Luckily, I get paid next week, and my brother mailed me his credit card. That’s when I realized there was a post office on the other side of town and the truck delivers mail once a week. It’sslower than molasses, and I’m from the South, so by the time the card gets here, I’ll have some kind of money.
Which I’ll have to get cashed at the local bank, which means I have to open an account.
For having a time limit, I sure am growing roots in a place I don’t plan on remaining in. The whole situation is a hot mess. Which is why today, Saturday, Lark and I are heading out for brunch before Arlo picks me up for our non-date hike.
There aren’t many restaurant options, so we end up back at Dee-Dee’s in a corner booth while Darcy pours us coffee and leaves the pot. Smart girl, she caught on quick.
Between the two of us, we ordered enough pancakes to carb up for a marathon, which we’d never do because…running.
“How was your week?” I question my syrup faced spawn.
Her food filled smile never dims until she speaks and breaks my little heart. “Torrie wants to go to the pond today to go skating. C an I go? She has an extra pair of ice skates.”
“Is it even cold enough to do that?”
“It isn’t.” Darcy cocks her hip out. “January. Never before. Torrie knows this. I’m going to go call her mom.” Our server stalks off with purpose, leaving horror etched on Lark’s face.
“I am not a tattletale!” she yells at Darcy’s back, which she ignores with a wave of a purple nailed hand.
“No, you aren’t, but…” I point my syrupy fork at her. “If it isn’t cold enough to go ice skating, then that situation could have ended badly. Like you two falling in the pond badly.”
“I know.”
I give her my perfected mom look, the one that screams that she knew better, and she obviously did if she voices that concern out loud. “Then why did you think it would be okay?” It isn’t like her, and that concerns me just a bit.
Her head droops, and she swirls her fork around her plate, spreading syrup. I let it go and just wait her out, knowing she will cave. “I wanted to make friends.”
“Lark, a loyal friend won’t request for you to do something dangerous that could affect your life in a permanent way.” I wince as I say the words, because I’ve heard some strange stories in the past about how friends purposely do just that, and it’s their thing.
She nods, but I’m not sure she understands. I’ll have to ask Arlo about Torrie later and make sure her parents are aware of what she asked of Lark. I’m sure it wasn’t due to any malicious intent.
“All right.” She sounds so defeated that a part of me wants to relent and allow her to go have fun and make mistakes, but she needs to understand that dangerous mistakes can cost her, her life, and that isn’t a bet I’m willing to take. “What am I supposed to do today?”
“What about that graveyard tour with Saffron?” I know I said the right thing because her eyes light up, and the sun hits her brown irises just right, so they sparkle. All thoughts of ice skating on the pond vanish.
“That’s a great idea.” Grabbing her orange juice, she chugs it while bouncing in her seat.
All things weird and creepy, and my girl is there. I’ve never been prouder than this moment. “Slow down there.”
“Mom,” she groans, setting her juice on the table with a clack.
“Here ya go, ladies.” Darcy places the check down—I swear the woman has uncanny timing—with a box of what smells like pastries. “For your date.” She winks at me before I can even reply to her.
“Date?” Lark questions.
Twelve years, and the only man I ever got close to was Eric, but he was just a friend. I’ve never dated, because at the end ofthe day, my sole concern was this beautiful creature in front of me. Not a guy.
Lark looks at me with a pleased smile, and I don’t know how to process that, even as nervous butterflies fill my stomach.
“It isn’t a date,” I hiss.
This time, she gives me that knowing look. “Does he know that?”
“Yes, I told him a dozen times.” Flailing my hand around the diner, I turn back to her. “How do they know?”
“It’s Silent Spring’s superpower,” she teases me. T his funny, sarcastic child teases me, and I’m not even mad, because it is something I’d do as well.
“You aren’t wrong.” I throw some cash down and stand, keeping my head down as I try to avoid the stares of the other patrons—people I haven’t met yet. Currently, my head is crowded with all the people I’ve met, and it’s only been a week. How has it only been a week?
