Page 69 of The Tattered Gloves
“But what if someone does something really bad? Like murder or…” My voice suddenly faded.
“I don’t know, Mittens. It’s just an idea,” he said casually. “Maybe some things you can’t come back from?”
Could life really be judged by a simple scale?
Had my mom already tipped hers?
What about Sam’s father?
What about me?
How many bags of flour were sitting on my scale?
I FELT LIKE I was carrying Sam’s heart and soul as I walked in the door that night.
“What do you have there?” Addy asked as I stepped inside.
“Notes. Lots of notes.”
“Homework? During Christmas break?” she asked.
I actually did have some homework to finish during my time away from school, but I planned on avoiding it for as long as possible.
Nothing like a good bit of procrastination.
“No, notes on the bookstore. Sam… and I are working to keep it open.”
The mention of Sam’s name obviously caught her attention. “Sam? You two are getting along then?”
A slight smile spread across my lips at the curious tone her voice had taken.
“I guess,” I answered. “I mean, we see each other every day, so we’ve kind of become friends.”
“Did you know your cheeks are turning red?” she said, a smug grin appearing across her face as she turned away from the dinner she was making.
“They are not!” I argued halfheartedly because I knew for a fact that they were.
“So, Sam, huh?” she said, wiping her hands on a dish towel as she moved about the kitchen.
I carefully set the notes on the counter and took off my jacket, deciding to help her with dinner. “We’re just friends.”
“Okay,” she replied. Although she didn’t sound convinced.
“Why didn’t you ever tell me you and his mother were so close?” I asked, grabbing a tomato off the cutting board.
There was something therapeutic I’d come to enjoy about cooking with Addy. I hadn’t learned anything life-changing in regards to cooking when I was with her. Mostly, I just chopped vegetables and stirred sauces, but it was a routine I looked forward to every day. It was normal and boring and just plain nice.
“You know how I feel about—”
“Gossip. Yeah, I know.”
“Besides, I wasn’t sure how Sam would feel about me after all these years.”
“Sam thinks very highly of you actually. It’s why I have those notes. He wants me to have you look over them and see if you can offer us any advice.”
She stopped in the middle of rolling her meatball, her eyes showing the slightest bit of moisture as she pursed her lips together. “I would be honored.”
A couple of blinks and a few sniffs later, she was back to shaping another meatball when she asked, “He’s a good kid then?”
