She winked, her big smile radiant with the little gap between her front teeth. “I look forward to hearing it.”
“Planning on hearing it, are you?”
“It’s a figure of speech, jerk. But yes. I’m going to be so smug about being vindicated that my hearing will come back just for that.”
“If anyone would do it, it’d be you.” I stood up, signing with a more relaxed posture now. “It’s still a minute before I have to leave, though. So, I’m guessing you’re going to invite yourself to dinner with me while you’re here?”
She laughed. “You don’t want to read that book instead? I know you’ve been looking forward to it.”
I signedfunnyand nodded to the kitchen. “I’ve got some wax samples testing for my next round of candles, though, if you want to sample some scents with me.”
“Ooh, good call,” she said. “Maybe you can take a candle as a gift and brighten up the space! They’ve probably run out of your last one.”
Not if they were sick of me. But I wasn’t about to explain to Cat I was doing this to try repairingherrelationships, not mine, so I’d go along with it.
Chapter 4
Alyssa
The Birdhouse felt awfully nostalgic for a place I’d never actually been—I’d seen it in the background of some of Daniela’s pictures, and squeezing in through the doorframe and into a room with the big carved wood bar I’d seen in all the pictures, I was getting excited enough to forget how tired I was.
It was a beautiful space with wood paneling and furniture that made it feel a little like it was the inside of a handmade birdhouse, especially with the big windows at the back that were crowded with foliage from the trees down the hill. It smelled like cedar and botanicals, with artwork of all different styles—and all different skill levels—crowded up on the walls and propped up on the tables, and it was lively even before people called out to Daniela. It picked up into an excited chatter as Daniela led me in, sticking close to my side as a group of people rushed to meet us at the entrance, a woman with a midnight-purple bob cut at the front squeezing Daniela in a hug.
“So you’re not dead!” she said. “I would never have known.”
“I have a job, Abby!” Daniela laughed, patting her on the back. “You’ll live if I’m not on call literally twenty-four seven. I was just here on Monday.”
“That’s plenty of time for you to have died!” Abby said, stepping back with her hands on her hips. Another woman smiled at me, a little older than the others, maybe late forties, wearing a sleek jacket and slacks that must have been tailored with how well they fit.
“You must be Alyssa, then,” she said.
“Yeah, you must be, then,” Abby said, turning to me with an eyebrow waggle before she looked back at Daniela. “You didn’t tell me she was this cute.”
Daniela sighed. “Give her, like, twelve hours before you try to hit on her. My god.”
“It’s true, though,” I said, folding my arms. “I told Daniela she wasn’t allowed to tell anybody how cute I am. I just didn’t want people fighting over me.”
Abby snorted, and she broke out into a big grin. “You’re so responsible,” she said. “Practically a saint. I’m Abby, by the way.”
“This is Abby,” Daniela said, gesturing to her, and then the older woman with, “And this is Charlie. The pouty serious face with her is Linda.”
“Oh, Charlie and Linda,” I laughed, lighting up. “Oh, god, Daniela’s talked about you two all the time… especially the part about going to your dinner parties until Linda served shrimp.”
Charlie laughed, and Daniela reddened, clapping a hand over her face. “Alyssa!” she said. “Oh my god, we’re leading with that?”
Linda scowled a little, but she still laughed, her dark eyebrows quirking as she did. “Daniela spendshowmuch time talking about my cooking skills?”
Charlie put a hand on her back. “Daniela just has high standards, dear. Don’t take it personally.”
I’d heard plenty about the two of them—Charlie a queer advocacy lawyer and Linda the administrator at the localcommunity college, both of them bonding over their love of spreadsheets and everything being extremely detail-oriented. Charlie was a decent amount older—I think they were forty-eight and thirty-four—but nobody had been surprised to see the two of them get together. Nor for how quickly they moved in together. Nor for how organized and well-planned their move-in was. Charlie had a confident, dignified energy, with short blonde hair, while Linda was a little on the short side, long dark hair tied into a practical ponytail, visibly more of the outdoorsy between the two of them with her sturdy forest-green jacket and boots. I’d heard the gossip about them from the day they first met, following their relationship secondhand as they fell in love and moved in together, and getting to meet them now felt as surreal as meeting Daniela had.
Linda put out her hand for me. “Linda. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Paxton Ridge.”
I shook her hand—a little formal, but she clearly liked it. “Thanks so much for sending out the welcoming party. I really appreciate you all receiving a refugee.”
“Refugee is a strong word,” Abby said, “which sounds like you need a strong drink. It’s on the house. To welcome you.”
“I’m, like, still a little shaky from almost hitting a tree with my car, so yeah, actually, that sounds great. Maybe like a rum and Coke.”
