“Seems ah heard sumpin’ ’bout it,” Jimmy replies. “Tell me more.”
“Well,” Larkin says.
I kick her harder and she yelps, turning to face me.
“Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll fill you in.”
My best friend crosses her arms on the table, ignores her wine and lifts her eyebrows in a gesture that she’s ready to absorb.
I take another sip of the Weissburgunder, not because I need the fortification, but because it is indeed delicious. “Okay… seeing Sam’s name on those posters, hearing people cheer for him at Chesty’s, I’m so proud.”
Her mouth quirks. “I know there better be more to this story,” she warns because she doesn’t care about Sam’s writing or the community divide right now. She wants the deeper deets.
I circle my finger around the top of my glass. “Sam is… amazing. He’s smart, kind, funny, accomplished. What’s not to like?”
“Sounds like a lot to love,” she counters.
I jolt. “Love?”
“Yeah… love. I mean, if you’re aiming high, those are the qualities you want for a committed, forever relationship.”
“Well, duh,” I quip. “But… we just started seeing each other. That’s a big leap.”
“Have you had sex?” she asks bluntly.
Larkin can’t shock me and I wouldn’t hide this information. “Yes, and it was freaking amazing. Transcendental, even. But still… love?”
“Oh, come on, Penny Bean,” she chides. “I get you’re a big-city gal these days, but you’re still a small-town romantic. Besides, you’ve known Sam your whole life. He’s not a stranger, and I know this because you’d never jump into bed that fast. I know there are deep feelings here.”
“Of course there are,” I agree. Why deny it? “But… it’s kind of, sort ofterrifying.”
“Why?” she asks, twirling her wedding band. Easy for her to ask when she’s found her happily ever after.
“Because you said it… I’m a big-city gal. In case you forgot, my life is in Washington. Sam’s life is here.”
“Doesn’t have to be,” she rebukes.
“What… you think he’s just going to pack up and move there with me?”
“Why not? His job is mobile. Have laptop, will travel.”
I shake my head, ignoring that small punch of hope that something like that could be a possibility. “No… Sam is Whynot. Whynot is Sam. He loves this place and would never leave, and even if he would, he’d be miserable. All of this was supposed to be temporary. I came back to help Muriel. Not to”—I gesture vaguely at the table, the town, the stars beginning to blink overhead—“fall for the guy next door.”
Her brows lift. “So, which is it? You fallin’ for him… or just visitin’?”
The question hangs heavy between us. I swirl my wine, watching the pale gold whirlpool catch the fading light. Somewhere behind us, a tractor engine sputters back to life, and the sound fills the silence I can’t seem to.
“I don’t know,” I say finally. “Sam feels right in a way nothing in DC ever has. But that’s where my work is. It’s where I’ve built my purpose. When I’m there, Ifeel like I’m doing something important. When I’m here…” I glance around at the twinkle lights and the farmers laughing by the pumps. “I feel like I’m someone.”
Larkin studies me, her smile softening. “Maybe you’re both. Maybe you just need to figure out where your voice sounds loudest. You could take that passion and do something here with it. And selfishly, I’d kill for you to come back home for good.”
I snort, half amused, half touched. “You sure you don’t moonlight as a therapist?”
She clinks her glass against mine. “Nah, just Southern. We’re born with the gift of nosy wisdom.”
A burst of laughter escapes me. It feels good, easy. Around us, Whynot hums in that perfect, unpolished harmony it does best—trucks idling, cicadas warming up for their nightly concert, the faint hum of a country song leaking from someone’s cab.
Another farmer rolls up in a beat-up Chevy and tips his hat. “Don’t drink all the good stuff, ladies.”
