“Jason, hello,” she said when she picked up. “How’s the article coming?”
“I haven’t really gotten started on it yet,” he replied. “I’ve been soaking up the atmosphere.” The very hostile atmosphere . . .
“Can you pull something together quickly? Ted’s article . . . well, I can’t go into details, but we’ll just say, Ted’s been arrested, and we need to fill his space. I know you weren’t expecting a deadline for two more weeks, but this is an emergency.”
“Ted’s been arrested?”
He heard Marilyn’s sigh through the receiver. “We’ll talk about that later. Can you get me the article in forty-eight hours or not?”
Forty-eight hours? That was really pushing it, but if he saved Marilyn’s bacon, she was likely to remember it, and that meant better assignments in the future. “Yes, I can do it.”
“Oh, thank you. Honestly, you’re really helping me out of a bind. Check in with me tomorrow, all right? Let me know how it’s coming?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks, Jason. You’re the best.”
The line went dead, and Jason set the phone on the small dinette table in the corner of his trailer. In forty-eight hours, he’d be free to leave this place. That’s what he’d focus on—not on Addie, not on finishing up the research or finding the right words. Knowing he’d be leaving soon, he’d find all the motivation he’d need to get done quickly.
He opened his document and wrote about the drive up the mountain and the breathtaking quality of the view, then grabbed his phone and uploaded the pictures to his laptop. Yes, they should be good enough to include—he’d paid a bundle for a phone that could take high-quality pictures. That one of the mountain ranges stretching out for miles was particularly impressive.
And then up popped a picture of Addie. He’d forgotten taking it, or maybe his finger had slipped and it was an accident. Either way, there she was, standing against a background of snow-covered pines, laughing about something, and his heart lurched. He’d blown everything by jumping the gun. If he’d just waited, if he’d just said the right words or approached her differently or chosen a different setting . . .
He pushed out a breath and turned his attention back to his article. Things were really no different than they had been two days before. He’d rolled into town knowing Addie hated him, and she still hated him now. He’d neither gained nor lost anything.
Except another chunk of his heart, but that wasn’t anything new either.
***
“Can I help you, sir?”
Jason almost laughed aloud when he turned and saw the owner of the voice. He’d stopped in at the hardware store, and the man who greeted him now looked like the absolute stereotype of a person who should work at a hardware store, even down to the red flannel shirt. “Um, yes. I’m looking for a space heater.” His sleeping bag plus his two spare blankets had just barely been enough the night before. Of course, he’d also had a hard time sleeping because he’d been rehashing his conversation with Addie, but he didn’t think the hardware store carried anything that could help him with that.
“You bet. Right over here.”
The clerk showed Jason to the right aisle, then left him to make his selection while he helped a woman choose between twelve different shades of white for her dining room walls. All the space heaters looked the same to Jason, but then again, shades of white looked the same to him too. He likely wasn’t the most discerning person in the world.
When he walked up to the register carrying the heater he thought would work the best, he found himself accidentally eavesdropping on a conversation between the cashier and her customer.
“I’m not running the whole thing,” the woman was insisting. “I’m just helping with the dance.”
“Well, you should be running the whole thing, Betsy,” the cashier replied. “No one takes charge of an event like you do.”
“Thanks, but everything’s under control. Thanks for the rope—now we can hang the banner.” Betsy took her receipt and her bag and left.
“A rope to hang themselves with,” said the man right in front of Jason in line.
“Why, Topher, you take that back,” the cashier said. “You know this dance is going to be a lot of fun.”
“For people who’ve already got their Valentines, sure. But for single folks like me? I don’t expect to find true love there or anywhere, for that matter. They can talk all they want about it being a magical day, but we all know it’s a bunch of hooey.” He plunked a five-dollar bill on the counter. “This oughtta cover it.”
“Sure does. Try to keep a chin up, Topher. There are plenty of girls who like you. They’re just working up their nerve to say so.”
Topher shook his head, grumbled something as he gathered up his bag, and slouched out of the store like a bear interrupted in hibernation.
“And how about you, cutie?” the cashier said to Jason as he set the heater on the counter. “I bet you’re going to the dance.”
“I’m actually leaving town before then, but I hope you all have fun,” he replied.
“You’re leaving? Oh, that’s too bad. I was going to ask you for a waltz. Of course, my husband might have a problem with that, but he’d get over it.” She winked, and Jason had to smile. The woman was probably sixty, but she acted like a twenty-year-old, and it was pretty endearing. “Here you go. I hope you don’t want a sack—we do carry sacks that big, but they’re clear down on the bottom shelf, and I’d sure rather not have to bend all the way down there if I don’t have to.”
“It’s fine,” Jason told her. “I’m just going to set it up anyway, and the sack would go in the trash.”
“See? My laziness is actually helping the environment.”
For a second, she sounded so much like Addie that he blinked a few times to make sure Addie hadn’t actually just walked up to join the conversation. “Thanks, Tanya,” he said, glancing at her name tag. “I appreciate the help.”
“You’re welcome, cutie.”
