Patti Jensen: A blonde in heels just stepped out of a Lexus at Thatcher’s place. Anyone else see that?
Marge Calloway: She had luggage. Designer. That’s not a day visit. Trust me, she booked the suite at the Inn.
Riley Novak: That’s Liz. As in Jamie’s mom. As in the woman who once told me almond milk was “common.”
Marge Calloway: Well. This should be interesting.
Patti Jensen: Roe walked into The Blue Line with an attitude today. His jaw was tight, and he didn’t even flirt with Riley.
“He has a game, Liz,” I tell her.
I’d arrived at The Blue Line to get my mid-morning fix and meet Roe with a coffee before his morning skate. Instead, Liz is here.
I step forward in line, blessedly close to the front.
She shrugs. “But I’m here now, so I thought we could do an art class together or maybe a nature hike.”
I cut her a look. “His whole life is hockey. He can’t blow off a game; he wouldn’t want to.”
“I just thought—”
“Liz. He has his own life. Goals. Things that are important to him. You have to meet him where he is now. He’s not five anymore.”
Liz humphs. “But what about me?”
I say nothing, but the rest of the coffee shop goes deathly quiet, then picks up talking again, almost like they were all listening in. I almost smile, because for once the small-town gossip seems like it’s on my side, doing me a solid favor here.
It’s our turn at the counter and Riley’s look bounces between us.
“I need Monroe’s too. And please remember the oat milk so I don’t have to hear about it,” I tell him, since he knows my orderbut the new kid manning the machine got Roe’s wrong last week. Liz hands him her stylish to-go cup and rattles off a complicated order I can’t follow. Riley raises an eyebrow but just nods, his eyes watching the distance I keep between us.
It’s not like with Roe, where I have to keep myself from being too close.
I grab the two drinks as soon as Riley passes them over, leaving Liz to get her own. She follows me out to the sidewalk.
“I’m not saying you can’t see him or engage him in what you like. I’m just saying that you have to do it around his schedule. Hockey is mid-season. A few more months and he’s down to his speed and agility and specialized training. He has more time then.”
“Months, Thatchy? I’m here now. And Iwantto be more involved.”
I turn on the sidewalk, stepping to the side of the foot traffic.
“Then be more involved. All his activities are shared to your calendar. Let’s sit down and make a plan. That’s all I’m saying.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Always so practical. Don’t you ever just want to live in the moment? Just do what the universe puts in front of you that day instead of scheduling and planning every moment of your existence?”
I blink at her. “I have a twelve-year-old son. How does one do that without a schedule, exactly?”
“Easy, silly,” she giggles. “Quit taking it all so seriously.”
I feel myself bristle a bit at her words. Even without a kid, I was never one for spontaneity, and there have been those who found that to be a character flaw. I can feel the frown that falls onto my face.
I wonder what Roe thinks about my lack of impulsiveness.
I watch Roe make his way down the sidewalk, manifesting as if my thoughts alone conjured him up. The cocky walk he naturally has makes a smile rise on my mouth.
“What’s up with you two?” Liz asks.
“We’re seeing each other,” I say, not able to pull my eyes away from him for more than a few blinks. “It’s new.”
