I avoided looking at my own mom, cutting thick slabs of cooled fudge in the window.
The kid’s hand crept out.
“Go ahead.” I grinned wickedly as he took the treat. “I double dare you. On three. One…two…”
He popped it in his mouth.
“Good, right?” I asked as he chewed.
He nodded, eyes wide.
“I want some!”
“Me, too!” his siblings clamored.
I gave samples to his brother and sister and sold three pounds of fudge to his embarrassed mother—two slices each of chocolate and chocolate peanut butter, one sea salt caramel, one Michigan maple pecan.
“Horse poop,” my mother snorted when they’d left.
“Hey, it worked,” I said. “We should make it a thing. So thematic! We could bag them and sell them as Horse Patty Candy.”
“Very creative,” Beverly Powell said. She was seated at one of the tables, reading.
“Thanks, Mrs.P.” I wiped my hands on my apron. “Can I get you anything?”
Stupid question. A cup of tea sat, hot and untouched, at her elbow.
But I needed to keep busy. I wanted to feel useful.
The shop was quiet—the midafternoon lull before the day-trippers rushed in to load up on fudge and catch the ferry back to the mainland.
This morning, when Joe came in for his usual cup of coffee, I’d asked about his plans for the day. Basically code for:Can I see you? When can I see you? Take me now, big pirate.
He’d sipped his coffee, a hint of a smile in his eyes, while he told me about his current project, an entry door for a big house in the Woodbluff subdivision. Admittedly, I’d been too busy watching his face, listening to his voice, to focus on the details about old-growth wood and mortise-and-tenon joints (whatever those were). But I could hear his excitement; I could see him turning his passion into something real and lasting, and an unnamed yearning had cracked my chest.
I loved teaching. I did. I was proud I’d made it throughmy first year with Zoom classes and courtyard read-ins. But something had changed since Principal Curtis had called me into his office.
Last night, I’d opened my laptop to work on my story—any story—and found an email from Sarah in my inbox. I still had a job, if I wanted it. If not, could I let her know? Because my replacement was hoping for a contract. She’d signed it, “Best.” And instead of the expected rush of relief, a knot had formed in my stomach.
I swallowed it down. I’d think about it tomorrow.
I was doing my best to live in the present. To be in the moment. I bused an empty table, picturing what Joe was doing right now. Hoping he was thinking about me. I wondered when he would finish for the day and what the chances were that we could be alone. I wondered if he had another birthmark to match the one I’d found curled like a pale brown comma around his navel.
And if I wondered, just for a moment, if I was using him to avoid contemplating my life choices, to fill in the blanks where my life should be, I shoved it way down, where I wouldn’t have to deal with it.
When my phone buzzed in my back pocket, I jumped.
Hailey:Hiiii 3:00 Dwightwood Spring beach #GreenGablesChallenge!!!!
I grinned.
Beverly raised an eyebrow. “Good news?”
I stuffed my phone away. “It’s Hailey. She and Liv are making another Anne of Green Gables TikTok.”
“Not walking the ridgepole, I hope.”
“Ha ha. Nope.”
