Page 39 of The Ex Effect
The festival had the best people watching, from farmers to college students to suburban moms carrying their LV bags, all peering over what seemed like miles-long tables with everything from pickling jars to old stereos to Elvis cookie tins. The scents of hot dogs and mini-doughnuts swirled in the air like a hearty fog, the sounds of kids screaming and haggling of prices and conversation funneled around us.
As I strolled next to Sam, we talked about how our parents were trying to guilt us into going to a family reunion on my dad’s side with a hundred people we’d never met and frankly didn’t care about. Soon, my shoulders relaxed. I picked up an etched drawing of Marilyn Monroe, trailed my fingers across a standing ashtray from the ’30s, and allowed Sam to drag me away from buying a bucket of old buttons (Seriously, what are you going to do with those, he’d asked one too many times).
Sam slowed to look at baseball cards and peeked at me from the corner of his eye. “How are things going with Frankie?”
What a loaded question. Work-wise, Frankie was a rockstar. I didn’t even understand her stamina—working all day at the barn, then going back to Peaches’s house to pack up items. But everything else Frankie-wise made my stomach twist. “She’s married.”
“Huh.” Sam lowered the baseball card. “That’show she is to work with?”
I didn’t mean it to slip out quite like that, all wrapped up in a truly dejected tone that my brother was doing a terrible job of ignoring. “It just surprised me, that’s all. We’ve been working together all this time, and she never once mentioned a wife, you know?”
Sam tucked the card back in the box and pushed the stroller ahead to the next table. “So, you jealous or what?”
“I’m notjealous.”Ugh, I think I’m jealous. Dammit.I didn’t know what the hell I was, but knowing there was some spectacularly chic, ultra-hip, big-city-styled wife out there that Frankie shared her secrets with burrowed under my skin like a parasitic flea. “I just…you know, whatever. Never mind. Anyway, it’s fine working with her.”
The next table had boxes of brooches: turquoise, bronze, little birds, and butterflies with fake pearls in the middle. I sifted through those and avoided my brother’s laser beam gaze. He didn’t really want to hear these woes from me, and I didn’t have the energy to break it down for myself or him.
“Back then, I thought you and Frankie would be like Lisa and me. Lifers.” He pushed the stroller out of the way of a bystander marching their way toward us, juggling multiple canvas bags. “I thought you guys had a really cool connection. It always felt like she was part of the family.”
Sam wasn’t wrong. Back then, Frankie and I were tight. Closer than girlfriends, different from a family. We had this unbreakable, or what Ithoughtwas an unbreakable, bond. I swore we knew what each other was thinking, could finish other’s sentences, knew every detail about what made the other happy or sad. She was my other half, maybe even my better half.
Until she wasn’t. And losing someone so close had really hurt.
“I bet if you dig deep and put aside whatever is going on, you guys could probably be friends again.” Sam shrugged and set down his baseball card. “Might make you feel better.”
Well, Sam Rose. Who knew? Sometimes, although rarely, I had the urge to hug him. Right now was one of those times. I settled for resting my head on his chest for a quick moment. “You’re pretty okay, you know that?”
“I mean…” He laughed and waved to himself. “Besides, God knows you could use a friend. Since you hate cats, I’m worried that soon you’re going to be one of those women that talk to their plants and apologize to your couch when you bump into it because you’re not getting enough human interaction.”
I pinched his arm and refused to tell him I already spoke to my plants, but only because I read an article that it was good for them. “How do you go from nice to dick in zero point five seconds?” I leaned in toward the baby, who was still sleeping, and grinned. “Promise me you will grow up to be like your mom.”
The sun reflected off the brass and metal from the objects overflowing the tables. We walked booth to booth and oooh…What’s that?A steampunk-style clock sat on the edge of the table and it was beautiful. The multiple gears and Roman numerals were detailed, intricate, and sturdy. Maybe I should treat myself. I flipped the price tag…and…maybe not. When I set it back down, a set of old-fashioned milk jugs resting inside a wooden crate caught my eye.
My finger grazed the glass and circled the top. Greenery… cedar… planks… barn. Flowers… glass… centerpieces. I waved to the vendor. “How many more bottles do you have?”
The man checked under the table. “I betcha about another three dozen or so.”
My pulse kicked up a notch, the familiar creative adrenaline sparking my cells. This could be perfect. I snapped my head to Sam. “What did you guys do with those extra pallets from the corner of the barn? Did you toss them?”
“No,” Sam said, glancing up from digging through a box of silverware. “We added it to the wood pile in the back of the barn. We were thinking about giving it away or burning it.”
“Perfect.” I dug into my purse and turned to the vendor. “I’ll take all the bottles you have.”
As the man gathered the items, I panicked at the amount of stuff I needed to carry. I glanced at the baby andback at my brother. “Don’t kill me. But I need your stroller. You can have the baby.”
“Wow, thanks.” He cocked his head. “What are you going to do?”
“I have an idea.” I slapped money on the table, my blood pumping with excitement.
First things first, though. I needed to call Frankie.
SEVENTEEN
FRANKIE
My phone vibrated against the dresser, with Morgan’s name on the screen. Four days had passed since we last spoke, and I hesitated for a moment and answered.
“Hey, are you free this afternoon to meet at Pete and Patty’s?” she asked.
