“Are you planning to join them, too?”
She shook her head. “No. Too much to do around here. I’ve got a PB&J in the back with my name on it that I’ll eat whenever I get a break.”
He paused a moment, something brewing behind his chestnut eyes. But then he stepped back from the counter and tipped his hat. “Good to see you, Trinity.”
“You too,” she said before he was out the door, the flurry of snow dusting flakes onto his broad shoulders as he took her advice and picked up his pace to head toward the café. She watched him until he got to the corner of the street and turned, and she could no longer see him.
It was an oddly brief interaction but that was okay. They’d spent so much time together a few days ago that she doubted he wanted to hang around the shop again. Plus, he had plans to eat lunch with his family. He probably didn’t want to keep them waiting.
So, an hour later when she headed into the back to grab that peanut butter and jelly sandwich and she heard the bell chiming once again, she didn’t think it would be Spencer. He was probably well on his way back to the ranch, full from lunch.
“Trinity?” a man’s voice called out from the front of the store. “You still here?”
Just four words, but it was enough for her to recognize instantly. “Spencer?”
She could smell it before she could see it, that faint aroma she’d come to associate with her favorite meal at the café.
Spencer stood on the other side of the counter, brown bag in hand. “Turkey club with sweet potato fries, right?” There was a hopeful look on his face, asking for confirmation that he’d gottenit correct. “And there should be a side of ranch tucked in there, too.”
He slid the grease-dotted bag across the table.
“You got this for me?” She opened up the bag, immediately hit with a comfort-food smell that made her mouth water.
“Sounded better than PB&J.” He shrugged.
“You have no idea.” She rolled the top of the bag back down. “That was so thoughtful of you, Spencer. Truly.”
“Didn’t want you to work on an empty stomach.”
When was the last time someone had made sure she didn’t go hungry? As a mother, it was her duty to keep her own kids fed and full, and making family meals fell squarely on her shoulders now that she was a single mom. This was a small gesture, but she felt it so deeply that she could sense her chin begin to quiver.
“I hope that was okay for me to do,” Spencer said, taking note of the way she fought to hold back the tears.
“Yes, of course. I’m grateful.” She sniffed. “I don’t know why I’m so emotional over this.”
“Hey, I’ve been known to shed a tear over a perfectly cooked ribeye, so I get it.” His humor—and his understanding—was exactly what she’d needed in that moment.
“You’re a good friend, Spencer.” Something faltered in his smile when she called him a friend. “And a good man,” she added on.
The corner of his mouth hooked back up again, and a dimple pressed into his right cheek. “I hope you enjoy it.” He drummed his hands on the counter and stepped back. “I’ll catch up with you later tonight.”
“Oh?” She stilled. Did they have plans? That was something she would have remembered.
“Clara and Nana finished the quilts, so I’ll need some help deciding which one would look best in the house. There are two,and Clara said she’d take whatever one I didn’t want. Can I FaceTime you to get your opinion?”
“Of course,” she said. “Until then.”
With a tip of his hat and a dip of his chin, he grinned and echoed, “Until then.”
Both kiddos were in bed,and Trinity was heading that way soon, too.
But she still hadn’t heard from Spencer, and to be honest, she didn’t want to wash off her face of makeup or put on her pajamas until they’d already FaceTimed. So, she tidied up around the house more than she typically did for their nighttime routine. Started the dishwasher and laundered a small load of towels. She even dusted the blinds, something she hadn’t done in…had she ever dusted them thoroughly? Based on the state of the duster, she doubted it.
By eight-thirty she decided to put on a comfy sweatshirt and sweatpants, not quite pajamas but not the jeans and sweater she’d had on earlier in the day. She cozied in on the couch and picked up the book on the end table, the one that she’d started and stopped ten times over. It was hard for a book to hold her interest lately. One of her dear friends, Sarah Hart, was a librarian at the local library and was always suggesting the latest reads and romances. Trinity even checked a few of them out once. But the borrowing time came and went, and even renewing them didn’t give her enough time to finish the books. Her attention span just wasn’t very long.
As she tried to read the current book in her hands, she found her eyes moving across the pages, but retained nothing. That was because every part of her brain was elsewhere, with no roomfor any other inputs. She felt like that most days. Like she was operating at capacity.
She had lists going: finish that silly turkey costume by Monday, pack the classroom snack for Liam’s preschool, order extra long-stemmed red roses for an anniversary bouquet one of her customers placed last minute.
