Forever Friends

by Sarah Mackenzie

  “What? Why? Nothing. Everything’s fine.” Bree walked into her kitchen, filling the kettle with tap water and setting it on the stove. She pulled a carton of half-and-half out of the fridge, sniffed, and then poured it down the sink. “Hope you weren’t set on cream though I think I can manage sugar.”

  Renee narrowed her eyes. Her sister radar detected trouble, but what?

  “Rooibos or black tea?”

  Renee nodded toward the Lipton.

  “Quit staring.” Bree spun on her heel and began stacking papers on the kitchen table.

  Renee leaned against the island and examined a pile of cowls in cherry-blossom pink, persimmon, and sky-blue yarn that Bree must have recently finished up. “You took terrible.”

  “Did you come over to visit or pass judgment?” Bree wouldn’t meet her eyes. “What’s up?” Bree had a point.

  “I almost made out with my boss,” Renee announced dramatically, having to keep herself from shrieking like a lovesick teenager.

  She stared at her sister, waiting for an awed or shocked reaction.

  “Dr. Dan?” Bree raised a brow. “What the heck does ‘almost made out’ mean?”

  Maybe Renee hadn’t set the story up well—Tansy had always been the storyteller, not her. She was better at playing the part of the captive audience.

  “Well, I ran into him walking on the beach. Technically Sadie and I did. We were with her toddler, Lincoln. You remember Sadie, right?”

  Bree nodded, looking impatient.

  “You would have been so proud of me. I asked him to come over, and he agreed. I served him a plate of my strawberry pie, and then we played Scrabble. I reached for a dictionary at the same time he did, and he grabbed my hand. I started to move toward him. He started to move toward me. But Tansy called at that exact second!”

  Renee widened her eyes and waited for her sister to burst into laughter or perhaps squee. But Bree did neither.

  “O-kay?” She sounded slightly exasperated. “So you almost kissed him. In that case, I almost kissed Brad Pitt that one time I ran into him at an airport ten years ago.”

  Renee blushed, looking down at her lap and suddenly feeling more like a thirteen-year-old girl than a forty-three-year-old woman. What was she going to swoon about next? Dan giving her his letterman jacket or asking her to the big school dance?

  “I’m not trying to be mean, but if you really like him, quit doing things halfway. Stop almost kissing him and actually making your feelings known.” Bree poured their mugs of tea. “Believe me, life’s too short. You’re forty-something not four hundred. This is your sexual prime. Get after it.”

  “The man is my boss.” Renee stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea, the silver clattering against the ceramic. “I have to tread lightly here.”

  Bree looked at her with such pity, Renee felt her skin crawl. “You’ve been treading lightly for twelve years now.”

  There it was, the unspoken words she’d sensed flowing right under the surface were cresting. Her lungs filled. Taking a full breath was an impossible idea. It was one thing to know, vaguely, in the back of your mind that you were stuck. It was another thing to be unexpectedly doused in the face by the cold truth.

  “Seriously?” She scooted away from the table and headed for the front door, needing an escape hatch, to hit the fresh air, to be able to breathe. “Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? I don’t recall you exactly setting the town on fire since Ian broke off your engagement.”

  The only sound was the scratching of her mother’s favorite lilac bush against the window pane.

  Renee rubbed the bridge of her nose. Shit. She didn’t mean to fight dirty. “Bree—”

  “Did you really just throw Ian in my face? Nice. That’s great. Real mature.”

  Ian had been Bree’s boyfriend starting in high school. Comfortable, predictable Ian Doring was an accountant who was about as exciting as a glass of water. Still, her sister had seemed…content with the relationship. Accepting.

  Or was it resigned?

  Privately, Renee had been relieved when Ian got cold feet and called off the wedding five years ago. Bree might love knitting and be something of a homebody, but Renee felt like Bree’s heart was too big to be given to an auditor who seemed more passionate about duck hunting and the New England Patriots than her little sister.

  She’d been meaning to talk to Bree. More and more she’d seemed to be going through the motions. Never fully engaged or happy.

