Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Oh. I just cussed. At Billy.
“It was a road trip thing,” I confess, my voice losing all speed, losing all trace of defensiveness, barricades collapsing. “I planned a month-and-a-half-long trip with my bestie on campus. And he … kinda went without me. Sorta. To pursue a girl. It’s complicated.”
“That sounds crummy for a so-called bestie to do to you.”
“Oh, he’s still a good guy, I don’t blame him.” I realize my grip on the spoons tightened. I set them down on the pile of others to avoid strangling them to death. They did nothing wrong, after all. “It was his chance to get his girl, y’know? How could I get in the way of true love … with my selfish desire to explore some caves …? Or see Zombie Marilyn Monroe? Or …” I shrug the rest of it away and smile at Billy. “I’m happy to be home. It was meant to be.”
Billy scratches the side of his nose with one finger, then drops his hand and shakes his head. “Still sorry that happened, Teej. It sounds to me like you were on your way to having one exciting time ‘til this bestie of yours went and tossed it in the trash.”
I fight an instinct, yet again, to defend AJ. Then I just smile at Billy instead. “I can have an exciting summer here in Spruce, too.”
He nods back, still appearing in thought. “You’re right.” After collecting the pile of teeny spoons, he takes them to the trash and dumps them before returning to behind the counter. “And y’know what else?” he asks, facing the back wall where he runs a finger over the calendar. “Ever notice how people who run away from Spruce always come to miss it?”
I’m left staring at that trash bin, still thinking of his analogy about AJ throwing my plans away. “Ever notice how people who stay here never get out?” I quietly mumble back.
Billy turns away from the calendar. “Sorry, what was that?”
“Nothing.” I smile. “Still got my spare apron in the back? My mom cleaned out my room and … I couldn’t seem to locate it.”
“I’ve got you,” he insists, then frowns, “assuming my husband didn’t stuff it in a box someplace when he stopped in to help last week. He means well, but sometimes when he ‘helps’, everything gets put someplace else, and I can’t find my foot under my own leg.” After half a breath, his face collapses into a smile. “God, I love that man.” He chuckles. “Anyway, I’ll get you that apron one way or another.” Then he heads into the office, flicking on the light.
I get my apron. A sign is flipped.
Customers start entering. Slow at first. Then I’m scooping ice cream one after the other. Smiling at familiar faces. Greeting my old history teacher and sharing a story from campus. High-fiving two pals I grew up with who stuck around and now work (together) at the Strong ranch. I’m graced by Mr. Lemon, general manager at Spruce Cinema 5, who’s come early for his late-night treat since he won’t have time to get it later. Local barber Cale orders chocolate muffins and says I look due for a trim. Martha Huntington and her friend Ms. Hubert tell me how much I’ve grown since last year, though I swear they just saw me over winter break. Frankie and Tamika—who are totally, seriously not dating—come by together to sit at the booth by the window and share a Football Sundae, which I heard was taken off the menu for a minute, but is now proudly back on and served with pride (and extra cherries when Billy’s not looking, even though he totally knows, apparently).
Billy thanks me a truckload of times, since he was planning on opening the store by himself until his afternoon help came in but didn’t anticipate such a rush. By the time his said afternoon help arrives, I’m halfway through serving six church ladies their “post-book-club sweet treats”, one of whom is sneakily trying to set me up with her granddaughter, and am relieved from my duties.
It’s only then I check the time—and realize I lost track of it. “I gotta go,” I quickly tell Billy, barely having time to listen to him thank me (again) before I’m out the door and hurrying down the block back to my car. It’s only a few hours since I drove in, and the town has come to life. I dodge a noisy trio of children on bikes (where the heck’s their parents?) and gotta stop at the crosswalk for what looks like some off-brand moving-company truck (who’s moving in or out? I’ll have to ask around) before I finally reach my car. I notice a familiar truck parked next to it, and just as I reach for my door handle, out pops Bobby Parker’s head. “Hi there, TJ! Just heard from Billy you’re back in town!”