by Isla Olsen
“I’ll be there this afternoon if you want to stop by,” she offers.
I nod. “Thanks, sounds great.”
We leave it there and she heads back across to Nora’s, while I head inside Mom’s house. I let out a heavy sigh as I cross the threshold of the front door. Every time I come back here to stay—which, admittedly, isn’t that often—I feel like I’m being transported back to my teenage years. It’s an odd feeling—part nostalgia, part bitterness.
I drag my suitcase through the hall and then up the stairs to the bedroom I lived in until I left for college. It’s exactly the same as it’s always been. Not because of any kind of sentimental attachment on Mom’s part; it’s just that she’s always been too busy and distracted to deal with packing it up. And I guess there’s never really been a need.
I open my suitcase and unpack all my stuff, re-folding all my clothes neatly and finding places for everything in my old closet and dresser. If there’s one thing I loathe, it’s living out of a suitcase. After I’m done unpacking, I grab a change of clothes and head to the bathroom for a shower to wash the day’s travel away.
Once I’m refreshed, I head down to the kitchen for a quick bite to eat before deciding to take Livia up on her suggestion to visit her boutique. I’ll have to face the town at some point so I may as well rip the Band-Aid off now.
If you saw it from the air, Finchley’s town center would look kind of like a stick figure drawing with no arms or legs. It basically consists of one long main street with a small park at the end of it and a circuit of shops and businesses wrapped around the park on the opposite side of the road. The town was founded in the 1800s during the gold rush, and between the balconied buildings on Main Street, the old-timey saloon, the soda shoppe, and the horse and carriage currently clomping around the town it definitely gives visitors feeling of stepping into a time machine. Of course, for me it feels more like stepping back into my childhood, rather than all the way to the 1800s, but it’s a strange feeling nonetheless.
I’ve only been back here a few times since I left for college twelve years ago and it always feels the same. Probably because the town hardly ever changes…
I find Livia’s boutique pretty easily; she mentioned it was opposite the park, a couple doors down from the library, so getting my bearings isn’t difficult. As I pass the library, I notice a couple other changes to the town: the small medical practice that used to be here next to the tourist info center has disappeared, replaced by a restaurant that I’m definitely going to have to check out; and next to that, the little pet store has now been turned into a wine and cheese bar. I make another mental note to check that out while I’m here.
The place Livia has secured for her boutique used to be an antique store, and considering there are two others already in the town, it doesn’t surprise me she decided to do something different once she took over the lease.
I step inside and am immediately greeted with a bright smile, but it’s Harriett who I encounter this time. And, unlike this morning, I can tell instantly because, having seen Livia so recently, their differences couldn’t be more stark. Harriett’s hair is now a lighter color and cut in a different style, and she’s curvier than her twin—not that that takes away from her attractiveness at all. Objectively speaking, obviously.
“Livvy told me you might be coming by!” Harriett exclaims excitedly. “It’s so good to see you!”
I grin at her. The twins were a year above me and Slater at school, but I always got along with them really well. They were like a couple of older sisters, really. “You too. This place looks great—are you running it too?”
She shakes her head. “I work at the library but I help out if Livia needs me.”
I nod, offering a soft smile. “That’s awesome. I just walked past the library, actually. What happened to all the places along there? The doctor’s and the pet store?” I ask curiously, before adding, “Not that I’m complaining that there’s more than one place to eat out in this town now.”
Harriett chuckles. “Well, June Oster decided to pack up and move away after her husband passed, so she sold the pet store. There was definitely a lot of grumbling when the new owners decided to close it down and turn it into a wine bar, but people got over it—everyone gets pet supplies online now anyway,” she adds with a shrug. “And Dr. Bailey moved to the new clinic a few years ago, so the doctor’s offices got sold as well.”
Huh. I had no idea there was a new clinic, which is weird because with my mom being a nurse, you’d think that’s something she’d tell me. I guess she figured I wouldn’t be that interested…
I end up spending the whole afternoon at the boutique catching up with Harriett and then Livia when she arrives later in the day. It’s not until they’re closing up for the day that I realize just how much time I’ve spent there, and that I’m absolutely starving.
Livia chuckles as my stomach lets out a loud grumble just as we’re leaving the boutique. “Come on, lets go get you something to eat before you fall over faint.”
I start to protest that I’m fine, but they each grab one of my arms and link elbows with me, steering me in the direction of Main Street.
They take me to the saloon, which is so not where I planned to eat dinner on my first night back in town, but my options are limited, and I am getting pretty freakin’ starving.
Once inside, we make a beeline for one of the booths and shuffle in. I snatch a paper flier from the table, assuming it’s the menu, but as I read I realize I’m mistaken.
“What’s this?” I ask, frowning in puzzlement.
Harriett glances over my shoulder for a second. “Oh, that’s something George has cooked up. He was upset that Charlotte wanted to stop doing dirty books for book club so he’s started his own.”
“Apparently they’re reading one of the Bridgerton books tonight,” Livia pipes in.
Harriett nods. “Yep. And Alice Ackerman’s going to do a dramatic reading.”