  But Renee was suddenly too exhausted for a deep and meaningful conversation. Plus her stomach had begun to hurt, like she’d been punched in the gut too many times for one day.

  “I can’t fight with you too,” she announced with an air of finality.

  “What do you mean ‘too’?”

  “Tansy. I had it out with her today. It was awful. She doesn’t want to come home this summer. And I saw these pictures of her, and she was smoking…smoking! Like hello! Was watching Dad die of lung cancer not enough?” Renee pressed a hand to her mouth as Bree’s eyes widened. “Never mind. Coming here was a bad idea. I don’t want to get into it with you, or Tansy, or anyone. I’ll go home and garden. Yell at the weeds.”

  “Wait a second.” Bree hurried behind as she made her way toward the door. “Don’t leave in a huff. I was only being real! That’s what sisters do!”

  Renee didn’t answer. She nearly tripped down the front steps and could hear Bree gasp from behind, “Be careful!”

  She thrust her hands into the air. “I’m fine!”

  For once she wished she could say those words and actually mean them.

  It was time to add a few sprinkles to this smushed cupcake of a day.

  When she got home, she stalked passed her garden without giving the dandelions a second glance. Instead, she marched up to her favorite Adirondack chair on the porch, took a seat, and whipped out her iPhone.

  Tansy, Bree—heck, probably the whole frigging town—thought she was some cautionary tale of broken hearts and broken dreams. She’d show them. She’d show everyone.

  Heart in her throat, she selected her message thread with Dan, which included painfully professional topics such as restocking their Sesame Street sticker supply and the missing address of an insurance provider.

  “Here goes nothing,” she muttered.

  Hi. Sorry yesterday ended so abruptly. Poor Dan had excused himself after Tansy’s unexpected phone call, saying they would catch up later. Now was as good a time as any. I had a lot of fun with you.

  There. If that wasn’t a sprinkle, she didn’t know what was.

  Renee shoved her phone back into her pocket, suddenly exhilarated by her own small act of boldness, and headed for the beach. She felt her jacket buzz but waited until she was sitting on the cool sand to look at the message.

  I had fun, too! ☺

  She smiled, loving the little smiley face emoji.

  And then, another message came.

  Are you free tomorrow night? Want to grill on my boat?

  Renee screamed—a wonderful, guttural exhale.

  Yes. That sounds great! She beamed as she pressed each letter. What time?

  She wanted to twirl barefoot at the waterline. She wanted to dig a hole and hide down with the crabs.

  This all felt thrilling and terrifying.

  Her moves may be rusty, and her playbook completely blank, but she was ready to get on the field and put her heart back in the game.

  If only she could send it off with a helmet and protective padding.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It couldn’t hurt to take a peek, right?

  Sadie and Lincoln had gone to celebrate the warmer weather and her intense pregnancy craving with a trip to Sprinkles Ice Cream. Maybe it was the pralines-and-cream-fueled sugar rush, but before she’d even finished her double scoop waffle cone, she’d strapped Lincoln back into his car seat and lead-footed it to the Old Red Mill. It was a blue-sky April afternoon, and daffodils and tulips lined the street. It was a
short distance to the mill’s location on a quiet bend of the Indigo River, maybe half a mile at most. Sadie drove with all four of her windows (plus the moon roof) open. The rearview mirror revealed Lincoln in all his chocolate ice cream smeared glory.

  She wasn’t going to fret about the sticky mess she’d have to deal with later. She was too busy licking her own cone, deliriously happy with possibility. She had discovered Grandma Hester’s missing recipes. There was a new life quietly taking shape inside her. She might be returning to the design world with an exciting new business venture.

  Hope bloomed through her chest like a sunflower.

  She parked the minivan by the river and got Lincoln out to take a look around. That’s all she was doing, she told herself as she tried to focus on the mill’s faults. After all, the red paint was chipped in places, and some of its boards looked rotted. The waterwheel was impressive, though it had been decades since it had been in use. But the stone foundation appeared solid, and the roof had no missing shingles or obvious leaks. Not only was the mill adjacent to the river, it was also surrounded by mature maple and ash trees and all sorts of wildflowers.

