could put the pulse in my pussy to good use. "This seems like enough."
Under his breath, he said, "Fix your face." Then, to Denise, "What can I get you, Mrs. Primiani?"
She launched into a detailed story about eliminating sugar for a cruise, but then the cruise being canceled on account of an outbreak of some communicable disease on the ship, and now it was rescheduled for next year, and oh yes, she was still off sugar, so she'd like a dry red wine.
I figured she'd lost track of the unanswered questions in this time, but that wasn't the case. "What were you saying about your father, dear? I haven't seen him in ages, not even puttering around the garden. This time of year, I would've thought he'd be out." Before I could open my mouth to reply, she continued. "I can't tell you how much I miss talking through community issues with him. He'd sit right here, in this very spot"—she slapped her hand on the bar twice while Jed shook his head because no, Dad never sat at the bar—"and discuss the problems. He always knew how to get things done. It's such a shame he never ran for office. If we'd had him on the town council instead of Owen Bartlett with his liberal agenda, we wouldn't be in this mess."
"Which mess is that?" I caught Jed's eye on the other side of the bar and he shrugged, gave a quick shake of his head.
"Too many to count," Denise replied. "The taxes are outrageous while the schools are falling apart and packed to the gills. These children are leaving the cities in droves and overwhelming our classrooms. Do you see any roadwork being done? Not a bit. It's nothing like it used to be. It's not like that at all. They call it progress, but I call it a mistake." She leaned in close, lowered her voice. "And don't get me started on the drug and juvenile delinquency issues. We didn't have those problems in my day." Her eyes as wide as they could stretch without injury, she tipped her head toward Nate. "I hope you're keeping Judge Markham informed about these issues. I'm certain he'd want to know and make his opinion known."
I shoved a crouton in my mouth. "Mmhmm."
"You know what I should do? I should pay him a visit."
I shook my head. "No. No, not right now," I said around the crouton. This conversation needed to end by any means necessary. "Maybe a few months from now. We'll see how he's feeling, all right?"
"Oh, well—"
"Thank you for understanding," I continued. Still gnawing that chunk of crunchy bread. "I'm sure you can imagine the recuperation has been difficult and unpredictable."
"My sister-in-law fractured her hip two years ago and—"
"Please don't let me keep you," I said through a bold, brassy smile. "I know we could chat all night, but I'm sure you're meeting people and I'd hate to make them wait."
She wiggled her fingers at a group of women seated at a round table in the dining room. "How did you know it's my night out with the school girls?" she cooed. "We try to get together once a month, but we're lucky if we manage every other month."
Nodding, I went for another crouton.
"It was wonderful to see you, dear." Denise returned her hand to my wrist and resurrected the sad smile. "I'm so pleased you're getting on all right. Give me a ring if there's anything I can do for you and don't forget to pass my thoughts on to Judge Markham. See if you can't convince him to attend some of the town council meetings. We need him on our side!"
I went on grinning as she slipped off the barstool, but I wanted to gather those rocks in my hands, close my eyes, and throw them in every direction.
* * *
"How do you do it?"I glanced at Jed as we walked toward his house later that night. "How do you, I don't know"—I shook my hands in front of me as if I intended to strangle something—"put up with this town?"
"Narrow it down for me, sweetheart. We could be talking about anything. What am I putting up with?"
