Just South of Perfect

by Grace Palmer

  “I already stayed up way past my bedtime,” he said. “But it was worth it.”

  “I hope so. I certainly had a good time.”

  “A great time,” Sam amended. “The best time I can remember having in a long time.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Everything about Stella’s time in Willow Beach had been wonderful. And usually by this point in a first date, she was fake-yawning and doing everything in her power to subtly express how ready she was to wrap things up and go home, but with Sam, she found herself walking slowly back to the car.

  When Sam offered his hand to help her into the seat, she squeezed his fingers and met his eyes first, pausing before she stepped inside. Stella was trying to wring the date dry, squeezing every possible moment out of it that she could.

  The drive back to the inn was short, only a few minutes. When they arrived, Sam let the truck idle on the gravel drive out front.

  “I’ll walk you to the porch,” he said, voice suddenly rough, “but I don’t want to kiss you out in the open where all the guests can see.”

  Stella’s heart took off, beating hard enough she was sure it would grow wings and take flight at any moment.

  When was the last time she was kissed? She couldn’t remember, and had a sudden and absurd thought that maybe she had forgotten how.

  Should she kiss Sam at all? If she was planning to leave tomorrow, was it right? They were both adults, and if they both consented to the kiss knowing she would be leaving tomorrow, there would be nothing wrong with an innocent peck.

  Yet, Stella worried for her heart.

  She liked Sam; that was undeniable. So many of her own feelings and hopes and desires had been unclear to her recently, but this one was not: she wanted to kiss him. But whether she should or not was still unclear.

  Just because you can doesn’t mean you should was one of the phrases she’d repeated most often to Jace when he was growing up. When he was young, she used the phrase to warn against picking his nose. As he aged, she offered it as helpful advice when it came to navigating peer pressure and relationships.

  Now, she said it to herself, but it didn’t seem to help.

  Sam gnawed at his lower lip, his eyes flicking down to Stella’s mouth. “May I? Kiss you, I mean? Would that be okay?”

  Stella hesitated, trying to figure out if it was possible for her to refuse him. She couldn’t just say no. She’d have to explain herself. She’d have to tell him that she might like him too much, which was why she couldn’t kiss him, and what kind of sense did that make? If anything, that admission said out loud would make her want to kiss him more.

  “I know you’re leaving tomorrow,” Sam said with a sigh. “But I had a great time tonight, and I like you a lot, Stella. You are kind and warm and fun. You’re strong and smart and…I could keep listing attributes, but simply put, I’d rather use that time to kiss you.”

  Her heart was now beating in her throat, making it difficult to speak, but Stella managed. “Yes, that would be okay.”

  Her voice was shakier than she’d have liked, but Sam didn’t seem to mind. His face split in a wide smile, and he leaned across the bucket seat of the truck.

  Stella kept worrying she wouldn’t remember how to kiss until the minute their lips touched, and then it felt as natural a thing as she had ever done.

  The warm smell she liked so much from his truck was all around her now, emanating from him, and Stella drew closer.

  Being with Sam made her forget her worries, and kissing him erased them entirely. Stella couldn’t imagine a single thing in the world that could be wrong or worth troubling herself over. She felt perfectly at peace, and she wasn’t keen to give it up anytime soon.

  His face was covered in a thin layer of stubble, and Stella ran her fingertips over his cheeks and around to the back of his neck. Sam leaned closer, sliding a hand into Stella’s hair, and she melted.

  There was an entire truck console between them—Stella could feel the edge of it pressing into her hip—but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

  She and Sam had spent the evening talking about time, whether they’d wasted it, whether there was enough of it, and now Stella realized they could’ve been kissing that whole time. Kissing would solve all of their problems. Because when they kissed, time stopped.

  For days, Stella had been agonizing over endless questions about her future and her purpose and her dreams. Now, with this one kiss, her head had gone quiet, and all those wants boiled down to reveal that there was only one true desire lying at the heart of them: to kiss Sam again.

