by Chant, Zoe
The law side had the historical society building, which was a genuinely gorgeous house that Matthew reckoned must be well over 150 years old, and a few other houses that he thought might still be residential. The 'order' side had what was no doubt the pastor's home, and more obviously residential houses. Both sides of the square were lined with businesses ranging from the toy store to a small, independent bookstore, a sewing shop, green grocer, butcher—things that made Virtue seem homey, somehow. They were all prettily presented, too, with bright pastels, deep porches, and second floors that were in some cases clearly apartments, and in others, seemed to be part of the stores. Matthew walked the whole square, convinced he could get a decent day's workout just doing that a couple of times, and stopped to peer into a lot of shop windows.
At least half a dozen of the storefronts were closed, and none of them were the bar that Sarah had mentioned being bought recently for renovation. He made a guess as to which shop was going to be Mabs's massage clinic, and went around a corner looking for the bar.
He found it a block down on the law side of the square, taking up a comfortable corner across from a house that looked a little neglected. Matt felt a complex pang of regret at the idea that he wasn't going to be around to have a beer there when it opened. Regardless, it helped orient him. If Sarah had been literal about her description, it meant the street in front of the courthouse was Main Street, even though he didn't see any signs saying so. Presumably everybody in Virtue knew which street was which through osmosis, and it was a subtle way of letting strangers know this wasn't their town. Matthew felt like he had secret insider knowledge, which was strangely pleasing.
On his second loop around the square he remembered Sarah had called the other main street 'Church Street', and thought maybe he wasn't all that clever for figuring out which was Main Street after all, since Church Street went right past...the church.
He felt like he had insider knowledge anyway, and barely refrained from saying, "So there," out loud as he went for coffee. It was nearly ten, and he wanted to surprise Sarah with the mocha she liked. On the way he found an elementary school that had obviously had a lot of restoration effort put into keeping its entrance an old-fashioned little red schoolhouse. A more modern building now spread out behind the one-room schoolhouse that had probably served the community for decades.
On the way back he realized the back half of the elementary school property held the high school property, and that the street between the shops and the schools was cunningly called School Road. There were more homes on that side, and fewer businesses mixed with the residences than off Main Street. By the time he got back to the historical society building, mocha in hand, he felt like he had a decent idea of Virtue's layout.
Sarah awaited him on the historical society building's front steps. He handed over the mocha, saying, "This really is a great little town, isn't it? It's really pretty."
"This mocha is pretty," she said, star-struck. "Are you real?"
Matthew looked around, as if something might indicate to him that he wasn't. "I think so?"
"I'm not sure you are. You've known me three days and brought me coffee two of them. Which is my awkward way of saying thank you." Sarah smiled up at him, and Matthew thought he'd probably walk five miles barefoot through snow, uphill both ways, to see that smile every morning.
That's because she's your mate, his bear said impatiently.
Another pang shot through Matthew, taking his breath away. I know. But how am I supposed to tell her that? 'Hi, I'm a shapeshifter and I instinctively know I'm supposed to be with you, but also I'm leaving in a month, sorry!'? Give me some time to figure this out, Oso. I don't know what to do.
The bear harrumphed as Sarah sat on the steps to savor her mocha. "Marion always makes great mochas, but I think they're even better when someone brings one to you. Especially when you've stayed up half the night rooting through the internet to see if there's anything about your home town's quirks. There's nothing," she added with lifted eyebrows, as Matt sat as close to her as he thought was polite. "Virtue has a twenty-year-old town website, and I think that's on purpose, in order to keep people from wanting to visit."
"Hasn't stopped the developers from noticing it, though."
Sarah pointed at him dramatically. "See, I'd say that's a flaw in the 'keep it outdated' argument. It makes it look like nobody cares. If there was a shiny modern website extolling Virtue's, uh, virtues..." She trailed off into laughter, and Matt grinned at his own coffee cup. "Anyway," she said briskly, "a modern website might say there are people here dedicated to keeping the old-new-world charm of the place intact, and thus help to dissuade movement from developers!"
