Page 31 of Nothing Less than Magic
We make a pit stop at the market, where at the last minute, Lolly decides that margaritas are in order and spends half an hour picking out a top-shelf tequila. Mind you, the grocery store only has three (more than I would’ve thought). But Lolly deliberates over which one to choose, as if she’s buying her first car. I’m betting it’s a stall tactic, but whatever. She takes an equally long time to peruse the produce aisle for limes and strawberries, and maybe mango. “Because who doesn’t love a mango margarita?”
I advocate for one of those premade lime juice mixes, but Lolly isn’t having it. I don’t know when she became the Barefoot Contessa.
Three grocery bags later, we hit the road. But halfway home, Lolly gets a call from Brent. It appears dire. From her side of the conversation, I deduce that Taylor has come down with a bad case of stomach flu and wants his mommy.
“Do you really have to go?”
“Nah, I’ll just let my kid die while I drink margaritas with you.”
“Lolly, it’s a stomach flu, not malaria. Can’t Brent deal with it?”
She pierces me with a condescending look that says I know nothing about motherhood. Or kids. Or her or Brent. “He’s useless in situations like this.”
She’s out of the passenger seat before I have time to activate my emergency brake in the driveway, then rushes from the car to the house. When I get inside, she’s throwing her clothes in her suitcases and packing up her toiletries.
I follow her to her vehicle, and we hug like we can’t let go, our visit cut ridiculously short.
She pulls away from me, looks at her watch, and hops in her car. As she drives off with her window down and her middle finger waving in the air, she yells, “Don’t drink all the tequila, bitch.”
Even Knox’s incessant banging on the roof can’t sour my mood. Lolly and I have made significant headway in patching up our tattered relationship. Though we never said as much, I can feel a shift between us. I can feel us coming closer together.
I roll over on my side and send her a quick text to make sure she made it home safely. A few seconds later, my phone pings with a picture of her and Taylor, hugging the toilet, pretending to barf in the bowl, and a message that reads,It must’ve been a 24-hour bug. Catastrophe averted. #BrentIs-Incompetent.
I smile and get out of bed. It’s late, well past the time I usually wake up. Last night, I slept like a rock. Without Lolly, there’s plenty of hot water, and I stand under the shower head until my skin turns red, then dress and go in search of coffee. As per usual, Knox has left me half a pot.
As I sit at the table, sipping and scrolling through my phone, Knox comes in and refills his thermos, then scrounges through my pantry for the cookies he gave me. It’s on the tip of my tongue to say,Just make yourself at home. But honestly, I’ve come to enjoy him making the coffee in the morning. In the city, I don’t bother with it at home, instead sending Ronnie out for Peet’s or Starbucks, or whatever is convenient.
I hold up my cup and say, “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Where’s your sister?”
“She had to leave early. Her kid was sick.”
“That’s too bad. You two looked as if you were enjoying yourselves.”
It’s true, we were, which in and of itself is a minor miracle. “The parade was really good this year,” I say, though it’s the only one I’ve attended.
“Yeah? Seemed like the same old crap as every year.”
“You don’t like it?”
“I love it. But it never changes. That big pumpkin balloon. Bank of the West’s haunted mansion. The high school band. Let’s just say variety isn’t the spice of life here in Ghost.”
“Why don’t you leave, then?”
“Because I like it.”
“It doesn’t sound like it.” He grins, and my insides do something funny. “You’re a weird guy.”
“I’m told that a lot.” His mouth slides up again. “What’s your plans today?”
“I don’t know. Why?”
“It’s going to get noisy.” He looks up at the ceiling. “Maybe you want to go out for a while.”
“Okay,” I say, but don’t have anywhere to go. It’s too early to hit the Ghost Inn for a cocktail and too chilly to go out on the boat. Plus, that didn’t work out too well the last time. “Any suggestions? I’ve run out of things to do in town.”
“You ever been to the farmers’ market? It’s at the grange hall every Sunday. Nice produce. Lots of artisan foods. Definitely worth checking out.”