  15

  Stella could feel Georgia Baldwin staring at her while she ate her breakfast, but she did her best to focus on her French toast. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk about her date with Sam; it was that, if she started, she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to stop.

  It was perfect.

  From the food to the conversation to the knee-shaking kiss at the end.

  Every single bit of it was perfect, and Stella couldn’t let herself feel those things right now.

  Because she was leaving today.

  The thought made her want to drop her face in her syrupy breakfast plate. Usually, planning out the details of anything calmed Stella down. It was the way she reclaimed control of her life. Now, the thought of planning for Boston—picking a hotel, mapping out directions, figuring out where to eat and what to do—was like a lasso tightening around her chest or a pit yawning open in her stomach.

  It was ridiculous. She couldn’t stay here.

  Everyone felt this way when they were on vacation. Who wanted to leave and go back to normal life?

  Except Stella wasn’t going back to normal life. Boston was supposed to be her vacation. Technically, she should have been thrilled to finally be getting back on track.

  But she wasn’t. She didn’t feel like she was back on track at all. If anything, Boston felt like the derailment now.

  “More coffee?” It was the fourth time Georgia had asked Stella if she wanted more coffee, and her cup was still just as full as it was two minutes earlier.

  “No, I’m fine, thanks.”

  Georgia smiled for a second and began to turn away before she sagged forward with a sigh and dropped into the chair across from her. “I’m dying over here, darling. You’ve got to tell me how things went with Sam.” Before Stella could answer, Georgia gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my. I’m so sorry. I’m overstepping. It’s not my business. I’ve always been too nosy for my own good, but Alma and Gwen are bad influences. They’ve made me incorrigible. I’m so sorry.”

  Georgia moved to dart away, but Stella reached out and laid a hand over hers. “Sam and I had a wonderful time.”

  “You did?” Georgia was more hesitant to pry, but she was smiling now.

  Stella quickly ran through the itinerary for the night, pausing so Georgia could interject.

  “Romano’s is always a hit.”

  “The cannolis are almost worth dying for.”

  “The lagoon! I’m so glad he showed it to you. I usually keep it quiet from the guests, but you’re different.”

  Stella didn’t mention the kiss. Mostly because she didn’t want to kiss and tell. But also, she was afraid to think about it too much.

  The night before, kissing Sam had been like turning off the tap of her anxious thoughts and letting them all drain away. This morning, however, they were back in full force.

  Would it be awkward seeing Sam after the kiss? Would they kiss again before she left town, or was that only reserved for after dates? Stella felt like a teenager fretting over a boy. It was silly.

  She was leaving today.

  “You’re leaving today?” Georgia’s smile faded, her lower lip pouting out. “I know that was the plan, but now that the time has finally come, I’m not ready to lose you.”

  Stella smiled through sadness of her own. “Do you get this attached to all of your guests?”

  “Only the special ones.” Georgia winked and
then sighed again. “We’ll all be sad to see you go, I know that.”

  “What? No!” said a voice behind them.

  Georgia looked up, and Stella spun around to see Tasha standing in the doorway. She was in a pair of loose denim overalls with the cuffs rolled up a few times, and her curly dark hair was pulled up in two symmetrical buns on either side of her head.

  “You’re leaving today?” She rushed forward, eyebrows pinched together in worry. “When? Right now?”

  “Whenever Sam gets my car fixed,” Stella said.

  “So, you have some time?”

  Stella was about to answer, but Georgia interrupted, a warning tone in her voice. “Tasha. Ms. Pierce is a guest here. You can’t rope her into helping you.”

  “I didn’t rope her in, Mom. She volunteered.”

  Stella thought that was a generous way to explain her participation in the set painting the other day, but she would let Tasha have this one. It had been kind of fun, anyway.

  “Nevertheless, you can’t come to the inn in search of free labor.”

