"I should get going."
My checklist needed attention to make sure I had everything for a weekend in the woods. I knew I did. Ialwaysdid. It didn’t mean I wouldn’t go over it again. Better safe than sorry. Instead, I sat at a table in Bistro on the Maine, coffee going cold in front of me. Morning light cut through the windows, turning the steam from Mum's cup gold.
Mum gave me that look.
Her hands hugged her mug as if she syphoned the last of its warmth into her body. Her boot came off in a week. She had been dropping not-so-subtle hints about my future. “When are you inviting me to your shop?” or “Where should I forwardyour mail?” served as gentle probes as she attempted to drag the answers out of me.
She’d find out soon enough. I wanted to tell Nick before the rumor mill spoiled it.
Near the window, Harvey and Walter hunched over their usual corner table. They kept glancing our way, then leaning close to whisper. Walter's eyebrows were doing gymnastics. Harvey elbowed him, which just made Walter grin wider. Their coffee sat untouched. Retired, they seemed to show up everywhere in Firefly.
"What's their deal?" Even as I asked, they held up a menu, hiding behind it.
“Who knows? They’re just being them,” Mum said, not meeting my eyes. She took a long sip. I hadn’t figured it out, but there wassomethinggoing on.
The kitchen door swung open. Simon emerged with two plates balanced on one arm. The chef jacket made him even more handsome, but it was the smell of butter and bacon that got my attention. He'd moved here from Boston when he needed a change of pace. Like Nick, he was a true flatlander. Despite that, the town welcomed him and treated them like their own.
I tried to reframe my thinking, acknowledging when Firefly had done good by its people. It was helping… a little… I think.
“Good morning.” He set down his breakfast scramble, steam rising. When he set down the plate with my breakfast sandwich, I almost chuckled. Jason said he knew how to handle a sausage. I had thought it was a euphemism, but apparently not. “Ellie, you’re looking as lovely as ever. Let me know if you need anything.”
"I really need to?—"
"Eat," Mum finished. Now Iknewsomething was amiss. She was working awfully hard to keep me from leaving.
Simon wiped his hands on his apron and sat down. He rolled up his sleeve. On his forearm sat a compass rose. Clean lines. Good shading. I appreciated a man who took care with the tattoos he put on his body.
"Nice. Where'd you get it?"
"Portland. Three years back." He ran his thumb over the ink. “Been thinking about another one.” He smiled at me, eyebrows waggling. “If somebody good set up shop here.”
The idea kept coming up. Mum had made me promise to at least entertain the idea. Firefly Valley, the home of cute and charming, couldn’t support a tattoo shop. Though I thought the same about a bakery that only served whoopie pies. It wasn’t financially responsible, but that didn’t mean I didn’t revisit it.
“Think of the tourist wanting to commemorate their summers in Maine.”
I shot Mum a dirty look.
“She’s not wrong,” he said. “Even in Firefly, it’s not exactly taboo.”
“Not you, too. Is that why you invited me to breakfast? Guilt?”
She didn’t argue the point as she nibbled on her bacon. At first, I thought she might have enlisted Simon to knock some sense into me. I might have believed that was everything, but with Walter and Harvey giggling in the corner, this wasn’t the end.
“Besides, if you think my ink is impressive?—”
The door chimed. The trap had been sprung.
Lacie burst through with her arms spread wide as if she expected applause. Before I could comment, Mabel Syrup followed, stiletto heels clicking against the floor. Behind her, Nick, his face already red. The cute guy distracted me, but it was hard to ignore the scantily clad outfits and the…
Tattoos. All three were covered in tattoos.
Arms. Necks. Hands. Lacie’s midriff shirt showed off more ink. My mind raced to the time it’d take, or the money they’d have to drop to cover that much skin. Bold black designs weren't there yesterday. Even the expertly placed teardrop on Mabel’s face stood out. I expected nothing less from Lacie, but to what end?
I set my coffee down. “What are you?—”
“Jealous?” she asked.
Lacie struck a pose in the doorway. Mabel matched her. Both grinning like they'd won something. They shifted, pressed against one another. There was no question that they had practiced their couple’s poses. Nick smirked, offering a slight wave as if they had dragged them into their madness. Again.
