But will I? Lily said not to tell anyone she was here. Hopefully Gwen will just forget about it.
“I should go grab everything for dinner,” I say. Gwen and I have an arrangement that I’ll cook dinner for her while I’m staying at her place. She calls it my penance. I’ll gladly accept free rent for cooking her meals, especially considering how my bank account is closer to zero than ever. Gwen and the boys wave goodbye, and I head over to the shops. I have to get used to walking everywhere in Brookhaven again, since cars aren’t allowed in the center of town, but it gives such a quaint, homey feel to the whole city. Besides, I don’t mind not driving after…well, I don’t like to talk about that.
There isn’t a main grocery store here, either, so I have to pick up the different ingredients at different markets. As I’m leaving the butcher shop with a couple of steaks, I run into Suzette, whose husband is the baker.
“Ryder Hawthorne?!” she cries, rushing over to me and smothering me in a hug.
“Hello, Suzette,” I say, my voice muffled in her shoulder.
She pulls back and squeezes my cheeks in her firm grip. “It’s so good to see you! Are you back in town?”
“Just for a few weeks,” I reply.
“Oh, you’ll justhaveto come to book club tonight!” She ruffles my hair, making it stick out all over the place.
“I think I might be busy.”
She raises a brow at me. “I’m sure you have some time for your favorite ladies.”
Before I can protest, she cries out, “Rosalie! Look who’s here!”
I turn over my shoulder to see old Rosalie and her walker. “DID SOMEONE CALL ME?”
“YES, ROSALIE,” Suzette shouts directly into my ear. “COME HERE, IT’S RYDER HAWTHORNE!”
I rub my ear as Rosalie slowly pushes her walker in our direction. “IS THAT RYDER HAWTHORNE?” she shouts.
“YES, DEAR,” Suzette shouts again. This time I have the sense to pull back from the sound waves.
“Hello, Rosalie,” I say, bending down to hug her. She lets go of her walker with one hand and wraps a firm arm around my waist, then slaps me on the rear end.
I’m not kidding.
“RYDER, DEAR, IT’S LOVELY TO SEE YOU. I HOPE YOU’LL JOIN GWEN AT BOOK CLUB TONIGHT.”
“Oh, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it,” I say.
“WHAT WAS THAT?”
I clear my throat and try to speak more loudly. “I said?—”
“GRACIE! COME SEE RYDER HAWTHORNE! HE’S ALL GROWN WITH A FIRM REAR END!”
I think I’m going to die of embarrassment, especially now that all the shopkeepers are watching the spectacle in the center of town.
Gracie is unusually spry for her old age, and her looks haven’t changed at all, except her dark brown hair has streaks of gray. And apparently her hearing is just fine. She saunters over to us and gives my arm a gentle squeeze. “Hello, Ryder. It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Gracie.”
“I was just asking him to come to book club tonight,” Suzette says.
“Oh, that would be lovely,” Gracie confirms. “The club meets in my shop every week.”
Gracie owns the Brookhaven bookshop, which is where Gwen would drag me as teenagers and taught me to love reading.It’s also where I got my first copy ofThe Count of Monte Cristo.
“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING?” Rosalie chimes in. “IS HE COMING TONIGHT?”
“I’d love to,” I say as loudly as I can, “but?—”
