Page 51 of The Silence Between

She slid another sheet toward me. “I've also spoken with Marjorie at the community college about their tuition assistance program for local small business employees. You could finish your degree with considerably less debt.”

I stared at the paper, calculations running through my head. With this arrangement, I could potentially drop at least two of my current jobs. The regular hours would mean being home more consistently for Diego and Sophie. The stability would ease the constant background anxiety about making rent and buying groceries.

“It seems too good to be true,” I admitted, the wariness of someone accustomed to life's harsh surprises.

Eleanor sipped her tea before responding. “It's a business decision, not charity. This store has grown beyond what I can manage alone, and hiring someone I trust, who knows books and our customers, is simply good sense.” She set down her cup. “That it helps you is a pleasant bonus.”

We discussed practical matters but her perceptive questions gradually shifted focus to my obvious distraction.

“You've seen him,” she stated rather than asked, recognition born from decades watching Riverton's human connections form and dissolve.

“In the library. Last night. During my shift.”

“And?”

“And nothing. I said hello, apologized for interrupting, and left.” I stared into my tea. “It was awkward. Uncomfortable. Exactly what you'd expect after ten years.”

“Is that all it was?”

The question cut through pretense. “It shouldn't matter after ten years,” I said, frustration directed at myself rather than Ethan. “We were teenagers. It was impossible then and it's irrelevant now.”

Eleanor's response carried the wisdom of someone who had witnessed decades of human patterns. “Some connections leave imprints that time doesn't erase, just reshapes.”

Before I could respond, the store's bell announced a new customer. Through the office doorway, I glimpsed a familiar figure browsing the new arrivals display. It was Ethan, and he was clearly unaware of my presence until Eleanor called out a greeting that made him look up.

Our eyes met across the shop, mutual surprise registering before either could mask it.

“I need to check that shipment,” Eleanor announced to no one in particular, disappearing through the back door with suspicious haste.

Ethan approached slowly, as though giving me time to flee if I chose. “I didn't expect to see you here,” he said, stopping a careful distance away.

“I could say the same,” I replied, my voice steadier than I felt. “Though I guess it makes sense. You always loved this place.”

“Still do.” He gestured vaguely at the shelves surrounding us. “Some things don't change.”

The awkwardness hung thick between us. But gradually, inevitably, it yielded to tentative conversation.

“Sophie's very enthusiastic about your class,” I offered.

His face brightened. “She's a remarkable student. Insightful, creative. Her alternative ending to Romeo and Juliet was brilliant.”

“She mentioned that. Very proud of the feedback.”

“You should be proud of all of them,” he said, sincerity evident in his voice. “They're exceptional kids.”

The compliment landed somewhere tender, penetrating defenses I hadn't realized needed guarding. “They are.”

I found myself studying him more carefully than the library's shock had permitted. I noted the confidence he carried now, the ease in his own skin that had been only partially formed in adolescence.

“I should get back to shelving,” Eleanor announced, returning with suspicious timing. “But it's nearly closing time anyway. Perhaps you two would like to catch up? The café next door has excellent coffee.”

My instinct was to refuse, to retreat to safer emotional territory, but something stopped me. Curiosity, perhaps, or the simple exhaustion of avoidance.

“I have an hour before my next job,” I heard myself say.

Ethan nodded. “Coffee sounds good.”

Ten minutes later, we sat across from each other at a corner table in Riverton's only independent café, steam rising from mugs between us.

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