Page 17 of Love's a Script
It was a nice sentiment, one he could echo. More questions piled up in his head that he didn’t get to pose because the room erupted with the jubilant squeals and applause of children, marking the end of story time.
“You won’t put anything I mentioned in your documentary, will you?” Mary asked as he helped her get the boys into their toques and mittens.
“No. Not at all. That was a genuine conversation.”
“Okay, good,” she said. “Then it was nice talking with you.”
“Yes, it was,” he replied. It wasn’t until he was back with his microfilms on the quiet library floor that he knew he meant it.
When Mary returned her nephews home, they were tuckered out from their day and didn’t put up a fight when their mother, after greeting them with kisses, declared it time for a nap.
Mary waited for Hattie in the kitchen, and when her sister arrived it was with a plastic-wrapped parcel in hand.
“Catch,” Hattie said, tossing the bag.
“What is this?” Mary asked after pulling out the contents of the bag to find a felt mermaid costume and purple wig.
“I thought we could dress up for this year’s plunge,” Hattie said.
The sisters had participated in an annual polar plunge fundraising event every year since Hattie had experienced a bout of postpartum depression with her second child.
“Thanks for taking the boys out today, by the way. How was it?”
“We managed,” Mary said as she removed her coat to try on the costume over her clothes. “I took them to see the ice sculptures, then we got hot chocolate. And ended up at the library for story time.”
“Which library did you go to?” Hattie asked.
“The downtown one.”
“Oh, I haven’t been since they finished the renovation.”
“It’s nice. They have this pretty mural as you walk in now. And they put in new carpeting in the kids’ library.”
“I’ll have to visit soon,” Hattie said, eying the bottom of Mary’s costume. “It’s a bit long, no?”
“A little,” Mary said, attempting to walk but nearly falling with the effort it took to move her legs.
Hattie grabbed her kitchen shears from a drawer and sat on the tiled floor at Mary’s feet. “Don’t move,” she said.
As her sister went to work taking off inches, Mary’s thoughts drifted to Ruben. She rarely ran into clients out in public. When she did, she’d wave or stop for a quick chat. She certainly never sat shoulder-to-shoulder with them on a carpet in a kids’ library. They’d been so close that she’d noted a cluster of freckles below his right eye that looked like an upside-down anchor.
He always set or reset the tone of their interactions with his off-kilter questions and dissecting gaze. She couldn’t rely on rote politesse. The unfiltered truth always came out, and as a result, today, she’d revealed too much about herself.
“There!” her sister said, hopping to her feet to look at her alterations from a distance.
“Feels good,” Mary said, easily crossing the kitchen with the room the hem shortening had given her.
“Okay, now on to more serious issues,” Hattie said, folding her arms. “What have you learned about Dad’s girlfriend?”
Mary removed her costume and stuffed it into the bag. “I did my best, but I couldn’t find anything on her.”
“See!” Hattie said. “That’s suspicious. How’s her only online presence the subreddit she and Dad met on?”
“She could be other places, but there’s a popular author with her exact name and it skewed every search I tried.”
“Mitch thinks we should hire a PI,” Hattie said.
“A private investigator? That’s a little dramatic.”
