“I’m sorry, baby,” she says against my shoulder.
“It’s all good,” I assure her. “And thank you for having my back.”
She looks up at me, eyes a little wet, then turns to Penny, who’s standing a few feet away, her face shining with tears she isn’t bothering to hide.
“You keep him honest,” Mama says gently.
“I’m trying,” Penny replies, voice thick and bright at once.
Dad claps my shoulder with the same big-handed affection he’s used my whole life. “Proud of you,” he mutters, like the words are heavy but worth lifting.
We stand there—the four of us, and the town that won’t ever learn to whisper—until Mama clears her throat and straightens her pearls. “All right, then,” she says. “Who wants pie? I’m buying.”
“No, I’m buying,” I say, hooking one arm through Penny’s and the other through my mother’s.
Floyd materializes like he was conjured by the word. “Now we’re speaking my spiritual language.”
Laughter catches and spreads. The square loosens its fists.
I glance down at Penny as we walk back to Central Café, and she smiles at me with that same steadfast support she’s shown since she found out my secret.
Maybe love is roots and wings, but maybe faith is letting both do their work without trying to hold either back. I resolve myself to have confidence in this relationship. She’s the girl I’m in love with, and I just witnessed a town undergo a transformation. If that isn’t a testament to embracing our differences, I don’t know what is.
CHAPTER 22
Penny
My suitcase waitsby the front door—all zipped, upright and obnoxiously sure of itself—as if it’s already halfway to Washington and can’t believe I’m still dithering about goodbyes to this Podunk town.
Snobbish luggage!
Muriel’s in her recliner, feet propped on the ottoman and robe belted tight. She looks equal parts grandmother and general, one hand wrapped around a sweating glass of sweet tea and the other clutching the remote so she can get caught up on her soap operas as soon as I leave.
“You keep starin’ at that suitcase like it’s got the answers,” she says, not looking away from the local news, which is winding up.
“Maybe it does,” I mumble, pacing the small stretch of floor between the sofa and the front window.
“What’s that?” she crows, pretending to be hard of hearing.
I shoot her a subtle glare. “Nothing.”
“Don’t nothing me,” she retorts. “What’s the suitcase sayin’ to you?”
Breathing a frustrated huff, I wave my hands. “Maybe it’s saying, ‘Don’t do this, Penny. Stay right here in Whynot.’”
Muriel gives me a look over the rim of her glasses. “I told you, I’m fine. I’ve got Betsy, Connie and Reba all splitting the duties you were handling for me. I’m fully able to spend time at the restaurant and run things otherwise. It’s time for you to go. You have a shiny new promotion waiting in DC, and even if this has turned into a tragedy because you caught the feelings, you know you’re destined for bigger than Whynot.”
I flop down on the sofa adjacent to her chair. “Caught feelings?”
“Caught the feelings,” she repeats. “With Sam. You caught the feelings and it’s holding you back. A nasty bug, really.”
“It’s not a cold,” I mutter.
“No,” she says mildly. “But you’re actin’ like you might die from it.”
I sigh and glance around the living room. “I just worry about the café. You’re still getting your strength back, and—”
She waves a hand. “I’ve got it handled. You trained Connie to do inventory and ordering,didn’t you?”
