His brow shot up. “Who?”
“Lizzy Graham. Do you remember her?”
His forehead creased. “Lizzy Graham? Nah.”
Trying to jog his memory, I drew from what I recalled. “She lived at the lake. Blond hair, played in the band? In the honors program?”
“You talking about Lizzy Grant?”
“Might have been.” I’d had that thought myself, but then she hadn’t corrected me. Maybe she’d misheard me.
“Oh, yeah, sure. I think she tutored me in… I wanna say chemistry. Real nice girl. Haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Did you keep in touch?”
“Nah, but everyone follows me on socials.” Because of course they did. “Except you.” He shot me an accusatory glance, and it made me feel extra shitty for always bailing instead of just dealing with my trauma.
I slid out my phone and found his profile easily enough. “Rectifying that right now.”
Once I added him, I hit the search on his friend list until I found Elizabeth Grant, or Liz as she was listed. Her profile picture showed nothing but a field of flowers. I hit Add Friend.
“Added you both.”
“Where’d you see Lizzy, anyway?” he asked, glancing toward a couple who’d settled onto stools at the end of the bar.
“I was over at the Skybar, and she was there with her friend, Chelsea.”
He dragged a rag across the bar. “I know a Chelsea. Works at the coffee shop just down the way. Friends with one of our bartenders here. Wild girls, those two. At least when they’re together.”
Probably a common enough name. “I forgot her last name.”
“Was it Abbott?”
That rang a bell. “Maybe.” I took a bite of toast and thought as I chewed. “Dark hair, sassy attitude, curvy as fuck.”
“Sounds like Chelsea Abbott.” He opened a jar of pearl onions and spooned some into a metal tin. “You’re sure she was with Lizzy? Because it sounds kind of like…”
“Yeah. She recalled me from high school.” I wasn’t about to share exactly how well we’d reconnected.
“Huh, okay. Funny. If that was Chelsea Abbott, I’m surprised you didn’t run into her sidekick. They’re usually inseparable.”
“Nope. Just the two of them.” I finished my food and pushed back the plate.
“How much longer you here for?”
I swallowed the rest of my coffee, wishing I had time for a refill. “I’m on my way out. I was only in town for a job interview.”
I stood and reached for my wallet, but he waved me away. “On the house, man.”
And that made me feel even worse since I probably earned more in a couple of hours than he made all day. But I knew how to take a kind gesture. “Thanks, man.” I stretched my hand out for a shake. “It was cool seeing you.”
He clasped mine tight. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.” I found I meant it.
With a spring in my step, I headed back to my hotel and packed everything up. My mind raced with the prospects before me: Baltimore, Ithaca, or Charlottesville. In Baltimore, the salary would be higher, and the larger market could launch me toward a big-time news organization, maybe even a national network.
But did I want that kind of pressure? I loved the science of meteorology, and I didn’t even mind being on camera, but I didn’t love total strangers approaching me like they knew me. That would only get worse in the big leagues.
