Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68864 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 344(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 230(@300wpm)
“You keep starin’ at that suitcase like it’s got the answers,” she says, not looking away from the local news, which is winding up.
“Maybe it does,” I mumble, pacing the small stretch of floor between the sofa and the front window.
“What’s that?” she crows, pretending to be hard of hearing.
I shoot her a subtle glare. “Nothing.”
“Don’t nothing me,” she retorts. “What’s the suitcase sayin’ to you?”
Breathing a frustrated huff, I wave my hands. “Maybe it’s saying, ‘Don’t do this, Penny. Stay right here in Whynot.’”
Muriel gives me a look over the rim of her glasses. “I told you, I’m fine. I’ve got Betsy, Connie and Reba all splitting the duties you were handling for me. I’m fully able to spend time at the restaurant and run things otherwise. It’s time for you to go. You have a shiny new promotion waiting in DC, and even if this has turned into a tragedy because you caught the feelings, you know you’re destined for bigger than Whynot.”
I flop down on the sofa adjacent to her chair. “Caught feelings?”
“Caught the feelings,” she repeats. “With Sam. You caught the feelings and it’s holding you back. A nasty bug, really.”
“It’s not a cold,” I mutter.
“No,” she says mildly. “But you’re actin’ like you might die from it.”
I sigh and glance around the living room. “I just worry about the café. You’re still getting your strength back, and—”
She waves a hand. “I’ve got it handled. You trained Connie to do inventory and ordering, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, but—”
“And I hired young Billy Turner to haul deliveries and change light bulbs so I don’t have to climb a ladder and break another hip. The vendors are set, the books are balanced, and if the fryer breaks again, Floyd’ll come fix it for a slice of pie. Quit tryin’ to make excuses for why you don’t wanna go.”
“I’m not making excuses,” I argue, even though the heat in my face says otherwise.
Muriel tilts her head. “Aren’t you?”
I bite my lip, staring at the patterned rug. The truth sits heavy in my chest. “I just… I’m happy here. Happier in a way I didn’t know I ever needed. I know this job is important, but what if I go back and realize I left something that mattered more?”
Her tone softens. “You mean someone. Call it what it is. You’re in love and you don’t want to leave because of that.”
I blink at her in surprise. “I never told you that.”
“Didn’t have to,” she says simply. “I may be old, but I’m not blind. You’re not worried about me or that café, Penny Pritchard. You’re scared to leave that man you love.”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. It’s such a clean, unflinching truth that arguing feels pointless. I sink back into the couch, voice quiet. “I didn’t plan on this.”
“Nobody ever does. Love’s like humidity—you don’t notice it till it’s already in your hair.”
That gets a laugh out of me, even as I feel the tears burn. “I do love him,” I admit. “Completely. Stupidly. It’s like my heart grew new roots without asking permission.”
Muriel leans forward, her expression warm but sharp. “You tell him yet?”
I shake my head. “No. I didn’t want to make it harder.”
“Honey,” she says, “you sayin’ it doesn’t make it harder. It makes it honest. You don’t wanna get on that plane tomorrow with a mouth full of words you never said. That’s the kind of silence that’ll haunt you and the regret you’ll never recover from.”
I swallow. “It won’t change anything. I’m still leaving and Sam’s still staying.”
She shrugs. “Then at least you both know the truth. Love’s the best foundation you can build a future on, no matter what shape it ends up takin’.”
That’s the thing about Muriel—she doesn’t give me fairy tales, just solid ground. I glance at my watch, then to her. “You sure you’re okay if I stay at Sam’s tonight? I’ll head straight from there to the airport in the morning.”
“Would you rather watch Jeopardy with me or hang with your honey?” she asks with a sly grin.
“You, of course.” I stand up from the couch and move to the side of her recliner. “I’d rather stay here and watch Jeopardy with you.”
“Liar,” she grumbles as I bend down to hug her, inhaling her perfume and feeling the soft strands of her gray curls against my cheek.
“I’ll miss you,” I whisper.
“’Course you will,” she says, patting my back. “But that’s the price of having good people in your life—you miss ’em when you go.”
I pull away with a watery smile. “You sure you’ll be okay?”
She grins. “I’ve survived worse than running a café without you. Now go. You’ve got a handsome man waitin’ to see if you’ll show up before your carriage turns into a pumpkin.”
♦
It’s full dark by the time I pull up outside Sam’s house. The porch light glows golden against the encroaching night, and the air prickles my skin. My rental car ticks as it cools, the engine’s quiet pinging matching the rhythm of my nerves.