Page 63 of The Wedding Run
She grabs my arm, eagerness gleaming in her eyes. “The festival is this weekend. Derek and I chose our wedding the weekend before so friends and family wouldn’t miss the festival.”
“Then we have to go,” I say as if it’s a foregone conclusion.
“We?” she asks.
“Of course, we.”
“But Andrea’s wedding is this weekend.”
It’s Saturday morning. We’ll go afterward. There's plenty of time to get to the festival.
She tilts her head, studying me. “But why do you still want to help me?”
“Because I made a promise. And you’re my friend, too.”
A grin spreads across her face, twisting my insides.
CHAPTER 32
Libby
Itiptoe through the back door, easing into the dark kitchen. I don’t want to wake Stacy or Wade. Nor do I want to see them and make small talk. I only want to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and try to forget about tonight. And Luke.
I round the corner into the hallway of Sophie’s bedroom when Stacy exits the laundry room and nearly collides with me.
“Oh!” she exclaims. “I didn’t know you were home.”
Home. It sounds so lovely, with a permanence that stirs a longing within me.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” I say. “I thought you’d already gone to bed.”
“Wade’s snoring away, but I have a few chores. Is Luke still here?”
I shake my head. “He left already.”
She looks at me closely. “You okay?”
“Sure. Yes. Just tired.” I feign a yawn.
“I was starting a load of laundry. It’s not full if you need to throw anything in.”
“Thanks, but I have enough clothes to get me through Saturday. And Andrea’s wedding. Then I’ll be leaving to go home. You’ve been so kind to let me stay this long.”
“It’s been a pleasure to have you,” she says. “Would you like a cup of tea? I find a nice herbal tea helps me release all the excitement of the day and sleep better.”
I’ll try anything because sleep this week has been elusive. “That sounds lovely.”
Stacy putters around, filling the kettle with water and placing it on the stove to boil. “I love this time of night,” she says in a soft voice that invites confidences. “When my children were little, I enjoyed the peace and quiet. Now it’s this way during the day too. I miss those busy days, the hustle and bustle with all the kids’ activities, and the quiet nights. Now the silence is a reminder that those years are gone. You probably don’t know what I’m blathering on about.”
She brings two pretty teacups to the table and joins me.
“How was your party?” I ask.
“Lovely. Just an old group of friends. We get together once a month, rotating houses. We shoot the breeze and overeat.”
“Sounds nice. To have friends to grow old with. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. You’re not old or anything.”
Stacy reaches across the table to clasp my hand. “It’s all right. I’m not a spring chicken anymore. And I’m okay with that.” She smiles. “I heard someone say every age has advantages and disadvantages. The trick is to accept the age I’m in and be grateful. But you’re right, it is nice to have friends we’ve known since, oh goodness, elementary school. We all grew up right here in Storybrook, except for Bill and Lou. They retired a few years ago and moved here from Connecticut. We adopted them into our group.”
