“Found them,” Cami says, standing. “Joe, I swear you need to get glasses. They were right on top.” She looks toward me. “Sorry about that. Would you like some marshmallows?”
“Um…sure.” I hand her back the cup, and she tops it with a few.
My eyes scan the four people in front of us.
Chip. Lolly. Joe. Cami.
They all seemed unfazed by seeing us. It’s a strange feeling knowing who they are and them not knowing who we are. It doesn’t make sense, but nonetheless my heart expands at the thought that we might actually have a chance to have them back in our life. That they actually exist.
“Can we get you something else?” Lolly asks, tilting her head to the side.
“Oh…um, no. It’s all delicious.”
“Should we keep shopping?” Everett asks, nodding away from where they stand.
“Yeah. Let’s.”
He grabs another piece of candy, and we continue to snake through the aisles, leaving the four of them behind.
“Do you think it’s really them,” I whisper when we are out of their earshot.
He shrugs. “It looks like them, and they all have the same names.”
“But how are they all here?” I keep my voice hushed as we step behind a shelf. Mac lays down at my feet with a loud thump. My heart aches for the friends I once knew, and my brain swirls, trying to come up with a way to befriend them that’s not completely creepy and weird.
“I don’t know. You did say you thought you saw?—”
“You don’t think?”
“You two good over here?” Ginger says, popping around the corner and causing Mac and me to jump. “Can I help you find something?”
“Actually, we’re out looking for our nieces’ Christmas gifts,” Everett says.
No, we aren’t. We finished shopping for them last week.
“Oh yes, but you’re in the wrong section.” She begins to walk back to the front of the store, and I cut my eyes at Everett, who shrugs as we follow after her.
What is he up to?
“How old are they?” she asks when we get to the children’s section.
“Seven and five,” he says.
“Anything in this section should do the trick,” she says. “And then on that shelf over there”—she points—“are some easier chapter books the seven-year-old may enjoy.”
The bell above the door chimes, and she moves away to greet the incoming customers.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I figured we should probably support her store, and maybe if we’re loyal customers we’ll get to see everyone more often.” He shrugs.
“And then what?”
“Not sure.”
“Excuse me,” a voice says behind us, causing us to flip around. Standing before us is Aster.
“Hi,” I say, not fully believing who is standing a couple feet from me.
