Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79621 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 398(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
I stood there, staring at the small family—the two dads and the little blond boy they held between them. The casual public displays of same-sex affection didn’t faze me anymore. Maybe it was a Vermont thing, or maybe it was Elmwood. Either way, inclusivity was the refreshing norm.
No, what got me was the family element.
Two people who loved each other had a kid. It was a simple story and one I’d really wanted to be mine. I wasn’t surprised by the sharp stab of longing. It still happened more often than I wanted to admit.
This time, I didn’t fight the feeling. I let it be what it was…sadness. It was okay to be sad. It was okay to mourn what never was.
But if things had gone differently, I wouldn’t be here, standing on Main Street in a little town in a forest in Vermont, grappling with an inkling of purpose. I couldn’t say how or why, but I knew I was supposed to be here. And damn, that was so much better than feeling as though the best parts of life had passed me by.
No, I had more in me. Much more.
I waved at Vinnie and Nolan, crossed at the corner of Main Street and Blossom, and made a beeline for Henderson’s Bakery.
“Good afternoon, how can I—oh! Hello, Smitty. How are you?”
I greeted Court’s mom, Penny Henderson, with a friendly nod. “Pretty good.”
“I’m glad to hear that. The weather has been divine lately, hasn’t it? The leaves are already turning orange and red—”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Penny. The man didn’t come in to talk about the damn weather,” a cantankerous smoke-graveled voice piped in.
I bit my lip to keep a smile in check. I couldn’t help it. There was something about the tiny eightysomething spitfire that cracked me up.
“Annie…” Penny warned through clenched teeth before facing me with a pained expression. “What can I get for you?”
“A loaf of olive bread, please.”
“Coming right up,” Penny said.
I glanced over at Crabby Annie and inclined my chin. “I was actually hoping to run into you.”
The old woman rolled her eyes and fussed with the button on her blue cardigan as she toddled to the front door. “I knew it. I’ll be outside having a smoke by the fountain. Can’t light up anywhere you want anymore. The world is going to hell in a damn handbag, so who cares about a little cigarette smoke? Don’t worry, Pen. I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”
“She’s a live wire,” I commented with a laugh as the bell over the door chimed after Annie.
“That’s one word for her. I adore Annie, but she’s a handful. Can I get you anything else?”
“Whatever Annie likes to drink, please.”
Penny chuckled. “Scotch on the rocks. Or…lemon tea. Let me get that for you.”
I paid for the olive bread and tea and met Annie at a bench near the fountain in front of Town Hall, a stately brick building flanked by elm trees and old-fashioned lamplights.
“For you.”
She shot a suspicious glance my way before nodding her thanks. “You don’t have to butter me up with tea. I’ll talk to you, but I got nothing new. Denny is a quiet kid, and that’s just how some people are. I let him do his thing, and I try to stay out of his way. Sixteen-year-olds don’t need their grandmas hangin’ around like moldy cheese.”
Yeah, this wasn’t the first time I’d asked Annie for a little insight into how to reach her grandson. Once a week, I tried to shake something new out of her. Anything.
“Well, here’s the thing…I need his help. Denny’s the best player I’ve got, but you can’t play on a team and be an island. I want to get him out of his shell. It’s a tall order, but I still think he’d make a good captain.”
“So you want him to do part of your job for you,” she teased with a cackle.
“No, but—”
“I’m teasin’ you. Don’t be a tightass, eh?” Annie took a drag from her cigarette and coughed. “I should quit smokin’. Don’t tell Penny I said so, ’cause she’ll never let me hear the end of it.”
“I won’t say a word.”
She puffed away, humming as she shifted on the bench. “Listen up, Coach. I’ve lost two sons and a husband. My daughter lives in Canada, and I don’t see the rest of my grandkids very often. So it’s me and Denny, and in the wisdom of my old age, the one thing I’ve learned is that you gotta let people be who they are.”
“That’s good advice.”
“Hmm. Anything else you want to talk about?”
“Yeah. What would you think about coming to some of our scrimmages?”
Annie widened her eyes comically. “Me? Denny wouldn’t want me there.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not fun, I’m not interesting, I don’t know what’s cool anymore. I’m just a grandma.”
“You’re the person who showed up and stayed,” I corrected.