In so many ways, Fern reminded Evie of her grandmother. A woman who brooked no nonsense, who did the work of two in the time of one, and somehow kept an eye on everyone. Most mornings, sharing a love of rising early, Evie and Fern would chat over coffee as the sun rose. At the end of the day, Evie fell into a pattern of helping Fern weed or water her big vegetablegarden. Those moments meant so much to Evie—she felt as if she was reliving happy memories, before her grandmother’s health started to fail. Time with Fern was special.
But that didn’t mean Evie had stopped hoping for an aha moment with Charlie, a romantic breakthrough where he’d suddenly stop, take a second look at her, and say, “Why, Evie, you and I are meant for each other!”
So far, that moment had yet to come.
David was at the register at the Bent N’ Dent when Hank Lapp’s booming voice filled the store. “Clara Zook! LOOK at those BABIES!” Hank spoke with his usual enthusiasm, his voice echoing through the aisles. Clara had just stepped in with her infant twins in a stroller and looked a bit worn around the edges.
As soon as Hank’s greeting rang out, both babies startled awake. The first let out a sharp, piercing cry, and within seconds, the other followed suit, their combined wails reverberating off the shelves. The noise seemed to paralyze the store. Shoppers paused mid-aisle, glancing around uncomfortably. A woman who had been examining a jar of pickles set it down with a sigh and said, “I’ll just come back later.” Eli Fisher, Annie’s dad, halfway through his shopping, put his items back on the shelf and made a quiet exit behind the pickle jar woman.
David watched the scene unfold, feeling a mix of concern and helplessness. Clara, looking flustered, tried her best to soothe the babies, gently rocking the stroller and murmuring soft words. But their cries only grew louder, drowning out the usual hum of the store. He wasn’t sure how to help, as Sarah Blank had called in sick today and he was managing the store alone. Two customers were in line, looking like they wanted to leave as fast as possible.
The jingles on the door rang again, and in marched WrenBaker. She cast a frown in Clara’s direction but didn’t break stride. Instead, she headed straight for the refrigerated cooler of drinks.
Hank Lapp had settled back into his rocking chair, oblivious to the commotion he’d created. The babies’ cries ratcheted up a few notches. David couldn’t even hear the ping as the cash register opened. Clara, her face red with frustration and embarrassment, with both babies still screaming, turned and pushed the stroller out of the store, her head lowered to avoid the stares of the graybeards—covering their ears—in their rocking chairs. The door swung shut behind her, muffling the cries that had dominated the store just moments before.
As the noise died down, Wren stood in line, waiting her turn. When she reached the counter, she handed over a five-dollar bill for a bottle of iced tea. “If I had to hear that racket every day, I think I’d lose it,” she said with a half smile, making a downward motion with her hand to emphasize her point. She leaned in a bit closer. “Any chance you’ve got a discount for impoverished medical staff?”
David handed back the five-dollar bill. “How about a ‘Welcome to Stoney Ridge’ discount instead?”
Wren gave him a playful wave, raised her iced tea in a mock toast. “Thanks,” she said, striding out the door.
As she left, a wave of unease settled over him.
He could practically hear Birdy’s voice in his head, asking:What made you think it was a goodidea to give Dok advice on supervising her residents whenyou don’t even know them at all?
He really didn’t have an answer to give her. He winced. Humbled again.
