“A baby gift,” I explain. This is not the time to bring upPepper’s mother.
“Tobias is my third favorite stuffie. I almost brought him on this trip.”
“And who’s your favorite?” asks Elinor.
“Brutus the Attack Bunny. He’s at the cottage.”
“Ah, keeping things safe, I’m sure,” says Elinor with a smile.
“Yep!” She turns to her dad. “She understands.”
“How long are you staying here?” Elinor asks.
“A month,” Brandon answers.
“Wonderful,” Elinor exclaims with real delight. I feel a spasm of jealousy. Which is ridiculous—she doesn’t date tourists, and Brandon famously hasn’t dated since his wife’s accident. I suppose I’m envious of anyone who gets to be near Elinor. I’m already thinking of excuses to come back next week.
“Are you writing a book?” she asks Pepper.
The little girl looks at Elinor as if she has two heads. “I’mnine! Far too young to be writing a book. I need to live a little before I write anything. For now, I’m gathering material.”
“That makes a lot of sense,” Elinor answers with a straight face, but her eyes spark with amusement. She looks up at me, and a smile passes between us. Then she seems to catch herself, her expression tightening as she turns away to another table.
“How long are you here for?” Brandon asks.
“I’m driving back to the city this afternoon. But I think I’ll be back next week for business.”
Brandon’s eyes flick to Elinor busily taking orders from a table of backpackers. “Business,” he repeats with meaning.
“I like her,” says Pepper.
Me too,I think.Me too.
***
I glance at my watch; it’s almostten. Elinor’s shift will be oversoon. I’m waiting for her in the shaded common area just outside the cafe.
Taking a seat at one of the picnic tables, I get the uncomfortable feeling of being the new kid on the first day of school with no one to sit by at lunch. I don’t like how much I stick out. I purposely dressed down—no suit today—but somehow my chinos, button-down shirt, and leather boots still feel a little fussy.
I envy how easily Brandon fits in. He’s always been better at slipping under the radar. Most people wouldn’t guess he comes from money.
When my mom learned that I was friends with the son of Howard and Wendy James, she immediately asked if he had a sister I could marry. She was disappointed to discover he’s an only child.
I have no idea where my mom got this idea that I should marry into an “important” family. I suspect that growing up she never quite fit in with the old money crowd, and it tickled her to no end when I started making friends with the children of the kids who rejected her. What she has never understood is that while I excel at superficial friendships, I’m not that good at having close friends. I never wanted to invite friends from school over for dinner or to join us on vacation like she wanted. I’m friendly with a lot of people but only friends with a handful.
“Mind if I sit here?” asks a woman with white wispy hair and bright blue eyes.
“No, not at all.”
“I’m headed out on a three-day backpacking trip,” she explains as she sets her backpack on the table and begins to unload her gear.
“Sounds exciting?” I say, unconvinced.
“Oh it is! I look forward to this trip all year. I always camp the night before and after at Norland Park.”
“You must really like this place.”
“Yes—don’t you?” She clocks my shiny boots. “Or is this your first time staying here?”
