by Nina Bocci
I glanced at my watch. It was nearly eight and the roads were getting awful. Granted, I had no idea how to drive in the snow, but considering their median age was seventy, I didn’t think it was safe for them on the roads, either.
“Okay, what type of questions?” I asked, wondering what the meeting that I interrupted was about.
They began whispering among themselves.
“Sorry we’re being rude, it’s not every day that a California girl drops in on Hope Lake. Especially out of the blue. We’re used to the New Yorkers or the Philly crowd. Glowing and tan at the end of November isn’t a common appearance in this neck of the woods,” the one woman said, her voice raspy and strong which was at odds with her fragile appearance in her bright red wheelchair. “I’m Dr. Imogen Bishop, but call me Gigi, everyone in town does.”
I leaned forward in the chair, angling the folded blanket awkwardly over my tanned, bare legs. Not my smartest move when I boarded the plane, but I was expecting mild fall not frozen tundra. “Gigi,” I began, smiling at her Rolling Stones t-shirt she had underneath a thick cardigan sweater. “Nice to meet you. How’d you figure California?”
With a glint in her eye, she, too, leaned forward, albeit slowly, given her difficulty in her wheelchair. “Sun-kissed hair with beachy waves, sparkling eyes, and a late-fading tan. And you’re wearing shorts in November. Screams California girl. Am I wrong?”
I shook my head. “Correct. Born and raised in San Francisco. I’m impressed.”
She preened. “It’s a gift.”
“More like a party trick,” Yellow Tracksuit said. “Give her a minute, she’ll have you pegged for dating status, employment, and who knows what else.”
“Impressive trick, Gigi. What else can you tell me?” Leaning back, I covered up with the blanket again and folded my hands over my crossed legs.
Her sharp gray eyes started at my wayward hair, easing over my face, where she paused just a moment before carrying on. She spent an inordinate amount of time on my hands, which made them sweat a bit under her scrutiny. There was no way that this woman, Gigi, who had to be in her eighties, would squirrel out anything about me outside of what my sunny appearance gave away.
She took a deep breath, and the others leaned in. Tracksuit had a devilish smirk and placed a five-dollar bill on the small table in front of them that was strewn with used mismatched coffee cups and plates filled with crumbs and forks. The other three followed suit, each tossing five bucks onto the table.
“Should I put in a fiver, too?” I asked, reaching for my pocket.
Tracksuit smiled. “Sure if you’d like. It’s just a bit of a side hustle that we do when Gigi does her little trick. The money goes into the pot for beer and pizza night over at Casey’s.”
Nodding, and a bit taken aback that they have a pizza and beer night at their age, I threw the money on the counter and sat back. “Ready when you are, Gigi.”
She looked wildly confident with her round, bright green glasses and sharp eyes twinkling behind them. She smiled before rubbing her chin. “You said San Francisco, but I don’t quite think you were raised there. Somewhere on the outskirts, perhaps. Berkley? No, Stanford for college, I think. English major but possibly anthropology. I don’t think journalism, but it could be. I can’t narrow it down. You’re a researcher or a writer, or want to be a writer. Recently single, and while not ready to mingle, you’re not opposed to it. Only child, parents are supportive but disappointed you’re not a lawyer.”
I snorted. “Judge, actually. Both of my folks are lawyers in Palo Alto. They had their hopes on a SCOTUS seat someday. Stanford, both English and anthropology. Travel writer, and you’re a damn marvel.”
The woman in the tracksuit guffawed. “Never fails. I swear we can take this act on the road,” she said.
Gigi laughed. “It’s a gift, and, no, Suzanne, you’re a shitty driver. We can’t take anything on the road.”
“Well, I’m impressed,” the one who had met me in the snow said. She appeared to be the youngest of the three and just as hilariously outfitted as the other two. “I’m Sophia, and I recently lost my license, so I’m not driving, either.”
“That’s a story I’d like to hear,” I said honestly.
“Short version is that I’m also a terrible driver.”