Jason put the space heater in his truck, then turned and looked around. Where should he explore that day? His best bet would probably be to start off at the diner—diners were notorious for serving gossip as well as burgers and fries. He’d already been there, but he’d been with Addie, and he hadn’t spoken to the locals at all. Time to change that.
***
When Jason stepped into the diner, he was greeted by the same waitress they’d had before. She reminded him that her name was Sammi and handed him a menu.
“I’ll just take your special,” he said, nodding at the board, “but I do have a few questions.”
“About the food, or . . .?”
“No, about Quinn Valley. I’m a writer—”
“Yes, I’ve heard about you,” she said with a smile. “In fact, by now we’ve pretty much all heard about you.”
Great. That’s all he needed—the very people he was trying to interview knowing how badly he’d messed things up with Addie the night before. “So, what have you heard?” he asked casually.
“That you’re an award-winning journalist who’s come here to write a feature on our little town. We’ve had articles written on us before—I mean, people do travel here from all over the place—but we’ve never had a magazine as big as yours before.”
Jason blinked. The award he’d won was so small, he’d all but forgotten about it, and this was so far off from what he’d expected her to say that he wasn’t sure how to respond for a moment. “I’m not all that great,” he replied. “Just doing my job.”
“Well, we’re glad you’re here, and your meal’s on us. So order up—whatever you want.”
“Just the special,” he reminded her.
“Oh, come on. If someone told me they were buying my food, I’d order the most expensive thing on the menu.”
“Honestly, that’s really what I want. I’d order it even if it wasn’t the special.” He didn’t want to take advantage of these people’s generosity, and he w
as starting to feel like a phony. He was only here because Addie had written in. If she hadn’t, he didn’t think he would ever have come.
“All right.” She turned and called the order over her shoulder, then turned back to him. “Now, about those questions. What did you want to know?”
“Mostly your thoughts and feelings about living in Quinn Valley, but I’ve gotta be honest. I’m getting this . . . oh, I don’t know . . . Mayberry vibe. Maybe some Truman Show . . . everyone’s just so doggoned happy here. Don’t you have any dirt? A crooked politician with a bunch of dead bodies in his wake, a meth house, a prostitution ring—anything?”
She laughed. “Not that I know of. Does it disappoint you that we’re so law-abiding?”
“I’m not disappointed necessarily, but it does make my article pretty boring.”
“You’re looking for some kind of scandal so your article won’t be boring? That’s . . . that’s kind of sad, actually.” She crossed her arms and regarded him. “Why aren’t you concentrating on all the good stuff this place has to offer? Drugs and dead bodies aren’t the only interesting things in the world, you know.”
“They just tend to sell better.”
“That’s because people are so addicted to drama. It’s the whole car accident thing—you know how people slow down to stare at car accidents as they go by. We all have to know what’s happening in our neighbors’ lives and find ways to make it about us.” She paused, then chuckled. “Sorry. I have some strong feelings about that, as you can tell.”
“No, it’s all right. I get it.” Jason thought she’d hit the nail on the head—people liked making the events of other people’s lives about them. He’d noticed that himself. And it made him wonder—if people responded that way when hearing about others’ misfortunes, could he write an article about a quiet little town in such a way that the readers would respond to it similarly? Meaning, would they be inspired toward a more community feeling themselves?
He was so wrapped up in that thought that he almost didn’t notice when Sammi put his meal in front of him.
“Let me know if you need anything else,” she said.
“What? Oh, right. Thanks.”
If drama bred drama, would kindness breed kindness? Or was he buying into the whole Happy Valley mentality? He was on social media quite a bit for work and he’d seen his share of cat memes and whatnot, but he had no idea if those were powerful enough to combat all the political conflicts and hate crimes and bullying he saw on there. It was obvious that the signal for positivity needed to be raised, but that wasn’t the kind of journalism he’d pictured himself doing. He liked getting into the nitty gritty and uncovering the real truth. Writing about travel was a stepping stone to where he really wanted to be, which was investigative reporting, but this idea of uncovering good as opposed to uncovering evil had kind of taken over his brain.
“Is everything okay?” Sammi asked as she stopped by his table. “You haven’t really eaten anything.”
“I’m sorry—yes, it’s all really good. You just got me thinking with something you said, and my brain’s going about a million miles an hour.”
“Well, be sure to give me credit if you quote me,” she said with a grin. She refilled his coffee, then moved on, and he finally got around to eating his meal. His brain wasn’t used to darting around that fast—it was going to need fuel.
Chapter Five
The beauty of having a best friend was that there was always someone to tell you that you’d lost your bloomin’ mind when you needed it. Monique listened to Addie ramble on and on for over an hour, fed her chocolate ice cream, tucked her up with a cozy afghan on the couch, and then gave her one of those very Monique looks.
“You’re a mess,” she said bluntly. “An absolute mess. It’s a good thing you have me because people like you should not wander the earth alone.”
“I know,” Addie said miserably, scooting down farther into her blanket. “I can’t believe any of it—what he said, what I said, how I reacted. Oh, my gosh, Mo. I actually stomped off like a little child. Who does that? Especially in the winter when the temperature’s dropping? I could have ended up on the news, and not in a good way.”
