But she also felt a flicker of hope in her chest for herself. Her whole life had fallen apart in the last few months, and this was her chance. To distract herself. To brush herself off and get back in the game. Whatever you wanted to call it.
Ginny threw on jeans, swept her hair up in a quick ponytail, and grabbed her laptop. The Feldman Agency was closed on Sundays, outside of appointments to show properties, so no one would be seeing her. On her way over, she began crafting her pitch. All she knew of this out-of-town relative now in charge of White Pines was her name and that she’d flown in from London. As such, Ginny figured it was fair to assume she wouldn’t know Saybrook or the market as well as a local. She’d probably also want to secure a quick sale and wipe her hands of it. The first thing Ginny would do was look up Candace Lancaster and try to put together a profile. The next thing she’d need to do was learn all she could about White Pines. She didn’t have much time.
She’d been at the office for three hours when she couldn’t ignore the growling in her stomach anymore. Nina had been right: she needed more in her fridge. Ginny glanced at the messy desk in front of her. Thanks to what she could glean from Google and town property records, she’d already filled several pages of notesabout both the seller and the property. Candace Lancaster was a wealth management consultant for a private outfit in London, and her net worth was nothing to sneeze at. Ginny would have to bring her best game. As far as White Pines went, she had no idea what Candace would be asking, but in the case of Connecticut real estate, the sum of the parts was often more valuable than the whole, and if Candace wanted to subdivide, Ginny would need to see surveys and maps of the proposed division to properly assess the lots and come up with a final figure. There was still much to do, but she was starving.
The Feldman Agency was smack dab in the village center, bookended by the hardware store and the post office and directly across the street from Audrey’s Café. Ginny glanced over there now, longingly. She hadn’t exactly been eating well or taking great care of herself lately; a salad was what she needed, but a sandwich was what she wanted. As she slung her bag over her shoulder, she wondered if they still made that mouthwatering Reuben she and her dad used to split.
The second she walked through the door, Audrey spied her. “Wow! I heard you were coming back, but I didn’t believe it.” Audrey had been Ginny’s childhood friend’s older sister. Alice had moved to New York, but Audrey had stayed on and opened a family business with her husband. Now, she pulled off her apron and hurried around from behind the counter to give her a big hug.
“Back for the summer,” Ginny said, aware that others in line for lunch were watching them curiously. “You look great!” Audrey was only four years older but had been Ginny’s idol when they were growing up. She was the big sister Ginny never had, the one who taught her how to apply mascara, the first one to play spin the bottle, the one whose training bra Alice and Ginny had secretly tried on in a fit of giggles when they snooped inher closet. Now, though she looked no different than Ginny, the chasm between them remained: Audrey was a happily married woman with two kids and a successful business. Who, despite all that, managed to look fit, put together, and happy. “I have to confess, I’m here for the Reuben. Please tell me it’s still on the menu.”
Audrey laughed. “It is, but even if it weren’t, I’d make you one.” She went back around the counter and sent Ginny’s order to the kitchen with a cute teenager in a matching striped apron. “I was so sorry to hear about your dad,” she said quietly.
“Thanks. He’s doing really well, thankfully. But I’m trying to help out with the business.”
“Yeah, three realtors in one small town is tough. But your folks are the best. I’m sure you’ll help them keep it going.”
Ginny smiled tightly. So the word was apparently out that Feldman Agency was struggling. And that she was the one swooping in to help. Hopefully.
She thanked Audrey and stepped aside for the growing line while she waited for her order. She had a few new texts: two from work friends in Chicago, asking how she was settling in. And one from Thomas. Her heart caught in her chest. Despite the fact that she really did not miss Thomas, being alone all of a sudden was hard. A few times since arriving, she’d almost thought of calling him. She opened his message, wondering if he felt the same. “Forgot to ask if you have my stone mortar and pestle? I can’t find it anywhere in the boxes I’ve unpacked.”
Ginny scowled. Leave it to Thomas to inquire about his stupid mortar and pestle. This was something she did not miss about Thomas. His fussiness for routine, from making homemade guacamole every single Friday night after work to taking inventory of his kitchen tools mere days after she’d left. No, she had not lugged that heavy thing all the way home to Connecticut. And she doubtedshe’d tell him if she had. Clearly, Thomas was doing just fine, mortar aside. She was stuffing her phone back irritably back in her bag when someone called out her order: “Reuben sandwich.”
“Here!” Ginny said, waving her hand. She stepped forward just as a guy behind her did so and said, “That’s me!” at the same time.
Ginny turned at the same moment he did. It was Wendell Combs.
His eyes widened. “Ginny?” He looked as surprised as she felt.
“Wendell. Wow, good to see you.”
The girl at the cash register held the takeout bag between them in confusion. “So, whose sandwich is this?”
Ginny could feel herself flush, and she cursed silently. In a town the size of Saybrook, she should not have been surprised to run into Wendell at some point. But today? She pushed her hair back. And looking like this?
Wendell answered first. “She can have that one. I’ll wait.” Then to her, “I see your taste buds haven’t changed.”
Flustered, Ginny glanced between him and the girl at the register. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you back there. Please, take the sandwich. You were here first.”
“No, no. It’s all yours.” He looked her in the eye for the first time and smiled shyly. “I remember how you get when you’re hungry.”
“Right.” Ginny smiled and thrust a wad of bills at the cashier. “Keep it,” she told the girl when she started to count them out.
“But it’s ten dollars, too much—”
“A tip!” Ginny said, grabbing the sandwich from the counter. She turned back to Wendell. Why was he staring at her like that? She glanced at the line behind her. Why was she blushing? “I should get out of the way.”
“Your sandwich will be another minute,” the girl told Wendell.
Wendell didn’t seem to mind. He turned to Ginny. “Since you stole my sandwich, how about you wait with me a minute?”
“You insisted I take it!” she argued playfully, but she was happy for the excuse to follow him to doorway where it was quieter. Suddenly she wanted very much to catch up with Wendell Combs.
“I didn’t know you were back. Are you visiting your folks?”
Ginny was surprised he hadn’t heard. “My father—he had a heart attack a couple weeks ago. He’s doing fine, but I wanted to come home and help out.” She did not add that she had lost her job and her fiancé. She wondered if Wendell even knew she’d had a fiancé.
“I’m really sorry to hear that, Ginny.” Wendell jammed his hands in his jeans pockets. “I’ve always liked your father. He’s a good man.”
