Chapter 47
Coco
I’ve been fired.
It was inevitable, but seeing the letter on my desk hits differently than envisioning it, because it’s real.
Word travels fast in a small town. No surprises there. To be honest, the one thing thatissurprising is the fact that I didn’t receive a call over the weekend informing me of the town’s decision.
Looks like the mayor held a private meeting after the wedding fiasco.
Oscar Rutledge, the man Dot couldn’t stand, hovers in the doorway, waiting for me to pack up my stuff and head out. It takes all of five minutes. I’ve only had this job a month. It’s not like I started squirreling away ramen noodles in my drawers for late-afternoon pick-me-ups.
“Sorry, Coco,” he says.
My shoulders sink. Oscar’s old, with gray-streaked hair, bushy eyebrows, and a permanent frown. I can see how he and Dot would’ve butted heads, but I’ve barely gotten to know him.
“It’s okay,” I tell him, dropping the last of my things into the cardboard box they provided.
I leave the office and hit the parking lot. Folks walk the streets, heading to the shops.
A few of them are locals—like Mrs. Malfree, who’s walking her pug.
She spots me and I wave, but she lifts her nose and looks the other way.
Looks like the shunning has begun.
What they don’t realize is that I’ve put my town first. I never would’ve dabbled in anything if not for my love of Mystic Meadows. Well, that and self-preservation.
The birds chirp as I unlock my car. In the park across the street, kids play on the swing set. Life goes on, doesn’t it? Even when one person falls apart, life still continues somewhere else.
I’m not sure that makes me feel better, but it certainly puts things in perspective.
“Why are we here?” I ask Cristina several nights later.
“Because you need to get out. You can’t stay in your house alone every night.”
I glance up at the exterior of Sparkle Bar. The swinging wooden placard portrays a smiling unicorn. If only I felt like smiling on the inside.
“Come on,” she says. “You’ve got friends there.”
She tugs on my sleeve, but I stay put, both feet glued to the sidewalk. “Stone sometimes comes here.”
What if he’s in there? I haven’t seen or heard from him in a week. He hasn’t even called about his things. He’s rich, so it’s not like he needs the shirts and pants. He can easily buy more.
But still ... I’d hoped he would contact me.
It’s no less than I deserve, I suppose.
“Stone’s not here,” she says. “I already made sure.”
That’s good. I guess. Exhaling a deep sigh, I say, “Okay. Let’s go.”
We head inside, and to my relief, the bar is busy. The jukebox plays, and people laugh as they toss darts and shoot pool.
This week would have been unbearable if Dad hadn’t called. My parents needed someone to fulfill prepper go bag orders, so they hired me. It’s not glamorous, but it’s work, keeping me busy while I heal.
Don’t worry, there’s still a hole in me the size of a fist.