  “Gorgeous.” Sadie breathed in the fresh air and potential of this place.

  The Old Red Mill was always stunning during the fall, with the red, orange, and yellow foliage on display. If she squinted hard enough, she could imagine customers at farm-style tables, smiling over warm slices of Renee’s pies, cozy and content as they enjoyed the view.

  “Well well well! Hey there, Sadie. Hiya, Lincoln! Fancy seeing you here.”

  Sadie jumped two feet as her cone hit the ground.

  Essie Park posed on the front steps of the Old Red Mill in knee-high boots.

  “Essie, hi,” Sadie sputtered, embarrassed by both her nosiness and clumsiness. Hastily, she bent to pick up the fallen ice cream cone. She may be a snoop, but she was no litterbug.

  “Oh leave it.” Essie smoothed a lock of perfectly straightened hair over her camel-colored blazer. “You’re about to make some raccoon very happy.”

  “Ha, right.” Sadie shuffled awkwardly. “Lincoln and I were exploring.”

  “Beautiful day for it.” Essie’s smile held a glint of glittering resolve. “But not all who wander are lost. What’s the deal? You interested in a lease?”

  Busted.

  Essie had a spectacular BS detector, and right now it was almost audibly pinging.

  “Renee told me about her pie shop idea,” Sadie confessed. “And I want to help.”

  “Smart girl.” Essie gestured toward the heavy front door. “Smart Renee, too. Why don’t you both come on in for a tour? I’d love to show someone with your design background around the place. There’s oodles of potential.”

  Sadie nodded, cheeks pinking from Essie’s straightforward compliments. Scooping Lincoln into her arms, she followed Essie inside, her heels echoing briskly against the hardwood floors. Sadie could hardly keep up, and she was wearing a pair of Pumas with her signature yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt ensemble.

  The first thing that stood out was the abundance of natural light.

  She’d expected the mill to be dark and maybe a little damp and cold. But it was quite the opposite.

  “Wow.” She did a little spin and made Lincoln giggle. “Just…wow.”

  An entire wall was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows, allowing sunlight to pour into the space. Even better, the windowed wall was on the side of the mill that faced the river. It boasted a fantastic view of burbling rapids, rustling beeches, and stony banks. The wooden ceiling beams were exposed, making the height of the space all the more impressive while also imparting a more modern, industrial feel.

  “How long was the space used as a mill?” Sadie was amazed at the positive energy radiating throughout the building. “I don’t really know much about the history. It hasn’t been operational since I’ve been alive.”

  “It’s something special, isn’t it? The new owner is an investor who lives in Manhattan, but he grew up rurally and appreciates the place’s character and potential. I’m determined to find him the perfect tenants.” Essie stood silent briefly, lost in her own thoughts. “But it was an operating mill until the 1960s. There are a few books that reference it in the library. You should check them out. They’re worth a look for the old photos alone.”

  Sadie nodded, knowing she would.

  “These are the original floors and beams. The windows were added by the mill’s next tenant, a restaurant that had a very brief stint here. Probably only a few years at most. I bet your parents came here for a date or two. It was called the Miller’s Wife. Ring a bell?”

  Sadie frowned, shaking her head. “Vaguely.”

  “I forget how young you are.” Essie winked.

  Ouch. While Essie had likely meant it as a compliment regarding Sadie’s maturity, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d said it because she thought Sadie looked old. It didn’t help that Essie, who must be twenty years Sadie’s senior, had clearer skin, brighter eyes, and a better figure.

  When was the last time Sadie wore her favorite heels? And where even were they? Probably collecting dust bunnies in the hall closet. Dressing like an adult and doing a job that fulfilled her on a cellular level, now there was an idea that was almost sexier than Chris Hemsworth shirtless.

  She cleared her throat and refocused. “When did the restaurant close?”

  “Late nineties. You’d have been tiny.” Essie walked toward one of the large windows, admiring the river below. They’d had a few days of heavy rain, and the current looked powerful while a heron stalked the shallows. “Between you and me, their food wasn’t much to write home about. But they did add quite a kitchen. Wanna see?”

