She was close to my mom.
I school my face. The town means well, but that doesn’t make it easier to be its winter charity case.
“Afternoon, Meri.” I force a swallow, realizing my plan to stay invisible is gone.
“Are you waiting on someone?” She smiles, almost like she’s hopeful. “If you think they’ll be along shortly, I can go ahead and grab that order for you. We’re running a little behind right now anyway.”
“Sure, let me take a quick glance at the menu.”
I don’t need to, but it’ll give me a minute to collect myself. I flip open the menu I set on the table and scan it, suddenly craving snickerdoodles. No surprise as to why.
Luckily for me, Finley is known for hers.
“Can we get an order of snickerdoodles and a few eggnog cookies?”
Chloe loves most things, eggnog, or at least, she used to. It hits me square in the chest when I realize I don’t really know her anymore.
And that’s my fault.
She looks at me, pen poised. “Of course you can. You want a full dozen of the regulars?” she asks, jotting in her notepad.
“That sounds good. Thanks.” I nod.
There’s no way I’ll eat that many, but Chloe can take some home to Phoebe. She told me she liked them yesterday, so it seems like a nice thing to do.
I don’t know why I’m thinking about her kid and cookies. The thought lands too easily, and that scares me.
Then a memory shoulders its way to the forefront of my brain.
A cold night at the end of a semester in a booth in Texas, whispering and laughing about the future with a box of snickerdoodles in front of us. There’s another pang in my chest, sharper than before. We had no idea what was coming and didn’t care. All we cared about was living in the moment.
That version of me feels like a stranger now.
“I know it’s not my place, but can I say something?” Meri asks.
I blink up at her, somewhat grateful for the interruption of memories. She tucks her pencil behind her ear, and I see that lock pass across her face. The one that screams: “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I hate that phrase.
“Can I get those cookies to go?” I ask, the words half-sticking in my throat as I move to get out of the bench.
“Honey, I’m not going to say what you think. Sit down.”
For a second, I consider leaving anyway. But this woman was friends with my mom, and my mom would’ve kicked my butt for that behavior. So I nod and drop back down on the cushion.
“Your mama and I were good friends, not that I’d expect you to remember much about that.” She smiles and scoots into the other side of the booth. “So I don’t feel out of place saying what I’m about to say.”
Anxiously, I rub my beard, waiting for her to continue. Now I’m half expecting her to chastise me for letting the farm go dark for so long, which might be worse.
“I know you were dealt a terrible deck, and I can’t imagine the pressure you’ve been under. But I also know that sometimes,we get a second chance, and I don’t want to see you squash yours before you’ve gotten a chance to live it.”
I frown. “What are you?—”
“Chloe,” she says, angling her gaze so she’s looking at me over the top of her glasses.
With one word, she’s got me squirming in my seat like I just got caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
“How do you?—”
