Page 22 of Autumn on My Mind

I hum, a grim sound, but before I’ve decided if I want to ask further questions, they add some more.

“Now you know who else has been flirting up a storm lately?” Edna Bloomberg says. “The mayor.” She nudges Edna Gilbert and wiggles her dark eyebrows.

I blink at them. “Mayor Monroe?”

“Of course,” Edna Gilbert says, adjusting her glasses as they slip down her nose. “He’s the only mayor we’ve got, isn’t he?”

“We’ve been keeping an eye on him,” Edna Bloomberg says. “Because he’s a real catch, and he’s finally got some ladies surrounding him.”

Edna Gilbert nods. “There’s a nice nurse he always chats with⁠—”

“And Lisa, his secretary—lots of late nights, and she’s divorced⁠—”

“And he buys lots of candles from Genevieve at the candle shop, too,” Edna finishes, her voice authoritative. “No one needs so many candles.”

“Maybe he just likes candles,” I say.

The Ednas look less than impressed at my suggestion. “Well, thank you ladies,” I say with a sigh. “This has been very illuminating.”

Sad, but illuminating.

“Thank you for the donut, dear. We’re always happy to share what we know.”

“I know,” I say, and I can’t help my little smile at this understatement. Then, with a wave, I head out of the bakery. The trees lining Main are bright with reds and oranges and golds, but I don’t stop to admire the colors; I hook a right, down the little alley, and around to the back of the strip of shops. The rear door to my family’s shop is unlocked, so I let myself in.

I emerge in the cluttered, dusty storeroom. It smells like rubber and metal here, a scent so familiar that I’m reminded of home.

Not the home of my house, but the home of my heart. The loving family, the afternoons helping here after school—a past that glows in my memory.

Sometimes I wonder if my glasses have always been rose-tinted, and I just never knew.

I startle out of my thoughts when the door to the main shop opens and Nathan hurries in.

“Whoa,” he says, jumping as much as I do. “Geez, Reese. Give me some warning.” He frowns and begins digging through a box on the shelf nearest the door, speaking over his shoulder. “Why are you here?”

The words that come out of my mouth are not the words I planned to say. “Do you think Alvina and Dad had a good marriage?”

Nathan’s hands freeze, probably taken aback by my question. “Where did that come from?” he says a second later, and he begins digging again.

“I don’t know,” I say, settling on a sturdy box and opening the bag of donuts. The words used by the Ednas continue to whirl too—undertow. Quicksand. Things that suck you in and don’t let you escape. “I see her now, and it’s hard not to—” I swallow and push the words out. “It’s hard not to wonder.”

Nathan sighs, turning away from the box he’s digging through and scrubbing his hand over his short, dark hair. “I don’t know. I don’t really think about it.”

“I know.”

“But I do think she was different when Dad was around.” He strolls toward me, weaving through the boxes and pointing at the maple bar I’ve just started eating.

By “started eating,” I mean I’m shoving it in my mouth with almost indecent fervor.

“Do I get one of those?” he says, his serious expression lifting into something more playful.

“No,” I say with a sniff. “You’re dead to me. Remember?”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry. But also”—I shift my eyes away from his and study my donut in great detail—“someone promised to come help me with the boxes, and she didn’t do that, did she?”

“She was very busy and emotionally distraught.”

Nathan snorts and picks up the paper bag next to me, peering inside. “Distraught?”