Megs caught a glimpse of the words ‘Grade Submission’ on his screen as she set the laptop back on the table in front of him.Professor?If she’d had a teacher like him, maybe she would have stayed enrolled.
Gideon lookedup from his laptop every so often, stealing glances at the curly-haired employee as she pushed the mop over the wood floors. She was charming. Funny. Though she was probably like that with everyone who walked through the door. The sign of a good barista and insurance for tips.
He finished the email he'd been crafting for his Intro to Audio class and pressed send. The first assignment he’d given was due over the weekend, and while he didn't make a habit of coddling his students, he liked to ease them into things at the beginning of the semester.
The skin between his fingers was still a bit sticky as he folded up his laptop and tucked it inside his messenger bag.The barista picked up the mop and headed back behind the counter, which meant it was time for him to go. He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder and moved to pick up his used napkin and coffee cup.
"I can get that." The woman stopped and set the mop up against the wall, then walked over and tucked her auburn curls behind her ears. She was adorable in her light-wash jeans, cream apron, and loose floral t-shirt. Against the brick walls and hanging plants, she looked like she could be a permanent design fixture.
"Thanks again." He handed the cup to her but kept the dirty napkin wadded in his fist. He'd throw his own trash in the bin on his way out the door. "And good luck with whatever life throws at you next."
"Thanks," she replied, a smile playing on her lips.She had great lips."You too."
He opened his mouth to ask her name, but she'd already turned to take his coffee cup to the sink. Her curls bounced against her shoulders, and Gideon watched her retreating figure as long as he could before he worried she'd glance back and catch him gawking.
He should say something.Ask for her number?The idea made his hands tingle. Any past relationship he’d been in had happened naturally, and he didn’t have practice with being confident and bold.
He walked toward the trash center and tossed his napkin in the slot marked 'compost.' He'd be back in Sugar Creek in two weeks to help with another class at the Champlain satellite campus. Maybe he could stop in at Green Mountain then and work on an action plan.
"Have a great evening," the woman called out behind him. His throat was thick as he turned and waved. He only caught the coffee shop hours plastered to the glass in vinyl on the door as it closed behind him.
Two-thirty. They closed at two-thirty on Wednesdays.
Megs walkedto her car over an hour late without an ounce of regret. Her feet ached, and she needed a neck massage something fierce, but she felt lighter than she had all week.Why hadn't she asked for his number?Or at least his name. She'd thought about it more than once, but then the timing hadn't been quite right.
Ugh.Timing.Hadn’t that always been her problem? People like Haley didn’t wait for good timing, they spoke up and asked for what they wanted. She sighed. That was the problem, wasn’t it? Megs was never sure what she wanted. The one time she’d felt that burning in her gut and tried to fight for a dream, it had landed her right back here. Twenty-five. Living in her childhood bedroom.
Her agent had texted right as she was locking up. She had an audition for a dog food spot, and it paid well. If she recorded her self-tape video right when she got home, the lighting would still be good. Auditions had been slow all summer, so this was a good sign. Maybe things were picking up before the holidays?
Megs slid into the driver's seat of her 2008 Honda Civic, then pulled away from the curb. She blew out a breath and mentally calculated what she’d have in her savings account come Friday’s paycheck. Should be just enough to finally pay back the loan her mom had helped her get after high school to move to Chicago.Eleven months.That was all the time it had taken to send her packing for home.
Now, after dropping out of Champlain, it was community theater, Green Mountain Grinds, and commercial acting work until she could figure out what to do next.Until she knewwhat she wanted.That was a joke. She knew what she wanted, she just couldn’t seem to get it.
Megs pulled into the driveway and walked through the front door. She looked up, surprised to see her mom sitting on the couch with a laptop on the coffee table. Sylvia DeBosse was an intimidating woman with her scrutinizing stare and over-the-top dramatic energy. Her attention to detail made her an excellent director . . . and a bulldozer of a mother when she wasn’t distracted.
"You're home early." Megs slipped off her sneakers.
"Where have you been? I thought you closed at two-thirty?" Her mother looked more frazzled than usual, especially since she wasn’t in the middle of a musical run. September meant auditions for community theater—the honeymoon stage of any show—and this autumn, her mother was producing Into the Woods. Megs was surprised she hadn’t been nudging her to throw her hat in the ring for the baker’s wife.
"I had to stay late." Megs unclipped her leather waist bag and set it on the end table, then slumped into the loveseat across from her mother. She turned the computer screen to face her, and Megs’ eyes lit up.
"Bobbi? I didn't know you were video chatting today!"
Her sister laughed. "Yeah, thanks to you, I’ve had to shoot the breeze with Mom for at least a half hour."
A man with dark hair dipped into view of the camera. "Hey, Megs."
Megs waved. "Hey, Ben." He kissed Bobbi's cheek and disappeared from the frame. Well, they seemed happy. A twinge of envy made her pucker. She would never want Bobbi to be unhappy and was thrilled things had worked out between her and Ben last Christmas. That hole in her chest was entirely a ‘her’ problem.
Megs looked between Bobbi and her mom. "So? To what do we owe this pleasure? Is everything okay?"
Bobbi shrugged. “Things are fine here. Busy. Mom’s the one who said she needed to talk.”
Sylvia pulled the laptop back to face her and motioned for Megs to cross the room and sit next to her on the couch. "I had something to tell you girls, so I called Bobbi, but then you didn't get home on time."
Megs frowned and slipped past the coffee table to sit down in front of the screen. Her mom wasn't one to make a big deal out of things. She was intense, but she didn't create drama out of nothing and wasn’t one to keep information under wraps. If she'd waited to share until both girls were present, it had to be something big.
"Mom, are you sick?" Megs whispered, and Sylvia slapped her leg.
