Liv winced. “Ah, shit. I’m really saying more than I should, here. I thought you might know…” She held up her hands. “Nevermind. Please don’t tell Dell I mentioned him. Luca’s not the point here. What is?—”
And then their food arrived.
There were fresh pears sliced on top of her french toast, and between that and Liv’s cursing—Mae always felt more comfortable being with someone she knew she could curse around—Mae almost wanted to cry in gratitude.
Once she got over the fact that Dell was fromPortland. What neighborhood had he lived in? God, he’d probably had some gorgeous house on the west side. Or Westmoreland, maybe, Sellwood. No, that’d be too hip for him. She had so many fucking questions.
“What is important,” Liv continued as she reached for the hot sauce at the end of the table, “is that I believe Dell might have a fair bit of PTSD, and I’m only telling you this because if you’re living five yards away from him, you should know. Think loud noises bother him. He always takes the dogs to somewhere in the middle of the woods on the Fourth of July. New Year’s, too, I believe.”
“So he was in the middle of a trigger,” Mae said, mostly to herself, trying to push Portland to the side for now. Andshit, she’d done it with her over-enthusiastic knocking. “I think I already almost knew that. I worked with people in crisis, sometimes, back in Portland. I was a social worker.”
“‘Course you were,” Liv said easily, before shoveling in some of her omelet. And then, “Man, Nova really would’ve loved you.”
Mae looked up from her French toast. “Nova?”
“My wife.”
“Oh.” Mae was still navigating how to do this. Talk out loud about the dead. Eventually, she decided to go for honesty. “That makes me feel really good.”
Liv smiled back at her. “It should.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes. Mae’s mind drifted back to Dell. How she was still a little shaken, a little pissed at him, even if it hadn’t been his fault. How she was worried about him. If he was coming down okay.
“So about this month that you’ve been here now,” Liv said when Mae was halfway through her French toast. She looked up to see Liv waving a fork at her. “How’s that been going for you?”
“With the store, you mean?”
Liv shrugged. “Sure.”
“Great.” Mae smiled, and without being able to stop herself, launched into a monologue about the shelves Dell was making, and the work the Gutierrez boys had done, and Gemma’s murals, and how the heating and plumbing even worked now. How many followers she’d gained on social media. Liv chewed and drank coffee and listened, with a politely amused look on her face.
“So anyway,” Mae finished. “I’m feeling really good about it all. I actually can’t believe how it’s all coming together already.”
Liv took another slow, assessing sip of coffee before she spoke again. Mae distinctly felt like she was about to be graded on a presentation. And even though she’d worked really hard on it, the outlook wasn’t good.
“You talk much to Marty yet?”
“Marty?”
“Martinez. Head of the Small Business Association.”
“Oh!” Mae smiled in recognition. “I’ve emailed him a few times, actually.” See? She knew stuff. She was doing her homework. Literally, emailing Austin Martinez had been part of her OCCC homework, but she wasn’t going to tell Liv that.
“About that.” Liv adjusted her mug on the table until its handle was just so. “Marty never checks his emails.”
“But…” Mae tilted her head. “He’s the president of the Small Business Association.”
“Yeah, and he can barely turn on a computer. You have to email Olive if you want anything to actually get done. Or, no, I shouldn’t say that. Marty gets stuff done. But if you want your emails read, you gotta send them to Olive.”
Mae wracked her brain for a second.
“Olive Young. She’s the treasurer. And the woman who’s real pumped about my gay flags.”
Liv shot her a finger gun. Mae’s chest puffed with the approval.
“What small business does she run again?”
“An antique store slash kitschy odds and ends place. Called This and That, right on Nehalem, behind the hardware store.”
