That’s the bare, simple truth of it.
“You didn’t getanythingout of her old gymnastics teacher?” I ask Zen on our way into Bean & Nugget early Tuesday morning.
“I learned I can still do a cartwheel,” Zen reports.
“I meant anythinghelpful.”
“If you ever need to torture me, you should hold me upside down, because while I can cartwheel like a nine-year-old—that’s all momentum—I can’t handstand to save my life.”
I stop at the back door, hands freezing, toes going numb, and give my nibling ayou know that’s not what I meanlook.
As usual, Zen is immune, but they smile as they finally give me the information I’m waiting for. “Sabrina Sullivan was mouthy but mostly walked the line of not beingtoomouthy while being friendly and helpful when she took gymnastics as a kid. She would’ve gone a lot further if she hadn’t twisted her knee in second grade, which her teacher suspected was a fake injury, but could never prove. And she also said if a kid didn’t want to be in gymnastics, then it’s better for them to find what they wanted to do. And considering Sabrina was, in fact, born in the kitchen right next to the sink and basically grew up there, there’s no question Bean & Nugget is where she belongs.”
“It took you five hours last night to find that out?”
“No, I stuck around and did an adult gymnastics class.”
“You did an adult gymnastics class,” I repeat.
“It was fun.”
“Youparticipated.”
“In corduroy pants and a button-down shirt.”
NowI’mthe one stopping us from entering the back door when the cold is generally something I’ll avoid at all costs. “And?”
“Does the name Austin George ring a bell?”
I frown. “Is that one of the neighbors who dropped off food?”
They laugh. “Uncle Grey. He’s a gold-medal gymnast from like twenty years ago?”
“Oh.”
“He and his husband run the gym in town now. Bought it like eight years ago. SoafterSabrina’s brief rule as the terror of Tooth Gymnastics.”
I bite back the question about how Sabrina’s now aterror. “That doesn’t mean they get the instant Zen seal of approval.”
“Yes, it does.”
“It does?”
“When one of your childhood idols offers to help you do a cartwheel, you do the fucking cartwheel, and then you stay and gossip with all of the fabulous ladies who were there for class before heading to the salon where Sabrina’s mother works for an apparentlysuperlate night rendezvous that might’ve been hosted by a local Wiccan who’sWiccan cool. Heh.”
I refuse to admit how much my entire body perks up at the mention of Sabrina’s name again and how much I don’t really care about the rest of that sentence. “And?”
“And I don’t remember any of their real names, so take this with a grain of salt, but Myrtle has a grandson who just switched college majors for the fourth time, Viola’s Subaru is at that age where she knows it’ll last another ten years, but also, if she sellsnow, she’ll get a better deal than if she lets it get any older on a trade-in, and Sue Ellen’s daughter seriously needs a divorce, in Sue Ellen’s opinion, but if you ask me, Sue Ellen is a judgmental hag who sees what she wants to see and has no idea what her daughter’s marriage is really all about.”
“You’re fired.”
Zen is grinning broader than I’ve seen them grin in ages when talking about anyone other than me or my sister’s gastrointestinal issues. “Myrtle also said Sabrina saved her from going on a date with a guy who turned out to be some kind of scam artist in the obscure profession of toy train collecting. Something about passing off replicas as vintage. Viola reports Sabrina’s the reason the old mayor lost his reelection bid six years ago, and the new mayor’s the reason tourists keep coming to the train station and the old mine even in winter now. Oh, and the Valentine’s Day heart walk on Main Street next week was apparently Sabrina’s idea too, and if we back out of hosting the speed dating station, the general single population of the Tooth will be what runs us out of business and also makes sure that the kombucha bar fails. Sue Ellen thinks Sabrina knows things about her and is saving them for a rainy day, but I couldn’t get out of her what gossip she thinks Sabrina knows, so she’s probably either in debt or secretly has a crush on some crusty old dude.”
“You’re rehired, but on probation.”
“Uncle Grey, you know all the right things to say to make a person’s dreams come true. P. S., freakingask Sabrina out already. She issonot on Team Cheese Turd. Plus she can make or break this place after you renovate it. Also, you’d be doing me a favor if you got laid again.” Zen throws the back door open, and we step inside to a disaster of a kitchen.
Disastermay be something of an overstatement. But there shouldn’t be dishes in the sink at five in the morning. The grill shouldn’t be on. I shouldn’t smell coffee this strongly. And the dining room lightdefinitelyshouldn’t be glowing, nor should voices be coming from there.
