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It took only two blocks on the drive of shame before the tears began streaming down my face. I’m so stupid. It’s not that I don’t think Gunnar’s feelings are real, because I know they are. I see it in his eyes, feel it in my heart, but I’ll never be able to compete with her. Willow is so perfect. She’s got perfect hair that doesn’t frizz in this Southern humidity like mine does, and her face is flawless. She doesn’t even have one freckle. I’m not sure if that’s even legal in the South. I’ve only been here for a short while, and I can already find constellations in all the freckles popping out on my chest and shoulders. And I don’t even want to start on those long, sexy legs of hers. Who knows how many times they’ve been wrapped around Gunnar? The thought sends chills down my spine.
Mrs. Cavanaugh is already rolling out dough when I walk in. Without even missing a beat, she asks, “Rough night?”
I slump onto the barstool in front of her and wipe a stray tear away. “The night was wonderful. The morning is another story.”
She stops what she’s doing and pours cups of coffee for both of us before motioning for me to follow her to the nearest table. We both pour coffee into our saucers and slurp from them.
“Child, what’s wrong?”
I play with the spoon as it gives me a distorted reflection of myself in the metal. “Miss Etta, I like him. A lot.”
When I have the courage to face her again, she cackles. “Glad to see you’re finally admitting it.”
I cry into my hands. She pats my arm and waits for me to catch my breath.
“It’s Willow,” I finally say.
Miss Etta tsks. “She’s a viper. He’s not stupid... anymore. Don’t you worry about a thing. She’ll be gone soon enough to toy with her next prey.”
“And I’ll be gone soon too.”
“That’s up to you.”
I think about the blueprints I have in my apartment upstairs. That’s the easiest thing to do. I can sell my property, run away, and forget all about this place. I can do that. I think I can.
“It’s probably for the best. I get what’s best for me, and Willow gets what she wants.”
“What about Gunnar? Does he get what he wants?”
I shrug. “If I leave town, I leave him. He’s made it very clear this town is what he wants. He wants this town to thrive, and he wants to be a part of it.”
“Nice of you to speak for him. I think, given the choice, he might surprise you at what he’d choose.”
I shake my head. “If he wouldn’t move to Chicago for Willow, he won’t move to Boston for me. And he doesn’t care enough about me to be fully honest with me. I don’t know if I trust him.”
She slurps her coffee then smacks her lips. “Again, nice of you to speak for him. You aren’t Willow. I’ve known both of them since they were in diapers. As long as he was doing what she wanted, everything was fine. When he wanted something different, she’d pout. I think he knew things were going south with her and needed her to say it. He didn’t build that house for her. He might think so, but he built that house to test her. And she failed.”
The door chimes, and in walk the two developers. “Hello, Ms. Carson.”
“Morning. I didn’t expect to see you today.” Crap. I don’t need this today.
Mrs. Cavanaugh stands and grumbles under her breath. “We got lots of jam and scones orders today. I’ll get right on it.”
“I’ll be there to help in a second.”
The developers take their place at my table and pull out documents. “We did some comps to find out what your store is worth, and you’ll see here our offer is way above what it’s worth.”
The offer is very appealing. I could sell, leave this place and everyone in this town behind, take my inheritance, and never have to step foot in this city again. I peek over their shoulders as Mrs. Cavanaugh cuts out biscuits in record time. She hums a gospel hymn that I actually recognize. “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms” has become my earworm this summer. I’ve really become attached to Mrs. Cavanaugh, and to Gunnar.
“In thirty days, we could have this building leveled and start working our way down the street. In six months, we could break ground for the new Save A-Lot.”
In a soft voice, Mrs. Cavanaugh sings the words to a gospel tune. “No, never alone, no, never alone. He promised never to leave me, never to leave me alone.”
A car creeps down the road, the driver waving at the pedestrians as they go. Stan knocks on the window and waves as he heads to work at the mill. The Jackson sisters walk in and take their usual seats. I wave to them. Even though they are cantankerous, I’ve grown fond of them. As usual, they take a picture of me with the two men.
Then Willow walks in.
She smirks as she sashays up to the counter. Mrs. Cavanaugh takes her order, but I wouldn’t put it past her to spit in Willow’s coffee. While she waits on her coffee and scone, she wanders close to our table. Her acting skills are terrible because even though she appears as though she’s checking out the plants in the window, I know she’s listening to every word we’re saying.
“So, do we have a deal?”
I stare at the two men, at Mrs. Cavanaugh, at the Jackson sisters, and then at Willow. She cocks an eyebrow. Mrs. Cavanaugh clears her throat and hands Willow her cup. Willow takes a sip of her coffee, scrunches her nose up, then walks to the door and freezes. She turns around and, with a smarmy sneer, she asks me the most off-the-wall question.
“Have you met the mayor?”
“Yep. I’ve checked that off my ‘how to fit in’ list. Why?”
She taps her cup with her finger. “Just wondering, because he would do pretty much anything to keep this town from sinking. I bet he’d even go so far as to suggest that someone do a little time in the sack to encourage a person to see things his way.”
I cackle at her insane comment. “I have a business to run, but thank you for your input.”
“Okay, but one day, I’ll say ‘I told you so.’” Her syrupy, singsong voice makes me want to claw her eyes out.
And with that, Willow prances out of the shop.
I don’t care about anything that comes out of her mouth. I watch her get in her car and drive away, then I look back at the two men. “I don’t know anymore. If you had asked me a month ago to sign the papers, I would have done it lickety-split.”
The man furrows his brow. “Lickety-split?”
I chuckle. “I would have signed in a heartbeat. But now, this place, these people...” I point at Mrs. Cavanaugh and the Jackson sisters. “They’re like family. I need more time. I don’t know if I want to sell anymore.”
The man’s jaw drops. “You’re staying here?”
I shrug. “I don’t know about that. All I know is this store is important to them... and to me. So either you can give me more time to think about it, or I’ll have to say no right now. What will it be?” Even if things go south with Gunnar, I don’t know if I can bail on this town and these people.
Both of the Jackson sisters’ jaws have hit the table. Miss Jennifer winks and gives me a thumbs-up.