  “Shut up.” Sadie’s eyes widened. “There’s a commercial kitchen?”

  “You betcha. Come on, I’ll show you.”

  Sadie followed Essie toward the back of the mill where a slightly dated—but absolutely usable—kitchen was located. She poked her head inside the giant stainless steel refrigerators and opened the oven doors.

  And the built-ins! The built-ins were incredible. They must be over one hundred years old. Sadie traced her hand across one, its white paint peeling.

  All this space needed was a good scrub and a little bit of love.

  For starters, they could paint the cabinets. Maybe a cheerful periwinkle paired with light yellow accents or a grayish, seaside blue…Sadie would pull color swatches tonight. Schoolhouse lighting would look fantastic in here or even retro globe fixtures. A window over the deep porcelain sinks overlooked the river and she could imagine it outfitted in the same gingham curtains they’d use for the shop.

  Gosh, and this was only the kitchen.

  Beside the space for the pie shop there were all sorts of other interesting rooms. Main Street was special, but this space was something else entirely, and would be a welcome respite from the constantly changing weather. Besides the pie shop there could be a bookshop, an old-fashioned candy store, a craft cider tasting room, a yoga studio, a boutique toy shop, or a small hair salon. So many options.

  “Okay, this place is insane.” She laughed, breathless in her excitement. “And I mean that in the best possible way.”

  “I know it, right? We just need to convince Renee.” Essie’s phone started to blast a Beyoncé song for a ringtone. She glanced at the screen and raised her perfectly micro bladed brows. “I need to take this call, but you stay as long as you’d like. Afterwards, let’s regroup, and you can ask me any questions you may have. I’ll be just outside.”

  Sadie nodded. She set Lincoln on the ground and walked back into the main area.

  Her mind whirled.

  The mill was huge—it had enough space for at least five shops and oh, maybe one of those trendy shared working spaces for freelancers. Chickadee Studios and Castaway Yarn were both bursting at the seams. She wouldn’t be surprised if the two shops would want the space.

  Best of all would be the pie shop, the heart of the new
Old Red Mill.

  Her fingers itched for a sketchbook and pencil as the design ideas came fast and furious. She would keep all of the Old Red Mill’s original details intact—that was important—and add modern touches where appropriate. The space should feel creative, innovative, and slightly industrial, yet warm, inviting, and cozy—and through it all the scent of Renee’s addictive pies wafting in the air.

  That rich brown-sugar scent.

  It was the same sweet way her grandma had always smelled, of love, comfort, and safety.

  Oh God—what if they named the pie shop “Hester’s”?

  “Do you like this place?” Sadie asked Lincoln, as two-year-olds are known for their honesty. “Is it cool?”

  “Yes!” Lincoln exclaimed. “We go to park now? Swings?”

  “I like the way you think,” Sadie said with a grin. “And yes, buddy. I promise we’ll head to the park next.”

  Gosh, maybe the Old Red Mill could even have some sort of play area and indoor jungle gym. It would be a perfect spot for parents to take their children on rainy days, or when the weather turned cold. Plus, how many times did Lincoln grow impatient and cranky during errands? Busy parents could take a short play break between their stops at the shops.

  Sadie held Lincoln’s hand as they walked out to meet with Essie once more.

  She was finishing up her phone call and jotting something down in the sleek, black planner she always carried.

  “I have another bit of exciting info,” Essie said. “That was Mayor Peterson calling to let me know the city council approved funding for a riverwalk during last night’s meeting.”

  “Yeah?” Sadie was only half listening. She was mostly watching Lincoln, who had started playing with a pile of rocks. Knowing her luck, he would break one of Essie’s car windows. “Well, that sounds nice.”

  “Girl.” Essie arched a brow. “Have you been following the riverwalk news?”

  “Honestly, no.” She shrugged. “I’m a little out of the loop on local news.”

  “The boardwalk trail is going to go right past the Old Red Mill.” She beamed. “Can you imagine the extra business it will bring? People will be able to stroll from the harbor to Main Street to here, no problemo.”