“I’m just glad you had enough sense to call me. Someone in this situation needed to be thinking clearly, and it’s obvious that neither you nor Jason were capable of it.”
Jason. Addie didn’t want to think about Jason. She sort of had to, though, because she had to sort through the problem—she couldn’t just ignore it until it went away, even though that sounded heavenly.
“Okay, so, I need to approach this rationally. What’s really going on here?” She sat up a little, deciding it was time to stop being silly and to get a handle on this. “My old boyfriend came to town and told me that he’s still in love with me. He would like to give our relationship another try. Did he have a concrete plan for this? No. He didn’t offer to move here or ask me to go on the road with him. I don’t think he’s thought this through. Be that as it may, he has presented me with the idea of getting back together.”
“Which scares you so badly that you got out of his car and started walking,” Mo said. “Why are you so scared?”
“Now there’s the question. Was I scared, or was I angry? At the time, I felt angry and confused. Now I’m mostly confused—but still some angry.”
“And yet you’re also scared.” Mo lifted a finger when Addie started to protest. “I’ve been listening to you for the last hour, and what I’m hearing is fear smothered in all those other emotions. Let the fear rise to the surface like flotsam in the ocean. Look at it and see what it wants to say.”
“First of all, flotsam’s kind of gross,” Addie said. “It’s usually covered in algae and all kinds of other slimy things.”
“And fear’s gross too. It’s a valid analogy.” Mo shifted her weight and made herself more comfortable on the couch. “Work with me here. What are you scared of?”
Addie forced herself to think about it. “I’m scared of getting hurt again,” she replied. “I’m scared that I’d be putting my trust in something that I already know isn’t trustworthy. And I’m scared that he doesn’t really mean it.”
“So, you want him to mean it?”
“I don’t know! Why are you asking me so many hard questions? You work at the post office—you’re not a therapist!”
“I’m not a therapist, but until you get your hands on your own Master Shifu, I’m the best you’ve got. Now, do you want Jason to mean it when he says he’s still in love with you?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure I want it for the right reasons.” This telling the truth thing was hard. And uncomfortable. And Addie wasn’t sure it was helping. Sometimes it was much nicer to tuck all that truthful stuff away and not look at it.
“Why do you want it?”
“Because then I could turn him down and make him feel bad and take my revenge.”
Monique shook her head. “You’re not the revenge-taking sort. I can’t picture it.”
“You’re right. It would last about three seconds and then I’d be apologizing and feeling guilty. I’m a mess, Monique! Fix me!”
Mo held up both hands. “Just calm down. What do you actually want? Do you want Jason back, or don’t you?”
“I miss what we had together. I miss just sitting and laughing with him or taking long walks or joking around when we worked the same shifts. It was amazing to have someone in my life who understood me so well. But then it turned out that he didn’t understand me at all—he wouldn’t let me explain why I wanted to buy my shop, or any of my other dreams, actually. I want the real version of what I thought we had. Does that make sense?”
Mo nodded. “It makes perfect sense. You just want what you thought you already had. You feel cheated.”
“Yes, I do. That’s a very good way to sum it up. And so I feel like he owes me something, but getting back into a relationship isn’t the way to go about it. I’d be expecting him to make it up to me, but if he couldn�
�t give me what I wanted the first time, how could he give it to me now? Has he really had some kind of transformation where he’s suddenly able to read my mind and conjure up the answers to all my questions? I don’t think so.”
“And there’s your answer.” Monique gave a nod. “In order for Jason to be an equal partner in a healthy relationship, he would need to have some fundamental realizations, which you don’t believe he’s had. Therefore, getting involved with him again wouldn’t be good for you. Problem solved.”
“There remains one question,” Addie said. “Why did I stomp away from him like a child?”
“Because you’re a mess,” Monique answered, and Addie nodded. That was likely the closest answer to the truth.
***
Addie finished her inventory and put away the new shipments. She had three large groups of tourists come in and buy over five hundred dollars of merchandise in under fifteen minutes, and that definitely made her happy. She was feeling happy, productive, and successful, but then Jason walked in and she felt embarrassed, annoyed, and flustered.
She reminded herself that she didn’t have to feel that way and pasted on a smile. “Hello.”
“Hello. I just wanted to check and make sure that you were okay after last night. We didn’t end things well.”
“No, we didn’t, but my friend fed me chocolate ice cream, and that, as we know, cures all ills.”
He nodded. “So, are we good?”
She blinked a few times. “That’s actually a pretty deep question. Do you want a deep answer, or are you hoping for some flippant little ‘no worries’ or something like that?”
He leaned on the counter, and she could feel the weight of his gaze. “I want to know what you’re thinking.”
She put down the dust rag she’d been using and turned to face him. “On the surface, yes, we’re fine because I’m not going to argue with you anymore. I’m going to treat you with oodles of civility and the best sort of hospitality Quinn Valley has to offer. On a deeper level, no, we’re not all right. We have fundamental relationship problems that seep down into the magma of our souls. But since we aren’t in a relationship anymore, it’s not necessary for us to bring all that to the surface, so yes, we’re fine.”
Addie's Adventurer Page 5
