Page 10 of More With You

“Ms. T!” I stare at her, hating how high-pitched and eager I sound.

She grins. “Of course he didn’t ask about no sturgeon. Once he knew I was part of your inner circle, he goes and asks me for your number.” She straightens up, puffing out her considerable chest. “Of course, I tell him I don’t give out that kind of information. Oh, it was tempting, though, considerin’ he’s the first nibble I’ve seen on your hook since you got here. But there’s no breakin’ through the defenses of book-buyer, bookseller confidentiality.” She glances at me out of the corner of her eye, probably trying to gauge my reaction. As if the high-pitched squeak isn’t enough of a hint that I like the guy.

As I let her words sink in, my thoughts run the emotional gamut: exhilaration that he came to this bookstore after one subtle mention of my love for reading; a bit of disappointment that Ms. T stuck to her guns; a hefty dose of flattery that he didn’t think I was insane for letting fate decide if we should see each other again, and actually went out of his way to look for me. Then, the sinking stone of anxiety, right in the pit of my stomach, that I might’ve missed my shot. After coming so close and getting nowhere, maybe he’d decided that fate wasn’t on his side, and decided to give up.

I expel a defeated exhale and offer a small smile to hide my real feelings. “He could’ve been a weirdo stalker for all you knew. You did the right thing, Ms. T.”

After all, I’m not a serial dater. I’m not any kind of dater. How was Ms. T to know that this guy might’ve been the real deal? I mean, Levi could’ve smarmed his way in here and asked the same questions—then, where would I have been? I’d probably be on my way to the hardware store to set up booby traps and barricades.

“No need for a long face.” Ms. T elbows me lightly in the side. “I did get his number.” She pops up and practically vogues toward the counter, where she plucks something from a wooden keepsake box that sits between the register and a jar of enamel pins that look like tiny books. “That boy is handsome as all get out. I wasn’t just gonna let him wriggle away from you, hon,” she says, fanning herself with the folded piece of paper that she has poised between her forefingers.

My emotions rebound from despondent to elated in the flutter of that wafted bit of paper, and I’m not even trying to hide the goofy smile on my face, since Ms. T can sniff out a romance from fifty miles away. I jump up and hurry toward her, grabbing the piece of paper. No snatching, though. I’m excited, not devoid of manners.

“I’ve been waitin’ for this day.” Ms. T dances a little jig as I unfold the paper and look over the handwriting. “Ben” is written in neat cursive, lightyears away from my spider scrawl, while the numbers underneath are bigger and etched in stronger strokes. Like they carry the subtext of, “Call me.” There’s no area code, but since he said he’s lived here all his life, I presume it’s the original area code. Same as Ms. T’s. Weirdly, I’m endeared that he left off those three numbers: it feels simpler and more old-school, somehow. Also like Ms. T.

“Let’s call him now!” Ms. T gives me an encouraging bump with her rounded hip. “No time to be wastin’!”

I shake my head in horror. “What? No! I can’t… it’s… I wouldn’t know… I mean…” I flounder for the right words, suddenly terrified of the rectangle of plastic and glass in my back pocket. My grandma used to warn me not to keep my phone there, or it’d get stolen, but I guess I’ve relaxed some of her rules since coming to live here.

“Look at me, gettin’ all carried away, frightenin’ the daylights out of you!” Ms. T can obviously tell I’m flustered and immediately backs off. It’s one of the things I like the most about her: her personality is big, but she’s never too much. “You call him when you’re ready.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Ms. T.”

“But don’t you wait too long, hon,” she adds, in a gentle voice that still manages to carry the weight of her matriarchal authority. “You don’t want to let that boy get away. I’ve known him all his life, and he’s a keeper if ever I’ve seen one. Not too many of those around these parts, unless you know where to look.”

I slip the piece of paper into my pocket. “You know him?”

“Of course, hon.” She rolls her eyes in a “don’t you know who I am?” kind of way. “Used to come here all the time when he was knee-high to a grasshopper. He’d pay his fifty cents for a comic book and take it into one of those corners over there. Silent as a mouse, he’d be, ‘til his mama came callin’ for him. Haven’t seen him for a while, though, so I didn’t clock who he was ‘til I rang his fishin’ book up. I know I shouldn’t, but I’m always readin’ the names on credit cards. I was born nosey, I’ll die nosey.”