Matthew slid a suspicious, amused glance at her. "I'm going out on a limb here, but...did you build the town website twenty years ago?"
Outraged guilt flew across her face before she laughed again. "How did you know? It was cutting edge at the time, but they took it away from me! Job for grownups, blah blah blah."
"So you've always been like this," he said, delighted. "You're amazing, Sarah."
"But?"
His eyebrows shot up. "No 'but.' You're just amazing."
"Oh." Sarah ducked her head with a shy smile. "Thanks. Usually there's a but. 'Thank you for all your hard work, Sarah, but you're twelve and an adult should be running the Virtue website.' 'We did need somebody to organize the phone tree, but you didn't have to.' 'You did such a good job, but when do you sleep, Sarah?' Like that. Sometimes it makes you wonder if it's really a compliment."
"Well." Matthew considered. "You did just tell me you were up half the night doing internet searches, so I can see where 'but when do you sleep' might be a concern...."
"I don't usually do that," Sarah said defensively. "Usually I hit the sack at about ten and don't move again for eight hours. I just see things that need to be done, and it's easier to do them myself than wrangle other people."
"Do you ever take a break?"
"I appear to be extremely terrible at that."
Matthew squinted thoughtfully. "All right. Forget archiving. My summer project is to help Sarah Ekstrom learn how to say no and or take a break before she burns out and the whole town goes up in flames without her."
"Right after we've figured out the mystery of the missing charter."
A grin split Matthew's face. "Right after that."
They finished their coffee and Sarah let them into the historical society house, then went straight out the back door to get a ladder from the shed. "The reason nobody does anything with the attic is because dragging a ladder up two flights of stairs so you can climb in to the attic is more effort than anybody wants to bother with," she called over her shoulder. Matthew ran after her to help carry the ladder, and with a minimum of grunting, swearing, and property damage, they got the ladder up the stairs.
"So you're telling me there's going to be a lot of dust and spiders up there," Matt said once they had it situated.
Sarah—predictably, once he thought about it—whipped out a couple of dust masks and plastic goggles from the purse she carried. "There are dust smocks downstairs, if we need them, and I've got both cotton and rubber gloves."
"Remind me to stick with you in the apocalypse," Matthew said, astonished.
"Don't, I can't grow anything and I know how to sew but not how to spin or make fabric." Sarah put her glasses and mask on, which somehow had the effect of making her even more adorable, gave him two thumbs up, and climbed the ladder to push the attic door open while he looked on, bemused.
Well. Bemused at her statement. Quite taken with the view, really. She was in another pair of those snugly-fitted, calf-length cotton pants, and Matthew could have stood there watching her all day. After she'd disappeared into the attic, he shook himself, said, "Actually, I know how to spin," and followed her up.
She was waiting at the top with a look of pure astonishment. "You do?"
"A lot of the old traditions were still kept in La Caminata. Mostly grandp
arents still knew how to spin and weave, and the younger generations were less interested in it, but mi abuela actually taught me when I was really little. I'm not good at it, but I can do it."
"That is amazing." Sarah's smile could light up the whole attic. "If you can keep plants alive, we might have a shot during the apocalypse."
Matthew made a face. "I can grow potatoes."
"It's a start. All right, let's...man. This is..."
"A lot," Matthew suggested as they looked over the attic.
Sunlight flooded in through windows at either end, but no one had ever installed electric lighting up here. There were boxes, chests, a rocking horse, picture frames, more boxes, and innumerable of dusty cobwebs spread, stacked, and tucked everywhere. Matt put his mask and glasses on while Sarah looked around in dismay. "I don't know the last time someone was up here," she said. "I don't know if I've ever been up here."
"Well, this box says 'library' on it, suggesting it should have gone to the library," Matt said, after pushing a couple of boxes around to see if they were marked. "I know it's probably crazy, but we could start with it."
"Oh, no. I think we should definitely root through at least seventy other boxes first, before finding that one and going 'OMG, how did this escape our notice?!'"
