Page 41 of Hearts on the Line

I’m left with the small reminders of him. All inconvenient and annoying. Like the way the sun bent and broke around him when he grinned at me. That same uncomfortable feeling in my chest blooms at the memory. It’s achingly familiar.

“Does Ethan have you working here, too, dear?”

The soft voice cuts through my daydreaming as I wrap utensils. The restaurant is closed on Mondays, but I snuck down and kept myself busy preparing for another week ahead. I can be just as stubborn as Ethan, and I can’t pretend I don’t see him trying to juggle everything for everyone.

That still doesn’t explain why Bridget Murphy is grinning at me through the screen door from the sidewalk outside. I washed the carpet earlier and am trying my damnedest to dry everything up before I spend the afternoon at the beach.

“It’s so good to see you, Mrs. Murphy.”

“I heard you were back.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m sure you have.” I get up and unlock the door, letting her inside.

As soon as I do, she draws me in for a big hug. Her gray hair is still cut short in the perfect imitation of Audrey Hepburn, just like when I first met her. I tower over her at almost five feet ten inches.

She pushes back, her blue eyes full of mischief. “Let me look at you. Oh, I’m so happy to see you again.”

“It’s just a quick trip,” I say. But even I’m not sure anymore. There’s something comforting about being busy at the restaurant. And the pull of one more summer at Merritt Point while I get my life together is more tempting than I first thought.

“Bridget!” another voice calls from outside.

That’s when I see them, the granny posse outside with their shopping bags. Someone is on a scooter, another is mumbling to herself as she struggles with the clasp on her bag.

“Come in, girls. Look who I found!”

“Oh, wait,” I say. “We’re not open, I was just helping…” My voice trails off as they flock inside.

“Sloane Arden, look at you! More beautiful than ever. So good to see you, honey.”

My attention ping-pongs between everyone, and I stretch on a smile, completely unprepared for the barrage of inquiries heading my way.

“Well,” Bridget says, “I’m glad I ran into you because on Mondays we have a fancy dinner and I’d love for you to come.”

“That’s right,” pipes up the woman on the scooter. It takes me a second to place her—June Harrington. “Merritt Point Supper Club. The most exclusive invite-only supper club around.”

The woman next to her, Gloria, used to be a correspondent at the paper when I was in high school. She smiles slyly. “What a great idea. Come on, Sloane, what do you say?”

“To what?”

“Dinner, silly.” Bridget peeks at her friends. “Come to our supper club. We would love to hear everything you’ve been up to.”

No doubt.

“Do I need to bring anything?” I find myself laughing, terrified of the kind, inquiring eyes glued to me. It’s been a while, but everyone knows you can’t trust the small-town granny posse. “Where is it? Dinner sounds great, but my car is still at the garage.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Bridget grabs my hand and gives it a pat. “Just be ready at half past four, and Gloria will pick you up. We like to eat early.”

Wally and Ethan are gone when I return from the beach and change for dinner. Gloria is waiting at the curb in an old gold Buick, wiggling her fingers at me in a friendly wave. Still, I feel as if I’m about to enter the lion’s den.

My feelings are validated ten minutes in when we turn onto a familiar road.

“Where is the supper club exactly?” I ask, peeking out at the houses. I can name each family who lived there once, and it’s weird to think about where they all are now. The Millers with their yappy terrier, the Henderson kid who could beat anyone in town at chess before he hit third grade.

“Almost there,” Gloria says, avoiding my question.

“Gloria.”

“It’s at Bridget’s house. She moved after Jack passed away a few years ago.”