Page 40 of Everything Has Changed
“Gwen, breathe. It’s just my mom.”
She releases a little huff that has the fringe around her face floating in the air. “She’s notjustyour mom, Logan. She is a smart businesswoman. And she’s trusting me with a major part of our town’s beloved history. I want to make sure I make her proud.”
My muscles soften all over at her sweetness. The pureness of her wanting to make a good impression on my mother.
“Gwendolyn, sweetie. I promise if I didn’t think you could do it, and do it incredibly well at that, I wouldn’t have asked you to take on this task.”
Gwen’s shoulders have inched up to her chin at the surprise of my mother’s voice behind her. She slowly turns on her heels, her eyes wide.
“Mrs. Spencer, it’s good to see you this morning.”
Mom rolls her eyes good-naturedly with a grin. “Oh, please, call me Margot. Mrs. Spencer is off RV’ing the Midwest, bless her heart.”
We follow Mom back to her office without a word exchanged, but I make sure to give Gwen an encouraging smile when I notice her slight hesitation. The one she gives me in return is wobbly, but it’s there, and that’s what matters.
She might be nervous, but she’s doing it.
Mom settles into her plush desk chair, pushing away some paper and closing her computer screen to give her full undivided attention. I take a quick glance around the room, my heart warming a bit at the corkboard along the wall behind her, which is covered in family photos. Mostly just her and me, I note.
“I see you had a little treat this morning,” Gwen points to the bakery box on the corner of the desk. A swirling logo that showcases the cursive initials of The Willow Whisk with willow tree limbs surrounding it is stamped into the lid.
“I told you I am absolutely in love with those apple crumble tarts.”
I turn to Gwen. “Why don’t I know about those?”
She points at me accusingly. “Because you only have eyes for one sweet treat these days.”
Two, actually,my mind reminds me as my gaze drops down to her pink lips that hold a curve to them currently.
I pat my belly to get my mind back on course. “What can I say? Those cinnamon rolls are insane. I had to add an extra mile to my daily run because I can’t stop getting them.”
“Next time, I’ll make sure you get one of Ophelia’s apple tarts.” Gwen starts rummaging through her large tote bag, presenting her laptop with a bit of flourish.
I feel bad for not being able to get with her over the weekend to sit down and discuss her ideas in greater detail. That fraudulent feeling sits heavy in my gut even after she assured me it’s fine. No matter how much she says it’s okay—which was a couple of more times as we walked together to town hall this morning—I still feel like I’m slapping my name on a project she did herself. Though she did take some of my ideas and incorporated them with hers, it still feels as if I did nothing. They were simple things I’m sure she would have come up with herself. But she made sure to make me feel like they were the missing key parts of our pitch.
I wish I could have spent the time one-on-one with Gwen this weekend. Partially so she wasn’t alone on this. But mostly to show Gwen the feelings that are brewing for her are more than just forced proximity or situational because of where I am at in life.
I know I have to prove to her she’s more than a simple trope. She’s the whole story. And reacquainting ourselves as friends was step one.
She opens her laptop, clicking a few times until the PowerPoint presentation I know she worked on for days opens on the screen. She angles it on Mom’s desk so we can all see it while she can still navigate the keys to flip through it.
Mom’s jaw drops open before snapping closed. A twinkle of amusement lingers in her eyes. “You don’t mess around, do you, Gwen?”
“You have no idea. I’ve been thinking about this for years.”
With pursed lips, Mom nods. She points to the screen, then to me before asking, “Did you help with this?”
I know she doesn’t mean it in a bad way necessarily, but it still stings as if she did. I don’t have a chance to say anything as Gwen speaks up.
“Absolutely. I mean, the PowerPoint is my little brainchild. But this was not possible without him. His ideas took my thoughts to a whole new level.”
Mom nods slowly from my periphery. Her eyes are on me, but I don’t know what’s written in them as I stare at Gwen. Her shoulders are pushed back, and her face is full of determination.
“That’s what I like to hear.” She leans on her elbows. “Let’s get to it, then. I can’t wait to see what you two came up with.”
Gwen peeks over at me out of the corner of her eye. I meet her look with an encouraging one. She takes a deep breath, releasing through her mouth quickly before turning back to my mother and the computer with a wide smile.
She clicks on the space bar, sending the screen from the opening slide to our first plan.