Sophia stood, walked over, and shook my hand. “Since our little show-and-tell is over, maybe we can have a normal conversation and you can give us a little something yourself? Like, your name?”
I turned to Gigi. “Any guesses?”
She laughed, zipping the chair over to my side of the shop. “No, pulling names out of thin air is a little too Las Vegas for my parlor tricks. I’m just observant. Nice to meet you.”
I shook her hand gently. “That was more than observant, it was crystal-ball level magic,” I said, standing and letting the blanket fall to the chair. “I’m Camille. It’s nice to meet you, too.”
“So, Camille, what brings you to Hope Lake?” Tracksuit asked. She was cleaning up the table, bringing cups to the area behind the counter.
“I think it’s interesting how people show up in Hope Lake these days,” Sophia said.
“Really? Why’s that?” I asked, pulling out my phone and opening the notes app. It was never too early to get a base for the article. The senior circuit was always known for spreading choice gossip, and I had a feeling that this particular band of girlfriends spilled the best tea.
“Oh, well let’s see,” Sophia began, adjusting the pillow at her back. Before she spoke, she looked side to side as if she were about to whisper state secrets.
“Charlotte, the florist, she owns that shop right over there,” she said, pointing behind me.
I turned to see where she was pointing to. Across the way was another shop that boasted floor-to-ceiling glass windows identical to the ones here. Whereas this one had The Baked Nanas etched into the glass now that I knew what I was reading, those windows said Late Bloomers in a decorative font. You couldn’t see much of the shop itself because it was only lit by low security lighting.
“Charlotte, huh? What’s her story?” I asked eagerly. Upon hearing the conversation, Tracksuit made her way back over to her respective chair to listen in.
Let the tea spilling commence.
“I’ll take this one, Sophia,” Gigi said, zipping her chair back over to my side. She looked longingly at the shop behind me, her eyes brimming with tears. “The Charlotte in question is Charlotte Bishop,” she said with a small smile at her lips. “My granddaughter.”
“I see. So, her story is interesting enough to share?” I asked, trying not to sound too eager. Sure, I was a travel writer, but getting quirky anecdotes for a story was just as good as anything. They gave heart and humanity to the article so it wouldn’t just be the dos and don’ts of the town, what to see, where to eat. Otherwise, if I didn’t use it for the article, I would squirrel the information away for the book—a women’s fiction romance about a woman traveling to find herself. I supposed it could have been an auto-biograpahy.
“I don’t want to pry, of course.”
Gigi nodded sagely. “You’re not prying. If you spend twenty seconds or more in town, you’ll hear about her. Charlotte left as a young girl, and only returned a couple years ago. Needless to say, it was quite the entrance back. That’s what they meant by an interesting return. There have been many people—Charlotte, Reese, Parker—have came for odd reasons and yet have all ended up staying.”
The other two nodded in agreement.
“It all worked out in the end. She’s engaged to her sweetie. They have quite the love story. He owns the bookstore across the square there, and he’s a teacher up at the high school,” Tracksuit pointed into the swirling storm. “You’ll meet him when he comes to pick us up in a bit.”
“That reminds me, is Charlotte going to be doing the flowers for the event next week?”
And I lost them. They continued making plans and chatting as if I was already part of their group.
Which again felt like a testament to small-town life. They included you, even as a stranger.
I held up my hand like I was a schoolgirl trying to get the teacher’s attention. It felt rude, but they were all rambling, and I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
“I’m sorry, if I can interrupt for a moment. I feel impossibly rude, but aside from Sophia, and Gigi, I don’t know your name. In my head, I’m calling you Tracksuit,” I said, pointing to the unknown woman with the jet-black hair and bright pink lipstick.
The woman that I was mentally referring to as Tracksuit guffawed so loudly that I was convinced someone could have heard the sound over the blustering winds outside. “New nickname, girls—Tracksuit!”
Grateful that she wasn’t mad, I laughed at the fact that they referred to themselves as girls. Though, I suppose they were in their own minds. My friends at home had girls’ nights once a month, and we were all over forty.
“I saw your other compatriots leaving earlier. You mentioned a meeting?”