  Tasha turned her caramel eyes on Stella, hands clasped together in a plea. “I’m not in search of free labor. Just one generous artist.” She launched into a long explanation about how the volunteer painters she had were fine with using stencils for faux wallpaper and painting the trolley red and gold, but they were miserable with the more complex sets.

  “We need a backdrop with the front of the Smith house and the front of the Truitt house next door. Sam promised me this morning that he would build the stairs and porch railings for the houses, but I want the houses themselves to be painted. No one else even comes close to your level of talent, Stella. And now that you’ve painted the other backdrops, no one else can match your style. I don’t want to keep you from your plans, but I’m desperate and—”

  “I’ll do it.”

  Tasha’s mouth hung open for a minute as Stella’s words became clear. Then, she clapped her hands together and grinned. “Really? You will?”

  “You don’t have to do this, Stella,” Georgia said.

  “No, I’m happy to. I enjoyed painting the other day. Do you think it will be done today?”

  Tasha winced. “I’m not sure. Maybe? It all depends on how fast you can paint.”

  Georgia sighed and shook her head. “Really, Stella, we’d love to have you with us longer, but don’t give up your plans for this. There are plenty of talented painters in Willow Beach.”

  “Are not,” Tasha insisted. “Thank you so much, Stella. I’ll meet you at the theater in half an hour?”

  Stella glanced at the clock. “I need to stop by Sam’s first to—”

  “No need. He’s already at the theater, measuring the stage for the porch.”

  “Sam, too?” Georgia shook her head. “You could be a dictator if you really put your mind to it, the way you have all these people working for free. Didn’t he already build you a trolley?’

  “And a staircase,” Tasha said proudly. She turned to Stella and pointed, already backing towards the door. “Half an hour?”

  Stella nodded. “Half an hour.”

  Georgia clicked her tongue as her daughter walked away. “A cult leader. The woman I raised could be a cult leader.”

  If the theater group was a cult, it was the happiest cult Stella had ever seen.

  When she arrived at the theater, everyone was standing around drinking coffee from The Roast while Tasha and Eddie put on an over-the-top performance of “Sixteen Going on Seventeen” from The Sound of Music.

  It was the first time Stella had ever seen Tasha perform. She made an amazing director, but she made an even better star. She stole the stage. Even Eddie, who gave a solid performance as Rolf Gruber, seemed mesmerized by her as she jumped from folding chair to folding chair, racing around the makeshift gazebo without fear.

  When they finished, everyone clapped, including Stella, and the couple bowed deeply.

  “Now, back to work, you lazy ninnies!” Tasha tried to look serious, but everyone laughed before shifting back into smaller groups and talking casually as they sipped their coffee. Sam was closest to the front of the stage. He had on dark jeans and a plain navy-blue long-sleeved shirt, but he might as well have been in a full tux for as well as he wore it.

  Stella could not wrap her mind around the fact that this handsome, kind, generous man was walking around single. It didn’t make any sense. It was like the world’s cutest puppy sitting in a “Free Puppy” box on a busy sidewalk with no one stopping to take a peek.

  Though, maybe that analogy didn’t quite track. According to the Baldwins, many women had stopped to take a peek. The puppy had simply refused them all.

  That made even less sense to Stella. Why her? Why would Sam choose to date her of all people? Perhaps it was because he knew she’d be gone in a few days. He looked at her the way she looked at her diet on vacation: I’ll indulge now because things will be back to normal in a few days.

  Was she just a quick fling for him? Of course, she was. What else could she be? They had both gone into the date knowing she’d be going back home soon.

  Though, Stella now felt like she was getting the raw end of that deal. Sam would stay here in Willow Beach with friends who loved him, and Stella was going to go back to Brenda…and—ugh—Mark. Quality was better than quantity, but—no offense to Brenda—Stella wasn’t sure Brenda’s friendship was enough to equal the community Sam had in Willow Beach.