"Oh, well, in that case..." Matthew pretended to push the box back into place. Sarah laughed and they both sat down, cross-legged, on opposite sides of the box to go through it.
Ten minutes later, with paperwork and small books spread all around them, Sarah said, "Well, I guess it couldn't have been that easy, huh?" She dragged another box from that pile while Matthew began carefully putting the materials from the first one away. They took breaks through the morning, drinking water and wiping dusty sweat away, but by mid-afternoon, they were both sure they weren't going to find what they were looking for. "We could keep going," Sarah said finally, "but honestly, I think it would've been in the first boxes if it was here at all."
"So to the Barlows, huh?"
"Yeah." Sarah pulled an arm across her sweaty brow, smearing dust and making her look impossibly cute. "Yeah, I think so. We should still finish going through all of this, but maybe not today. I don't know, Matt. On one hand, I know the Virtue archives aren't enormous, but on the other, I'm thinking I wish I had you for a year instead of just a month."
Matthew's heart seized and he dropped his gaze, trying to find his way through what he knew he felt, and how it conflicted with plans he'd spent years working toward. "I wish you did too," he said, his voice tight. "But the library job is a chance in a lifetime. People don't move on casually from working there."
"Oh, no, I know. I didn't mean to pressure you or anything. It'd just...be nice." Her tone was surprisingly wistful. Matthew had to quell the urge to pull her into his arms and promise that it would be okay.
Not that he thought she would object if he did, aside from the fact that they were both sweaty, dusty messes. But Sarah didn't strike him as the type for summer romances. She was a homebody, part and parcel of Virtue, as it was part and parcel of her. There had to be somebody terrific for her who was here, or who would stay...
...and it was absurd that the idea gave him an angry flush of envy. Sarah deserved someone who could be with her, and—fated mate or not—he didn't see how he could. Even if he wanted to, and part of him did. Of course part of him did. He'd never met anyone like her, and the truth was, he might never again. Matt had never heard of fate lining up more than one mate for a shifter.
But he'd never heard of a shifter for whom finding a mate might also mean giving up everything else they'd ever dreamed of. I thought this was supposed to be easy, he said again to his bear, and this time, at least, Oso seemed to have some confused sympathy for him.
There are other jobs, the bear said uncertainly.
I know. But for me this job is the brass ring. It's everything. Matthew glanced at Sarah and his shoulders dropped. Almost everything.
His bear felt worried. Matt couldn't remember it ever being worried for him before. Exasperated, impatient, amused, pleased, yes: all of that. But not worried. It will be all right, the bear said, and Matthew had the sense of it curling around him, like a parent protecting a cub.
Matthew, a little comforted, took a deep breath and managed a smile for Sarah. "Yeah. It would be kind of nice. Hell of a commute, though."
Sarah chuckled, much more able to let go of the idea of him staying in Virtue than Matt himself seemed to be. "True that. Okay. I vote we go get lemonade and some lunch, and I'll call the old families and see if anybody's up for a visitor this afternoon. After a shower. How's that sound?"
Matthew bit his tongue on asking if the shower was a communal affair. Instead he concentrated on saying, "Somehow everything you suggest sounds like a great idea. Where do we get lemonade in these parts?" and followed Sarah out of the attic to find out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Kate's Cafe, which was open from 11am-2pm six days a week, made spectacularly good sandwiches, even better lemonade, and served cookies with milk for dessert. That was the cafe's schtick. Sarah had yet to have a lunch there that didn't emphasize the wisdom in choosing one thing to do, and doing it really, really well.
They'd washed their hands and faces before coming in, and had worn the dust aprons, but they were both still pretty grimy. About eleven people stopped by their table to tell them so while Sarah unhinged her jaw to cram a Dagwood of a ham, turkey, bacon, cheese, lettuce, tomato and toast sandwich into her mouth. She made agreeable greeting noises around the massive bites while people chatted with Matthew, who was cutting his sandwich with a knife and fork, and putting normal-sized bites into his mouth.
