Page 65 of Second Tide's the Charm
She grunts out a laugh. “What’s embarrassing is that Zuri’s seven-year-old son saw me struggling and recruited his friends to help me. Then a bunch of other neighborhood kids came out and all chimed in with advice. One of the moms saw it and uploaded a video to their moms’ group. Word is it made the rounds of social media and won some heartwarming moment of the week award for a webzine.”
My mouth falls open. “Wait, you’re telling me you’re also internet-famous?”
She shakes her head. “I’m ‘endearingly uplifting for a select audience’ famous.”
“You’ve been holding out on me, Hope Evans. You come in here all wide-eyed and starstruck—”
“Oh, is that how it was?”
I shift in my seat to face her, swept up in flirting with her. “Uh, yeah,” I tease. “Yet all along you’re a star in your own right. Two internet celebrities? Total soulmate vibes.” I freeze. This is what happens when I let my guard down. “Not that... I didn’t mean...”
“No, no, you’re right,” she says, copper eyes sparkling. “Internet notoriety is totally a solid basis for true love.”
Relieved, I laugh. “Can’t have a soulmate that doesn’t know what it’s like to go viral. They should add that to dating apps.” I sit back on my heels. “Anyway, learning from a bunch of neighborhood kids is cool. Iris is the one who taught me. I actually picked it up pretty quick. She’s a great teacher.”
“Why are you surprised? She’s been at it for like twenty years.”
“Yeah, but she’s Iris.”
She smiles at me. As an only child, she’s always seemed amused by my sibling rivalry with Iris. “Would you ever guess that I learned how to lay tile?”
“Lay tile?” I’m momentarily thrown by the change in topic. “What for?”
“Zuri wanted to give the bathroom at the store an upgrade.”
I can picture Hope being great at that. Skilled with her hands, attention to detail. “I signed up for a cupcake-making class at the library.” Somehow this has become a catch-up session and I don’t mind at all.
“You can bake now?” She’s abandoned the knot to focus all her attention on me. “Next time I’ll skip the bakery and you can bring breakfast.”
I raise my hand in a quelling gesture. “Never said I could bake. I said I signed up for a class. After I burnt the second tray of cupcakes I was kindly asked to leave.”
She snorts. “Stop.”
“Why do you think I volunteer my time there now? Guilt.” Joking around is so easy with her, and I’d forgotten how much I missed these lighthearted moments.
She shakes her head, but her smile is wide. “I participated in a 5k.”
“You took up running?” She once claimed running was a gait designed for emergencies only.
“Handed out water,” she says, and I chuckle.
Bending to pick up the tangled line, I say, “I entered a wood chopping contest.”
“What now?”
I look up to find her eyeing me above the rims of her sunglasses. “For charity,” I explain.
“Did you win?”
Chuckling, I say, “Nowhere close.”
“Is there footage?” Her pupils darken, intense.
“There is.” And this time, I wouldn’t mind if she googles it.
She nudges her sunglasses up onto the bridge of her nose. I catch sight of my smiling reflection, and for the first time since she came back, don’t feel the need to hide how I’m feeling.
“I see your knot skills haven’t improved much.” She takes the tangled line from me, fingertips warm and soft against my calloused knuckles. “Look at this mess.”
