Page 37 of Middle Ground
He turns to me. “And for you?”
Apparently his dislike of me isn’t going to stop him from taking my business.
“I’ll do a Hawaiian, but add green olives.”
With a wry twist of his lips, Rudy goes about making our pizzas.
“You havegotto be shitting me,” Meyer says with a scoff.
“What?” I turn to her, eyes narrowed. “Are you one of those people who hates pineapple for no good reason?”
“No,” she says. “You stole my order!”
I chuckle. “I wasn't aware someone could hold ownership over a pizza topping preference.”
She crosses her arms and turns away, pretending to inspect the photographs and artwork on the walls. I take her lead, sidling up beside her, hands in my pockets. More than once, I can sense her turn in my direction to shoot me a glare, but I keep facing forward.
I point toward a photo just above her eye level. “Nice shiner,” I say.
It’s a picture of a local children’s soccer team that Papa’s Pizza Emporium sponsored years ago. Right there, in the centre of the front row, is a little Meyer. She’s probably no more than eight, but she carries herself the same way present day Meyer does. And she’s sporting a gnarly black eye.
Meyer can’t hide the proud grin that stretches across her lips. It’s not directed at me, but I feel a strange sense of accomplishment because I did that. I made her smile. It’s a welcome departure from her typical scowl when I’m around.
“One of the boys in my class was making fun of my friend,” she explains. “She needed braces, but she couldn’t get them yet. He made one too many comments about her crooked teeth, so I gave him something else to talk about instead.”
Another well-established fact about Meyer Ellison is that her protective streak is a mile long. I see it in the way she cares for the employees at the inn—the way she cares about the inn itself.
It’s an innocuous anecdote from well over a decade ago, but I relish this new information. And I crave more. My fascination has been apparent from the moment I laid eyes on her, but it was purely physical then. Having been in her presence these past few weeks, I find myself wanting to know how her mind works.
“Are you still friends?” I ask, just to hear her talk a little more.
She shakes her head. “We were until the end of high school. Then she moved to Kingston for university. She comes back home sometimes, but if anything, we just wave at each other from across the street.”
“I have friends like that. Acquaintances, really.” I rub a hand along my jaw. “If I’m honest, I’ve only ever had the one friend.”
By the time high school hit, besides Wells, no one was willing to put up with my near constant studying. And when I started working, the long hours left me too exhausted to contemplate more than a casual drink with colleagues every now and then.
“Pizza’s up!” Rudy calls, shutting down our conversation.
When I pull out my wallet, I send a teasing glance to Meyer. “Aren’t you going to offer to pay for yours?”
She smirks. “No. I’m pretty sure you canafford it,” she replies. “Besides, you’re the one who asked me to dinner, Hotshot.”
Rudy rings the pizzas up and I pay. Then I drop a hefty tip into the tip jar before grabbing my pizza box. Meyer already has hers in hand.
“Thanks, Rudy!” She smiles. “Another month and it’ll be prime picking season. Then I’ll whip up a pie just for you.”
Rudy points a green bell pepper in her direction. “I’ll hold you to that. Best fucking pie I’ve ever had.”
She places a hand to her chest with a grin. “Oh, how you flatter me.”
“Yet you still won’t give me a second chance.” He winks. “Say hello to your mama for me.”
She waves, and thenfinallywe’re heading out the door. Once outside, I jut my chin in the direction of the park across the street. There’s a small playground farther down with a couple swings, a modest slide and a set of monkey bars. A gazebo with chipping white paint stands sentry in the middle of the green space. We find a picnic table sitting under the shade of an oak tree, perfect protection against the setting sun.
Well, almost. The tree does nothing to shield me from the mesmerizing way the orange and red hues play in the reflection of Meyer’s crystalline eyes.
Apparently even eating a greasy pizza in the middle of a public park isn’t enough of a deterrent to keep my mind from drifting.
