“Lolly and Chip,” she clarifies, tipping her chin in the direction of them. “Did she not tell you what happened?”
We both shake our heads.
“Well, according to Ruth, Chip asked Lolly out when she first moved here. She turned him down and then opened that cute little candy shop, and now they pretend like they hate each other, but Iknow better. I think they secretly like one another and are just playing hard to get.”
“Maybe,” I say.
“Sometimes people just need to take the time to talk to each other to realize they have more in common than they assume.” She looks back and forth between me and Everett.
“I couldn’t agree more,” he says, locking his stare on me. I swallow hard and my stomach swoops.
Ginger begins to laugh. “They’re going to have to spend lots of time together thanks to Stella!”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“The decoration committee, of course.”
“Didn’t they volunteer to do that?”
“Oh, goodness no. They were voluntold and weren’t very happy about it, but they’ll just have to work through it.” She smiles and her eyes gleam. “Anywho, let me know if you need help finding something.”
We both nod and then walk toward the section of the store with books we hope might have clues for us to get home.
“Seems like people with pink hairdolike to play matchmaker,” Everett whispers.
I shake my head and roll my eyes.
“You’re so much better than me with all of these strangers. It’s taking all of my energy to smile and pretend like I know them. How do you do it?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had a lot of practice from being in the spotlight the way I’ve been, but that doesn’t mean it’s not weighing on me too. You found me in a pinball bar, trying to escape my inevitable retirement, remember?”
I offer him a half-smile.
“Where do you think we should start?” he asks, running his fingers along the spines of some of the books.
“I don’t know. I just keep thinking about what Stella said, so maybe books on magic or books about the town.”
“Good idea,” he says, beginning to peruse the shelves. We maze up and down each aisle looking for anything remotely resembling a book on Sugarplum Park or magic, but there’s nothing.
“Do you like to read?” he asks, bending down to search a lower shelf.
“I do, but I don’t have a lot of timefor it with dance.”
“I get that. Hockey doesn’t leave a lot of extra time for hobbies either.”
He stands, and we continue down the aisle, turning the corner to the next one.
“I have so many books in my apartment, but I think the last time I sat down and enjoyed one must have been at least a year ago.”
“So, why buy books if you don’t read them?”
“Well, I plan on reading them one day,” I explain. “I’m also just a sucker for a pretty cover or special edition, so I own a lot of duplicates of my favorites. Do you read?”
“Not really.”
“Do you have any hobbies?”
“I travel a little during the off season, but when I’m home I don’t do much. Most nights it’s either Fritz’s or a puzzle at home.”