Sophia, piped up. “We all have a hand, or two in something around Hope Lake, including The Baked Nanas. I’m also mom to my amazing daughter, Emma, and Nonnie to an amazing little boy named Sebastian. My son-in-law, Cooper, is the mayor, and my husband is the former mayor.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s not all about you, Sophia,” Tracksuit teased and carried on as if she hadn’t been interrupted. “Gigi, she was the town doc for what, a hundred years or so, and now her son is the current doctor,” she said, and then she puffed up her chest and smiled. “And I’m Suzanne Mancini, but you only get to call me Mancini or Tracksuit from now on, and while I don’t have a job, per se, I’m in everyone’s business,” she said, with a smile.
“That sounds like a full-time job to me, Mancini,” I said, hoping to keep the conversation coming from them and not have it aimed at me, but that wish was not granted.
“So,” Gigi said, driving her wheelchair back over to the ladies. They sat a bit like a three-person jury, all lined up facing me as if I were their witness.
“Is this where you gang up on me and lull me into submission, so I expose all my little flaws and secrets?”
Gigi looked affronted, resting her hand against her throat. “Now, dear. Do we look like we would do that?”
I gave them all a solid once-over. They weren’t short on the adorable looks that you got from the elderly. Sweet smiles, and glassy tear-filled eyes but these ladies were pros and I loved it. Underneath it all, they seemed to love their gossip.
Who didn’t?
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“You’re right, we’ll pester and poke until you give in. Sometimes, it’s just easier to confess everything all at once,” Sophia encouraged.
“Well, that’s a bit of a story. Funnily enough, I came here for a story, and to finish a book, and that’s about all the dirty details I have.” I took a sip of my now-cool cocoa.
“How did you end up here? Not in Hope Lake, but here.”
I smiled. “My phone died, and with it, so did the directions to the B&B I booked a room at. Since sleeping in my car in the middle of a snowstorm wasn’t high on my list of things to check off, I followed the lights thinking something here would be open and I could ask for help.”
“We want to hear how you chose Hope Lake of all places, but we also need to get you to the B&B and adjusted to east coast time. Where is your car?” Maninci asked.
I stood and walked toward the front door. “Over there, um, somewhere?” I pointed generically toward the square where I left the rental. Even from the distance, I could see that it was covered in snow. “It’s not exactly a stellar snow vehicle. I probably should have just kept driving until I found it, but I’ve never driven in the snow.”
Gigi pulled out her iPhone and tapped away quickly. “We’ll get you there, don’t worry. You can leave the car there, and someone will get it for you tomorrow after the roads get plowed. For now, we’ll drive you.”
“Don’t fret, you’ll be fine, if you’re worried about traveling. It’s not very far, and we’ve got big trucks, snow tires and chains,” Mancini explained. “We’ll grab whatever luggage you’ve got and take that over, too. In case you can’t get out tomorrow, either. We’re expected to get quite a bit of snow the next couple days. So, better not leave anything in the car.”
“You’re going to drive? In this?” My eyes widened, thinking of how they’d just told me they were awful drivers.
“Heavens, no.” Mancini tapped away on her own phone. “We have that covered. Our boyfriends come to pick us up.”
“This I have to see,” I mumbled and began rearranging the chairs in an effort to make myself useful. I had no idea where anything went, so I followed Sophia’s lead.
“They’re outside,” Gigi said, zipping over to the coat rack in the corner and pulling off the thick wool coat on the very bottom hook.
“You can ride with Reese. He’ll make sure to grab your things from the rental car and get you all situated over at the B&B.” Mancini ushered us toward the door, throwing my still-damp coat toward me. “Keep the sweater, you’re going to need it!”
Once I got outside, I realized it was still snowing. While I was pulling on the coat, I miscalculated my next step and the amount of snow. Before I knew it, I ended up falling right into the arms of a tall, Black man that gave strong Idris Elba vibes, who caught me easily before I could slide across the snowy sidewalk.
