She leaned in, voice lowered but playful. “That’s not a bad thing. I’m just saying. You’re new, and you smell like you don’t quite belong yet, but you’re trying really hard to pretend you do. I respect that.” She offered her hand. “Maddie.”
I took it, and her grip was strong, warm, a little reckless. “Aspen. I…uh…just opened the bakery on Main.”
She snapped her fingers. “I knew it! I had a cookie from there at lunch. Best cookie I’ve eaten since I can’t remember when.” She paused, tilting her head. “Hear you’re from Georgia. Is that right, or did Pearl get her wires crossed?”
“It’s true,” I said, the words heavier than I meant them. “I came here to start over. Or maybe just to start.”
Maddie looked at me for a long time, like she could see the cracks under the surface. Then she smiled again, all mischief and understanding. “Well, whatever you’re doing, it’s working. You got half the ladies at the salon talking about you. And the men, too. Well, you got the menlookin’ anyways.”
I laughed, surprised by the sound. It was the first real laugh I’d managed since leaving Verdant Hollow. Maddie noticed and looked pleased with herself.
“So, what doyoudo?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.
She shrugged. “Work at my brother Bronc’s motorcycle shop; sometimes I help my Ma here. I basically do what I want.” She leaned in closer, conspiratorial. “I’m really trying to find Mr. Right, have a few pups, you know, live the life.”
I know my eyes had to be as big as saucers. I’d never met anyone so honest.
“Wow. You getting close to finding him?”
“Not yet. But you never know. He could come walking through my door when I least expect it.” She beamed.
I immediately thought of Big Papa, then smiled and nodded.
Before I knew it, an hour had passed. Pearl came by with a to-go box and the check. She squeezed my shoulder. “You call if you need anything. Anything at all.”
I promised I would, and she nodded, satisfied.
As Maddie slid out of the booth, she caught my gaze and grinned. “I’m coming by tomorrow morning for a cinnamon roll. Don’t you dare sell out before I get there.”
“Deal,” I said, feeling lighter than I had in months.
We said our goodbyes at the door, Maddie disappearing into the night with a wave. I lingered a moment, watching theempty street, the way the yellow paint of my bakery caught the moonlight from across the square.
As I was about to walk out, Pearl called after me, “Aspen! Hold up!”
I turned, surprised.
She hustled over, her steps quick for someone her age. She stopped just short of hugging me again, and her eyes shone with a kindness I wanted to believe in.
“I nearly forgot. I need a chocolate cake. For the diner. By the slice. You think you can swing that by tomorrow afternoon?”
I nodded, swallowing the sudden lump in my throat. “Yes, ma’am.”
She smiled, satisfied. “Knew you could. And Aspen? Don’t be afraid to rest. You’re safe here. Understand?”
It was such a simple thing, but the words nearly undid me.
“Yes, ma’am,” I whispered.
She watched me a moment longer, then turned back to the diner.
I started the walk home, the winter air biting at my cheeks and my heart aching in a way I couldn’t quite explain. I was still haunted, still uncertain. But for the first time since I’d lost Mama, I felt the edge of hope, sharp and bright as the stars overhead.
I toed off my boots, peeled out of my coat, and put my takeout box in the small fridge. For a second, I just stood there, staring at my little living space. The tiny couch that I’d traded for the pitiful thing that was there when I’d first arrived sat in the center of the room. I’d added cute pillows and a soft throw. The kitchenette was on the left and the bedroom to the right. The space was perfectly functional. I’d add plants soon in the hopes it would eventually feel like home.
For now, all I wanted was to scrub the day off my skin, so I grabbed a towel and headed straight for the shower. The watercame out hotter than I meant to set it, stinging my scalp and shoulders, but I let it burn. Sometimes the only way to feel clean is to scorch the nerves right off. I closed my eyes and braced my hands against the tile, letting the steam fill my lungs until the mirror was a blank fog.
Tiredness clung to me, bone-deep, the kind that seeps into your marrow and makes it impossible to think in straight lines. I lingered until the water ran cold, then wrung out my hair and stepped out and wrapped myself in the towel. I pulled on some warm pajamas and then brushed and started the arduous task of drying my waist-length hair. Thankfully, I only had to do this part once a week.