I stare at her for a moment, not entirely sure how to process all of that. Finally, I manage to ask, “Mrs. Ackerman? Our high school drama teacher?”
Harriett nods. “Yep. So I imagine it will be very…lively.”
I shake my head in baffled amazement before glancing down at the flier again. “I thought George was off on an oil rig or something?”
Livia lets out a tinkling laugh. “Oh, honey, you are majorly out of the loop! He came back years ago after dad had that heart scare. He owns this place now.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “George Goode owns the Finchley Saloon?”
Livia and Harriett both chuckle, neither of them the least bit insulted on behalf of their brother.
Harriett says something, but I don’t quite hear her. It feels like every sound in the room has been drowned out by the blood rushing in my ears as my heart starts pumping a million miles an hour. Slater Goode has just walked into the saloon. And he looks fucking incredible.
I’m so not ready for this…
6
From the private Facebook group ‘Finchley Locals Community Hangout’
* * *
Post by Missy Clarke: Does the Knitting and Drinking and Book Club meeting start at 8pm or 9pm tonight?
Beth Bowry reply to Missy Clarke’s post: 8pm. Scroll down, the info’s on George’s post below!
* * *
Slater
* * *
“What the fuck are you eating?”
“What does it look like?” I say, holding up the cling-wrapped, pre-toasted Pop Tart for Web to inspect, before taking a bite and talking with my mouth full of sugary, fruity—albeit cold and slightly soggy—goodness. “It’s a Pop Tart.”
Web just shakes his head in bemusement. “What are you, seven? Why did you pack pre-toasted Pop Tarts for lunch?”
We’ve just sat down on the bed of my truck to dig into our lunch. It’s a beautiful day; the sun is beating down, but there’s a nice breeze that’s keeping the worst of the heat at bay.
I sw
allow my bite and give a small shrug of one shoulder. “Only thing we had in the house. With everything that’s been going on I haven’t had a chance to get groceries—the situation is dire, man.”
Web takes a bite of his sandwich and yeah, I’ve got to admit, I’m having some serious food envy right now, ‘cause that thing looks amazing.
“Why couldn’t Chance do it?”
I shake my head. “Oh no, Chance is way too busy right now—did you know Mrs. Henderson is suing her cat again?”
A bright grin cracks through the thick layer of dark scruff covering Web’s face and he lets out a rumbling chuckle. “Nope, I must’ve missed that scoop.” He shoots me a questioning glance. “So, do I take it you’ll be hitting the saloon for dinner tonight?”
I nod. “Yep. But I have every intention of being out of there well before this book reading thing of George’s starts.”
Web’s brows shoot up. “Is there actually going to be a reading?”
I shrug. “I have no fucking clue. All I know is my mom’s going to be there talking about dirty books and I so don’t need to be witness to that.”
After lunch, Web and I get back to work installing the custom-made staircase Web’s made for our client. With me being a carpenter and him being a joiner, it makes sense for us to refer clients to each other and we often find ourselves working on jobs together. It’s led to us making the decision to merge our businesses and keep everything in the one place; it’s something we’ve been talking about for a while, but now it’s actually happening and we should be making it official pretty soon.
When we’re done with work for the day, we each go home to freshen up and agree to meet later at the saloon for some dinner. I probably shouldn’t be eating out again, and instead be spending the time collecting some groceries and making a nice, healthy dinner at home; but it’s been a long day and I just want some good food right now. Plus, I get a pretty good discount at the Finchley Saloon because George runs the place.
When I walk into the saloon a little while later, I’m hit with a strangle, prickling sensation that runs through my whole body. And when I glance around, I realize why. Zack Crawford—my high school boyfriend and the love of my life—is sitting at a booth with two of my cousins, and he’s staring right at me, his expression a mix of dread and awe that I can’t remotely begin to figure out.
I’m completely rooted to the spot, just inside the door, and I can’t stop myself from staring right back as a wave of memories and not-so-deeply-buried feelings comes rushing at me.
Damn, he looks good. My gut does a kind of nervous, flip-flopping thing as I take everything in: from the penetrating gray gaze, to the neatly-styled dark hair, to the day’s worth of stubble covering his angular jaw. He’s wearing a pale blue and white striped t-shirt that fits perfectly over his lean frame and emphasizes his golden tan.
I let out a long, shaky breath as I finally manage to tear my gaze away and walk over to the bar on unsteady legs. It’s not like I forgot how gorgeous he was, but seeing it in person compared to in a memory is just a completely different situation.
When I get to the bar, George quickly wraps up a conversation he’s having with another customer and bustles over to greet me. “He’s here for the funeral,” he says, taking out a glass and pouring a beer from the tap for me.
“I figured.”
“Are you going to talk to him?” George asks, sliding the beer across the bar to me.
“And say what?”
He arches a brow at me. “I don’t know. I guess you could start with ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ and then work in the bit about you still be completely in love with him.”
“Shhh,” I hiss angrily, cutting off any more of that line of talking. “This town gossips enough as it is.”
“If you ask me it doesn’t gossip enough,” George says with a smirk.
I shake my head in exasperation and take a sip of my beer. Web and Axel join us not long after that and we all order some food.
