Page 181 of Always Meant for You
I nod and gesture to my truck. “Yes, and I should be heading back to the farm.”
She slides her pad into her apron pocket. “Betty says she needs to chat with you. You’d best come on in. I’ll pour you some coffee.”
This should be fast. Betty’s not one for shooting the breeze. I shove my hands in my pockets and cross the street.
“Have you read your horoscope today?” she calls.
“No, I haven’t,” I answer, kicking a little dirt from my boots.
The woman chuckles. “Then you have no idea what’s coming, child.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
CAL
The bell on the diner’s door jingles as the door closes. The warm light filters through the gauzy curtains. The overhead fan turns in a lazy circle, stirring the scent of buttery casserole and the burnt edge of coffee. It’s quiet.
I slide onto a stool. The vinyl gives under my weight with a familiar squeak. Across from me, the countertop stretches and my gaze drifts to the far end, where Mabel used to stand, dark ponytail swinging as she refilled the salt and pepper shakers, always lining them up with quiet precision.
Betty appears from the kitchen, a chipped white mug in hand. She sets the coffee in front of me.
“Thanks.” I take a sip. “What’s this about town business?” I glance around and don’t see another soul. “Is Margaret joining us?”
Betty wipes her hands on a towel slung over her shoulder and leans her elbows on the counter. She doesn’t say anything. She lets the silence hang. Silence is not uncommon with Betty Young. But this bout of quiet has a heaviness to it.
“Margaret left with Sally to run an errand.”
I nod, still feeling hollow. My heart left on that bus.
“Why didn’t you go with Mabel to New York, Cal?” Betty asks, pegging me with her steely gaze.
I wasn’t expecting that.
I wrap my hands around the mug. “There’s plenty to do here.”
“The town won’t fall apart if you leave.”
I glance up at her. “I thought we had town business to discuss.”
“Oh, we’ve got business to discuss, young man.”
She pours herself a cup, comes out from behind the counter, and settles on the stool beside mine. And holy hell, I’m a touch off-kilter from all the words this woman has spoken.
“You and Mabel have put this town on the map,” she says matter-of-factly. “You two gave people a reason to believe in Elverna again.”
“That was all Mabel. We both know it,” I say softly.
Betty glares at me and shakes her head. “That’s not true. It’s youandMabel. You’re a team. Now, why didn’t you go with her to New York? And don’t tell me it’s because there’s too much to do here. You and Mabel have empowered the farmers and business owners. You’ve worked with them. You’ve educated them. Anyone here could host the governor if he popped in. That’s what good leaders do. They make sure what they built won’t crumble in their absence. Your community is behind you, and they are capable. You’ve got the Garver brothers at the farm. They’re good, hard-working boys. Now listen to my question, Callan Horner. Why didn’t you go with Mabel?”
My pulse is pounding. I’ve never seen Betty so animated. “This might be the most you’ve ever said to me,” I get out, a little frightened.
Betty frowns, the lines on her face deepening. “Don’t deflect. I speak when it matters. And this matters. Why didn’t you go?”
I stare into the mug and tell the truth. “I don’t know.” After a beat, I look up and see something oddly familiar. Something I never noticed in all the years I’ve known Betty Young. A younger version of her.
She doesn’t respond right away, but it’s like she senses the connection or understands it better than I do. She sips her coffee, watching me over the rim. Then she sets it down with a soft thud.
“I think it’s because of Chicago,” she says plainly.