I laugh, seizing a valuable opportunity. “What can you tell me about him? Might as well benefit from your superior knowledge about everyone and everything in this town.” Honestly, I’m not sure why I didn’t come to her first about Ben, to satisfy my curiosity.

“Nope.” She taps her nose. “That’s for me to know and you to find out, from the boy himself. Though, there is a price for me gettin’ that number for you.”

I frown, a little disappointed. “A price?”

“I want details. All the details, as and when there are details to be had,” she replies, chuckling. “So, like I said, don’t you leave it too long, hon.”

I swipe my purse off the counter. “I won’t, Ms. T, though I can’t promise we’ll make it into the romance section.”

“As long as you don’t end up in horror or self-help, you’ll be fine,” she assures with a smile, as I head for the door.

It’s not cheating fate if I phone him after he tracked me down, is it? Buzzing with nervous anticipation, I hop on my bike, wondering what the heck I’m going to do next. To call or not to call, that was the question.

BEN

I’ve done all I can do. At least, I think I have. Ms. T didn’t say that Summer had left town, so that’s got to be a good sign. You know, it’s not easy to search for a woman who I’m not sure wants to be found, but now, I guess, I’ve just got to wait. Or, I wait but keep looking. Yeah, I should probably do both.

At first, I wasn’t sure about all this fate business. It felt more frustrating than anything else, especially after meeting a woman like her. A woman I wanted to know more about. Maybe that was the point, to pique my interest. Hey, after a night like that, with all that confrontation with Levi, I’d probably want some divine intervention with anyone else who came along. I definitely can’t blame her, and it’s a pretty unique way of seeing if we’re… right for each other. I don’t know how else to explain it.

Anyway, I’m glad it’s starting to feel like I’m being led in the right direction. When I walked into that bookstore, I knew I was in the right place. I knew I’d found her, or come close, anyway. It’s a funny story, really—I was searching the cafés, coffee shops, restaurants, gift shops, casinos, when I saw this little girl pleading with her mom to get a new book. A second later, this memory hit me like a ton of bricks. Summer told me, on the beach that night, that she spends most of her time reading on her back porch. Now, I still don’t know where that back porch is, but I figured there were only a few places she could get a hold of her books.

Summer, I searched them all. I should’ve known you wouldn’t settle for anything less than the best, and Ms. Thibodeaux is the reigning queen of literature. Man, I remember her from when I was a kid, and I used to sneak away from my mom when she was shopping. I say “sneak,” but she’d always know where to find me, so I suppose I wasn’t very good at it. Honestly, I can’t believe how little Ms. T has changed. She’s still got that booming laugh, the red lipstick, and her hairstyle hasn’t changed a bit. The lipstick used to scare me, especially when a bit would smear on her teeth, like she was a vampire that’d just had lunch. I used to want to tell her, but I was way too shy back then. So, I’d just take my comic book and sit in the corner until my mom came to get me. But Ms. T wasn’t the kind of person who’d peer over your shoulder, asking a thousand questions. She’d just let me be, which is probably why I kept going back there, week after week.

I guess it makes sense that Summer ended up there, too. Ms. T’s place is comfort personified. So is she, to be honest, and it’s certainly made me believe in this fate thing. Why else would Summer go to the bookstore that was pretty much my only sanctuary as a kid, and befriend the person who used to make it feel like a sanctuary? It’s pretty crazy, actually, now that I think about it. I just hope it does eventually lead me back to Summer.

Ms. T assured me that she’d give Summer my number, and I’ve got no reason not to believe her. She knows I’m not a Levi. Plus, there was this glint of excitement in Ms. T’s eyes that probably matched mine, when I said Summer’s name. It’s like I knew she would know, you know?

The trouble is, I don’t know if calling is breaking the “rules.” Will it be enough that I’ve left her my number? If it is, how long will I have to wait to hear her voice again? I’ve never missed the sound of a voice before, especially from someone I’ve only met once. Is that weird, or is it another sign that this is a good thing I shouldn’t let go of?

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