Page 49 of Book and Ladder
“I will.”
I drive to our community center, a sense of dread looming over me.It’s just the slow season, I tell myself. But if I can’t cover inventory and payroll during the slower months, what will happen if something bigger ever threatens Moss and Maple?
“Don’t worry,” I say out loud. “In a little over a month people will start to think about Christmas.”
Business always picks up in late October through the middle of December.
“And then it drops again,” I answer myself.
I stop there. Half smiling because I can’t remember a time I didn’t talk out loud to myself when I was stressed or excited.
“Maybe it’s not a sign of insanity,” I say, parking and gathering my things off the passenger seat.
I glance at myself in the rearview. “Then again, maybe it is.”
I shake my head, standing to follow the other townspeople who’ve shown up for tonight’s town meeting.
My phone buzzes in my purse. I pause, shifting my belongings to pull my cell out.
Winona:We got seats close to the front. Saved you one.
I don’t bother to try to respond. She’ll see me in a minute.
My eyes lock onto the back of a head of jet black hair. Patrick. He’s walking in with a man in a suit. And that man has hair the same color as Patrick’s. His stature is slightly smaller, but somehow more ominous. When did Mr. O’Connell decide to start attending town meetings? I’m aware he’s back in town—thanks to Patrick’s relocation into my duplex.
The pool of dread in my belly expands from a small puddle to a pond.
I find my seat between Winona and Carli three rows back from the podium.
“Hey, girl,” Carli greets me with a side hug when I sit down.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“I should have stopped in to help you close,” Winona says.
“It’s fine,” I say, setting my purse on the floor and opening my notebook.
My friends don’t have notebooks with them. I don’t know why I always feel compelled to take notes at these types of meetings.
My breath actually hitches when Patrick and his parents take seats in the front row. His hair looks freshly washed and his broad shoulders fill the space between him and the person beside him. He’s one of those men you don’t want to end up sitting next to on an airplane. Even if he didn’t want to, he’d command the whole armrest with his massive forearms.
After the mayor makes the usual opening statements calling us all to order, we run through the agenda: schoolbudget, storm readiness, and preparations for the Fall Festival.
Mayor Briggs stands again. “We have one final item of business. I’d like to welcome Conrad O’Connell to the microphone. As most of you know, Conrad and Lauren moved to Nashville several years ago, but they’ve maintained close ties to the Waterford community throughout that time. So, without further ado … Conrad, come on up here.”
Patrick’s father stands, smooths his tie and steps up to the podium.
“Good evening, neighbors,” he says with a deceptively warm smile on his face.
Carli’s hand instinctively lands on my knee. Winona pats my forearm.
Have I mentioned how much I love my friends?
“I’m grateful to be back in Waterford. Lauren and I will always consider this town home.”
I inhale deeply and blow the air out my nose slowly, quietly whispering the word, “But …”
Carli squeezes my knee reassuringly.