Sarah thought that was delightfully odd, but had to admit it was much, much tidier than her approach. When there was a break in the people stopping by, she nodded at his knife and fork. "Does everybody do that in Argentina?"
Matthew paused with a bite part way to his mouth, looked at his plate and carefully-cut sandwich, then raised his gaze with an actual blush mounting in his cheeks. "No. It's just me. I hate messy sandwiches. When you bite in but can't get your teeth through all of it, so some of the food comes out and slaps you on the chin? I really, really hate it."
Sarah thought her smile must look dippy and infatuated. "That's..." It was adorable. She couldn't help it. Her smile kept getting bigger.
Matthew sighed. "Ridiculous. I know. I just really hate it."
"No! I was going to say it's really cute! I never met anybody who was bothered by that before!"
"Well, now you have," Matt said ruefully, and took another tidy bite. A moment later someone else appeared to chat with him.
From Sarah's point of view, it appeared everybody in Virtue wanted to talk to him. Only partly because he was the most staggeringly handsome man to have come Virtue's way in...well, in its entire history, as far as Sarah was concerned. But certainly in a couple of years, assuming you didn't count Jake Rowly's return. Sarah didn't, because she remembered Jake gluing his nostrils together in 5th grade, which did not make him good romantic fantasy material, in her book.
Mostly, though, people wanted to talk to Matt because he was new, and they wanted to size him up as to where he belonged in Virtue. Never mind that he wasn't staying, although Sarah did mind, even if there wasn't any point in it. He was just so...nice. And thoughtful. And insanely good-looking, although that was more like a mind-boggling bonus on top of the thoughtfulness. And—
And none of that was important, really. He was leaving, so she had to remember all his amazing qualities were just something for her to appreciate from a distance, not to consider really important. In the grand scheme of her life, this sandwich was important, the daycare was important, talking to the Barlows was important, and Mabs's wedding was important. In the meantime, if all of Virtue wanted to chat with Matt, that was fine. Small town people generally either wanted to meet and categorize everybody who did more than pass through, or to pretend they didn't exist at all.
/> Matt was doing a good job making them want to know more. Every time someone stopped by, they went away smiling. A couple of older women gave Sarah approving nods and winks, like they thought she'd landed a good one. She couldn't help but agree, even if she hadn't actually landed him at all.
"You're good with people," she said when there was a lull in the passers-by. Well, when there was a lull and her mouth wasn't jammed full of sandwich.
"I'm not sure I am," he replied thoughtfully. "Not like you. I'm good at surface interactions like these ones, but the way that girl—Mirielle?—came up and started crying on you at dinner the other night? I don't think I've got that kind of relationship with anybody. I don't think I ever have."
"Do you wish you did?"
A touch of regret slipped across his handsome face, and he fiddled with his glasses a moment before meeting her gaze. "Sometimes. You're so embedded here. People obviously rely on you. I get hired because I'm good at my job, but not because I'm good for the community, sabés?"
Sarah echoed, "'Sabés,'" in a murmur, then held a finger up as Matthew took a breath to explain. "No, let me...that means 'you know', right? Tu sabes?"
"Correcta," he said with a smile. "Except in my dialect there's an extra accent on the e, sabés." Sarah repeated it, trying to get the inflection to sound like his, and Matt's smile bloomed again. "Bueno. But you, you're good for this whole town. Watching you here, watching how people interact with you...I'm in awe. You're genuinely amazing. I've never met anyone like you."
Sarah ducked her head, thrilled and a little embarrassed. The idea that a world-traveling, drop-dead-handsome man like Matthew thought she was amazing was...well...amazing. "Thanks."
Matthew reached across the table toward her hand, taking a breath like he wanted to say something, but the cafe door bells jangled as someone walked in, and his expression went strange. "Who's, ahk." The second sound was more of a cough than a word, like he'd swallowed a too-large bite only half chewed. He turned to look at the man who'd just walked in, then took a sip of lemonade before trying again. "Who's that?"