Throughout the dinner, although I’m managing to keep up with the others’ conversation, I’m incredibly conscious of Zack on the other side of the room. He, Livia, and Harriett have been joined by my sister Tansie and the four of them seem to be having a grand old time, with Ella—one of the saloon’s servers—returning to their table again and again to refill wine glasses.
“I hope you boys are planning to stay for Knitting and Drinking and Book Club,” George says after we’re done with out food.
Web, Axel, and I exchange doubtful glances. “Yeah, I don’t think so,” I say on behalf of all three of us. “It doesn’t really sound like our thing.”
“Since when is drinking and talking about sex not your thing?” George asks.
“Since it involves a dramatic reading by Mrs. Ackerman and my mom’s presence,” Axel supplies.
Web nods. “What he said.”
George just shrugs. “Okay, but you boys are missing out. It’s going to be epic.”
Somehow I doubt ‘epic’ is the right adjective for a book reading, but whatever. “I’ll take the risk,” I say.
Before we leave, I make a quick stop at the bathroom. And as I’m heading back down the hallway, I run smack into someone, almost sending them toppling over but managing to reach out and steady them in time.
Glancing up, I realize the person I’ve got a hold of is Zack. I’m frozen in place again as I just stare at him for a long moment, but then I finally manage to pull my hands away and take a step back. “Sorry.”
“Why do you look like that?” he demands, clearly agitated.
My brows draw together in confusion and I glance down at my appearance. Nothing seems to be amiss; I’m just in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. “Like what?”
“Like that!” He says again, waving a hand about in frustration. “All perfect and golden, and not at all bald. Or fat. Or covered in disfiguring boils of any kind.”
My brows shoot up in question. “Umm…”
“You’re supposed to be hideous! That’s the rule!”
“It is?”
“Yes! Don’t you know anything?” And with that frustrated comment, he gives an aggravated huff and pushes past me into the restroom.
I stand there for a moment, completely baffled; he’s clearly drunker than I realized earlier…
It’s not until much later, well after I’ve gotten home, that I realize exactly how drunk Zack got tonight, though. I’m in bed and almost asleep when I hear my phone vibrating on my nightstand.
George Goode: Dude! Your boy is wasted! He just spewed all over Mabel!
Me: The horse?
George Goode: Yup! Right on the ass *laugh emoji*
7
From the private Facebook group ‘Finchley Locals Community Hangout’
* * *
Post by Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor: Locals should be made aware of an incident that occurred last night between the hours of nine and ten pm outside Finchley Saloon. Hank Latham has made a report that Mabel was assaulted by an unknown drunken lout. Everyone should be on the lookout for unsavory characters in the area.
Beth Bowry reply to Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor’s post: Mabel? You mean the horse?
Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor reply to Beth Bowry’s comment: Yes. Apparently she’s traumatized, the poor thing.
Beth Bowry reply to Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor’s comment: It’s a horse
Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor reply to Beth Bowry’s comment: Horses have feelings too, Elizabeth
Harriett Goode reply to Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor’s post: Your drunken lout is Zack Cartwright *laugh emoji*
Missy Clarke reply to Harriett Goode’s comment: I thought Zack lived in Canada?
Harriet Goode reply to Missy Clarke’s comment: Chicago. He’s back for the funeral.
Hank Latham reply to Harriett Goode’s comment: So he says. But first opportunity he gets, he takes advantage of my Mabel! Rotten to the core, that one. I always knew it.
Alice Ackerman reply t
o Hank Latham’s comment: Don’t be crazy. Zack’s a good boy.
Missy Clarke reply to Harriett Goode’s comment: Do you think now that Zack’s back he and Slater will get back together? I love a good reunion story! *Heart emoji*
George Goode reply to Missy Clarke’s comment: You should totally ask them, Mrs. C. Right to their face.
Rock Goode reply to Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor’s post: Please tell me this is just about the throwing up incident and nothing more sinister took place?
Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor reply to Rock Goode’s comment: Danny checked her out and she doesn’t appear to have been violated
George Goode reply to Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor’s comment: Until Danny stuck his hand up there *laugh emoji*
Tansie Goode reply to Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor’s post: I’ve got footage of the incident Sheriff. Does this clear it up?
[Video]
Raymond ‘Sheriff’ Taylor reply to Tansie Goode’s comment: That does seem quite conclusive. Thank you Tansie
Jesse Cartwright reply to Tansie Goode’s comment: Excellent camera work. Can I please have this to put on YouTube?
Tansie Goode reply to Jesse Cartwright’s comment: I’ve already done it. [Link]
* * *
Zack
* * *
Jesse Cartwright: I can’t believe you threw up all over Mabel! *Laugh emoji*
I stare, bleary-eyed, at the text from my brother. I rub a hand over my eyes in an attempt to dislodge some of the crust that’s formed, but when I crack them open again it still feels like my eyelids are being weighted down by cement.
Me: Who the fuck is Mabel?
I try to think back to last night, but my head is pounding and I’m having trouble piecing together what exactly happened. I remember there being alcohol—that much is fact. And I remember being completely mortified about something. Did I spew on someone in my drunken state?
