Food ‘N’ Friends was situated at the end of a long line of rowhouse-style businesses that made up the quaint and charming Main Street in town. A recipient of many real estate and journalistic awards for its historical and brightly painted buildings, Silver Plum had town pride in spades.
Zane mostly bought the same thing each week. But he ate a lot of food—a proportionately high percent of that was protein—and it took a while to gather.
The contents of his cart were a metaphor for Zane himself. He was a meat-and-potatoes man who wanted a meat-and-potatoes life. Firefighting, saving lives, and then coming home to his wife, who would have also just gotten home from doing something she was passionate about. And eventually, coming home to their kids.
He wanted to be able to camp, hike, and fish with his wife and kids too. He wanted to explore the world with them and find his way back home with them. He wanted to hold pancake breakfasts to earnmoney for the troops on the Fourth of July, and he wanted to go up in the mountains to find and cut a little Christmas tree every year. He wanted to build a life with one woman and grow in love for her—and only her—year after year.
For the longest time, he’d pictured Mabel as that woman. Now, he needed to stop doing that. There needed to be someone else in that dream instead. Not only were he and Mabel in a holding pattern of near silence between them, but she was dating someone else now.
Zane tried to distract himself away from the pain. He found himself looking at an end stand at the grocery store. Fran McGregor, the owner of the only grocery store in town, sometimes brought in little knickknacks, and these were translucent glass ovals with layers of brightly colored sand in them.
Of course, his mind would go to Mabel when they were fourteen and having a sand fight. He’d just told himself to stop thinking of her, and then his very next thought was of her? Man, he was pathetic.
Maybe it was like cleaning out a gaping wound to prep it for stitches. Maybe if he allowed himself to think these things instead of fighting them all the time, he could reach the point where he could rid himself of them all and stitch himself up, all neat and tidy, until he healed from her completely. It was worth a shot.
Memories of throwing sand on each other at the beginning of freshman year quickly moved to memories of her kissing him, without warning, in the school library. His screwed-up immaturity freaked out a little, which she misread as him not liking it. Which caused them both to clam up.
Then when her mom got sick and died a short while later, everything changed. At that point, he couldn’t walk up to her and be like, “You know that time you kissed me? Well, it wasn’t terrible; it was actually amazing, and I like you too.”
No. Things changed, and it was too late. For the past way too many years, he’d pined for her and watched her move on, only to be sure the next moment that she still felt something for him. Back and forth they’d gone, never talking about the past.
Zane grabbed one of the kitschy sand things and stuck it in his cart. He didn’t know what he would do with it, but he liked supporting Fran. Besides, the feeling in his chest was that Mabel was like sand blowing out between his fingers in the wind. Forever impossible to grasp. To claim.
As he rounded the aisle nearest the cash register, Fran grunted out a smoker’s laugh and slid off her stool to greet him. She seemed half his size.
“Mr. Zane, you’re buying one of my sand dealios? You are a gem. When are you going to run off and get married like all your besties are doing?”
“Not quite all of his besties are getting married.”
It was Mabel, pushing the cart while her father put items inside. Her hair was piled high on her head, and pieces of it pulled away from the elastic in little waves. It was mesmerizing.
So we’re besties again?
“Mabel!” Fran crowed, coming out from behind the register to hug her. “You are right. You’re still left too.”
Mabel’s eyes rolled, but she offered a smile. “You’re one to talk. You’re not married either.”
“I think I’m allergic to marriage, to be honest.” She laughed and straightened her glasses up higher on her nose. “Tried it a couple times, and no, thank you! But that doesn’t mean I think no one else should get married. I’ve just placed some special orders to have on hand for the weekend of Hannah and August’s wedding. I’m even hiring a couple of window washers to spiff up this old store. It’s going to be one ofthe biggest events to ever take place here in Silver Plum, you guys. My store’s gonna be inundated.”
“You’ll get a chance to meet some of those A-listers on the covers of your magazines,” Zane said, hoping the conversation would ease the tension with Mabel for the moment.
Fran nodded. “I’ve been asking August’s mom, Victoria, who’s been invited, but she won’t breathe a word of it to me. Apparently, when you’re a famous former actress, the guest list is confidential.” She batted a hand in protest.
“I can see how that would be important to a lot of the guests,” Mabel said. She leaned forward so her forearms rested on the cart handle. “I hope you’ve got someone to cashier during the wedding so you can attend.”
“Oh, hon, don’t worry about me. I wouldn’t miss this wedding for the world. Our little Auggie and Hannie, finally getting married after such a long engagement! And I heard something about our Ruby being close to getting a ring from her cowboy.” Tears pooled behind Fran’s glasses. “I remember when you kids came into the bakery for a field trip in the first grade!”
The store phone rang, and with a, “Be right back!” she hurried away to answer it, leaving Mabel and Zane standing there in an awkward fog. Mabel fiddled with a chain around her neck then turned to look over her shoulder. Was she as embarrassed as he was?
Mabel’s father inched closer to them. He glanced from his phone to the shelves, as if trying to see if he was getting the right ingredient. Mabel had told Zane once that after her mom died, he didn’t pick up on cooking, and Mabel had become the family cook for him and her two younger brothers. Even then, Zane knew that was a big burden for a young teen to take on.
“Hi, Bryce,” Zane offered. He felt more comfortable trying to strike up a conversation with him at that moment than Mabel, which was kind of sad.
Mabel’s father paused and peered up at him. “Hey, Zane.” He looked back at his phone, reading something on it while his lips moved. His shoulders were hunched, and his hair looked grayer than the last time Zane had seen him. He seemed to have become more withdrawn since his wife died all those years ago.
“I told my dad I needed some groceries, and he insisted on coming so I don’t make any bad purchases.” Mabel laughed, but there was hesitation in her eyes.
“Someone’s got to do it,” her father said.
