Chapter Five

“Hello,” Paige said, drawing out the word with her accent as she entered the kitchen. The woman was swallowing a bite of something and nearly choked. “Sorry for interrupting. You said something about coffee?”

“Come on in, sweetie. Have a seat. I’m Jenny, but everyone calls me Cookie. Not very inventive, but I still like it.” The woman appeared to be in her late sixties and wore her age happily. “I’d offer you a donut, but that was the last.”

“No more donuts. I am all dough-nutted out.” Her drawl thickened whenever she met new people.

“Then let me get that coffee going. Or is tea better?” Cookie opened a cabinet.

“Either. I’m Paige by the way.” Paige saw that the cook was rubbing and wringing her hands as her grandmother had. “Here, let me help you.” She pulled out a couple mugs instead of the more expensive, delicate cup and saucer sets Cookie had been reaching for. “I like these better anyway. Would you join me? Michael has some work to do upstairs.”

“Love to, but I need to finish these dishes first,” Cookie said over the running of the hot water in the sink.

“Don’t you have a dishwasher?”

“Yes, but, this cold, icy weather gets to me.” Cookie held up her hands, wiggling her stiff fingers.

“My grandmother used to soak her hands to ease her joints, too. She had arthritis as long as I knew her. Smart woman. She passed over a year ago.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

Paige nodded. “I’m going to visit my aunt about an hour away from here, to help clean out and fix up my grandparent’s home to sell. Mom says Auntie isn’t making much progress so I might be the kick in the butt she needs.”

The two fell into relaxed chatter, both washing in warm sudsy water until the dishes were done. Coffee mugs were filled. Paige added extra whole milk, something she never did at home—watching her weight—but she felt as if she were on some kind of vacation.

She eyed a deck of well-worn cards. “Do you play Gin?”

“Plain or Rummy 500?”

“Rummy 500 if you have time. It’s been so long since I played it. Unless you cheat.”

“I can try not to,” Cookie said with a wink.

Soon, the cards were shuffled and dealt. Rounds swung in and out of each’s favor. They spoke more, where Paige was from, her accent, Michael’s birthday, and then Cookie asked the inevitable questions about being engaged to him.

Paige looked up. “I’m not really his fiancé. I’m not sure what I am. Maybe his rebound and he’s mine? You’re not going to kick me out, are you?”

Cookie laughed. “Not hardly. He is a prince though. Known him for some time. From how he looks at you, though, and the way you two went at it this morning, there might be something there, don’t you think?”

Paige blushed. “You saw?”

“Only a peek. Okay most of it.”

“You are a cheater.”

“Learning to be. Gin. Again.” Cookie gleefully wrote down the score. “So why does he call you Flea? Is there something cleaning wise we should know about you?”

“Ha. Ha. He means flee as in run away. I sorta just left Atlanta because I lost a job and ditched my immature ex-boyfriend in Buckhead in the process.” Paige realized what she had spilled so readily to yet another stranger. “I think I said too much.”

“Tut. Not hardly.”

“I… Well, I didn’t mean to shock you about leaving one guy and then going with…” Paige pointed up, implying her Groundhog Man and the bedroom.

“Shock? Ha. You ever hear of Woodstock? I was there. I had many a man in my time and still do when I get the chance.” Paige’s eyebrows shot up at her confession. Cookie waved her off. “So, you slept around a bit, big deal.” Cookie leaned back in her chair.

“I didn’t sleep around.” Paige defended herself. “Only a couple college guys before Davis came along, and we moved in together in Buckhead.”

“That’s it? You’re, what? Twenty something?”

“Twenty-six.”

“By your age, I must have had a dozen lovers come and gone.” Cookie stared off in thought. “More. It was a different time back then. No Snapchat, Twitter, Swiper, or anything like that. Free love. Now it’s all digital, isn’t it?”

They both held to their mugs, silent for a moment. Then Cookie asked, “So what happened in Buckhead?”

Paige explained how Davis had been upset about missing out on a vacation with pals when she lost her job and how he had then confessed to having no marriage intentions, blaming it on her college debt. “I was packing up to move out when I thought he was coming around. He said, ‘Don’t move out now.’ I stopped packing and asked why not. He had the nerve to say the game was about to start! The jerk.”

“I would have kicked him,” Cookie shared.

“We Southern girls don’t kick. I stomped on his foot…accidentally.” She got Cookie laughing at that. “You know the sad part of it all? When I asked if he ever loved me, you know what he said?”

Cookie shook her head.

Paige mimicked Davis’s voice with only the slightest hurt to the words, “‘Course I love you, bae. We all do.’ Like I was just part of his fraternity and some vapid replaceable girl. Greerster, as they usually called him, worried more about sport scores and going out with the group than being with me. And…”

Cookie listened. Her sympathetic eyes encouraged Paige to continue.

“…and I guess I let him. I think I liked the idea of being with someone, especially someone my brothers and family liked. I wonder if I really understood or connected with him. He wasn’t ever right for me, was he?”

Cookie seemed to let the thought sink in. She looked up at Paige with sincerity pouring from her and shook her head. “No. Or at least it doesn’t sound like he was the one… I could joke with you and tell you to make up for lost time. That’s not you, is it? Just that, whatever is happening with you and Mr. Mc Handsome upstairs, that might be special. My eyes don’t lie to me about the chemistry you two share. He’s a rare breed. One of the good ones, I suspect. Maybe you two…well, who knows.”

Cookie shook out of whatever deep thought she had. “Anyway, shoo, Paige. Go kiss that new man of yours and have yourself some fun. Let Atlanta slide to the past.”

Paige rose, took a few steps, then came back and hugged Cookie. “You’re a good woman.”

“Don’t let that get around. And here.” Cookie dug in the fridge and handed Paige a simple sandwich and a granola bar from the counter. “Doubt anybody’s making deliveries with this weather. In case you and birthday boy miss lunch—make that, I hope you miss lunch.”

Paige would make sure she did. She ran up the stairs, not fleeing from something but running toward something. She still stumbled, though, on the thick stripy socks, completely forgetting her shoes.