Chapter Two
“Woah there. Watch the ice,” he quipped. It wasn’t the smoothest of lines, but, I laughed regardless. He made sure I was steady before removing his hands. “Good?” he asked, smoothing his gloved hand across his chin.
“I am, thanks,” I said. “Thanks for the save.”
His mouth turned up in a half-smile. “My pleasure. I’ll be back for you in a second. I have to secure the precious cargo.” He gently moved me to the side and joined two other men that were near the sidewalk. Gigi, in her motorized chair, waited patiently for the handsome man with a beard to open the door to a Jeep that boasted four massive tires.
“Is that her granddaughter’s boyfriend?” I asked Mancini who was standing beside me, holding onto my arm for support.
“Yes, that’s Henry. He and Charlotte live with Gigi in the big house. Usually she likes to go with Nick, he’s the one over there in the pickup truck and the ridiculous light bar on the front.”
I looked to where she pointed. A large, silver pick up truck with monster tires and chains wrapped around them was next to the curb. The front bumper was lined with bright spot lights as if it was about to drive into the jungle at night.
“That’s absurd but also it seems sort of fun in a silly way.”
Mancini nodded. “That’s why Gigi likes to go with him. His horn is loud and goofy, the light inside used to be a disco light but Chief Birdy told him it was a distraction so he had to take it out.”
“So they’re here to take you guys home?”
“Yes. We’re so grateful. We’d be miserable if we had to stay home everytime it snows. Now listen,” she said, turning to me. The other two were securely in the vehicles, Gigi with Henry and Sophia with Nick. That left Mancini and I.
“Are we going with him?” I asked, pointing to the man striding toward us. The same who had saved me from falling on my rear earlier.
Mancini winked. “No, Gigi and I live next door to each other so I’ll hitch a ride with little Henry,” she said, pointing to the man who was well over six feet.
“He’s little?”
She ignored me and held up a finger to the gentleman. He stopped a few feet a way giving us a bit of privacy.
“Reese will get you to the B&B safe and sound and we’ll check in tomorrow to see what you’re up to and get the rest of your story. How long are you staying for?” she asked and waved the man over. I assumed the man was Reese.
“About a month, give or take. I don’t really have definite plans,” I said. The book could take a month, or five to complete.
“Oh, open-ended plans. Those are our favorite kinds,” she exclaimed and clapped her hands gleefully. “Remember I’m Mancini to you, or Tracksuit!”
She laughed the entire way to the car, and when the man she referred to as Nick helped her up into Henry’s truck, she gave him a big, loud kiss on his cheek.
The temperature had dipped to a biting degree, making it worse when the wind picked up.
“Well, they are certainly prepared,” I said absently, pulling my borrowed sweater tighter around my chest.
Reese tapped his heavy boots together like Dorothy trying to return home. “Yes, the ladies are persistent to put it mildly. They want what they want and frankly, I’m not big enough of a man to tell them no.”
He looked plenty big from where I was standing—broad shoulders and a fit body, even beneath the heavy sweater and thick coat. I was on the taller side, and he had at least six inches or more on me.
“Ready?” he asked with a smile.
“I guess it’s just us?”
He nodded, a small smile lifting his lips. Handsome. It was a simple word to describe a man, but sometimes, it was all you needed. Thick dark eyebrows framed his expressive deep brown eyes, that glinted in the streetlights. He wasn’t freshly shaven, instead his dark skin sported a bit of a grey and black shadow on his angular jaw.
“No gloves?” he asked, and immediately pulled his off and stuffed them onto my hands. “Come on, the B&B isn’t that far but we have to go toward the lake and none of those roads have been plowed yet.
“How do you know?” I asked. “Do you live over that way?”
He laughed, deep and raspy. “You can say that. I’m Maxwell, but I prefer Max. Reese is just what my girls call me.”
My girls.
I held out my now-gloved hand. “Nice to meet you, Maxwell Reese. I’m Camille. But you can call me Cami.”
As we started walking, I tried not giving him a once-over, but we were the only two people on an otherwise deserted sidewalk and his profile was definitely nice to admire.