  When Jace was living at home, Stella wouldn’t have dreamed of taking him away from his friends and his school and his grandparents, but now he was gone. And Stella couldn’t think of very many reasons to stay.

  Job security. That was a big one. She had seniority at the firm, and she was in line for a big promotion. Mark hadn’t been explicit about that, but everyone knew Stella was first in line for the job.

  Was there any other reason?

  “Are you going to stay here?”

  Stella jolted at the unexpected voice and realized in the midst of her thoughts, Sam had crossed the theater. He was standing right in front of her.

  “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Are you going to stay here, or are you going to come join us?” His eyes shone as he took her in, tipping his head over his shoulder to gesture to the stage. Stella followed him toward the rest of the cast. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he added.

  “Tasha talked me into coming to help again, and I figured I could spare another day in Willow Beach. Plus, I really miss painting. It’s been nice having time to do more of it.”

  “That’s good news because I have bad news.”

  Stella frowned. “Uh-oh.”

  “No, it’s fine. It’s just that the part will be another day.” Sam shrugged. “I was going to go pick it up myself, but the guy swore he’d have it here tomorrow, and then Tasha asked me to help her and—”

  “She’s persuasive,” Stella finished. They both laughed.

  “Very. I am sorry, though.” Sam bit his lip and ran a hand along the graying stubble on his chin. “You must think I’m the most incompetent auto mechanic ever.”

  “Not the most,” she teased. “Besides, I don’t know many mechanics who would repay my patience with the most amazing cannolis I’ve ever tasted in my life.”

  His brow arched playfully. “Is that what you remember about last night?”

  “Mostly,” Stella said, tapping her chin and feigning deep thought. “Yeah, nothing else is really coming to mind. The cannolis were the highlight.”

  “She thinks she is so funny,” Sam said to no one, slowly clapping his hands. “We’ve got a comedian here, folks.”

  Stella’s chest filled with warmth to the point she was certain she was buoyant. She could have floated right off the floor if someone had asked.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt like that. Before Sam, anyway. Since meeting him, it had been her constant state of being. And to think, it all started because her car broke down.

 
Fate and destiny had always felt like magic “woo woo,” as her dad would say. Stella never put any stock in them. But suddenly, she wondered if there wasn’t something to it.

  If Brenda hadn’t come to her house and forced her on a spontaneous vacation, her car would have never broken down. If Drew hadn’t driven past her when he had, Stella could have ended up getting help from someone else or getting in touch with another mechanic. If all of the parts Sam needed had been in the shop, Stella could already be in Boston, doing God only knew what to fill her week.

  So many things had lined up to lead to the past few days, and Stella was hesitant to blame it all on chance. It felt purposeful. Important. It felt like something she should pay attention to. And it certainly felt like something she wasn’t willing to give up just yet.

  “And it’s still early. I hear I’m even funnier at night.” Stella felt warm all over. She wasn’t used to being so bold.

  Sam didn’t seem to mind, though. He grinned and shoved his hands deep in his pockets like he was afraid of what he’d do with them otherwise. “I do love to laugh. Are you free tonight?”

  “I was thinking of hopping in my car and hitting the open road, but some incompetent mechanic still has my car, so I’m free as a bird.”

  Sam shook his head and began another slow clap. “Wow. The jokes keep coming.”

  “I’m here all night, ladies and gents,” Stella said, laughing and bowing deeply to her audience of one. The only audience she cared about.

  Tasha put Stella to work soon afterward, ending her comedy routine.

  “I don’t know how long you’ll be here, so we have to do as much as we can,” she said, handing Stella a list of sets she could paint along with light sketches she’d done of possible backdrops. “Feel free to use these as a guide or make up something else. I trust your vision.”

  It felt like a large amount of trust given how short a time they’d known one another, but Stella was determined not to let Tasha down. Maybe she’d even have to drive back for the performance so she could see it. Willow Beach was only a few hours away from home. She could drive down for a weekend to see the play. To see Sam.