Where You Least Expect

by Lydia Rowan

  Just thinking about it had the power to inspire a fresh wave of tears, to make no mention of the stinging tug in her chest, which was sad given that she’d replayed the image on a loop for what now felt like forever. The impact hadn’t lessened a bit.

  “Oh God, I don’t know if I can do this.” She looked away from Blakely, the tug in her chest morphing into a full-blown ache, and the rush of shame and hurt intensifying until it was almost unbearable. Talking about this out loud seemed like a huge step, gave the whole thing a finality that she’d wanted to avoid. But best to stop avoiding it; maybe once she did, the pain would fade and she’d be able to move on. She glanced over at Blakely, who stayed silent, waiting expectantly.

  “This probably has never happened to you, but has someone ever made you feel invisible, like you don’t matter at all?”

  “I know that situation well,” she said with a confirming nod.

  Verna was a little surprised. The other woman was still slightly terrifying, and though she considered her a friend, she couldn’t imagine anyone being brave enough to give her less than the utmost respect.

  “When I went to the bathroom, some stupid something made me go over and say hello, and he…” She trailed off and took a deep breath. “He ignored me, acted like I wasn’t even there.”

  Verna’s voice cracked on that last word, and her tears intensified again when she saw the look of utter horror, followed by sympathy, cross Blakely’s face.

  “Hmm. That’s unfortunate…” she said. “Is it possible you misinterpreted? Maybe he didn’t know you were there?” she asked, her voice not even slightly hopeful.

  She shook her head.

  “Didn’t think so. How positively assholeish.”

  “We gotta hang out more, Blake, so I can teach you how to swear,” Verna said, laughing through her tears.

  “And what did he have to say for himself?” she asked.

  “He apologized, sort of…”

  Blakely looked at her like she’d sprouted two heads.

  “Is this your roundabout way of defending him?”

  “No. Yes. Maybe. I don’t know.” Verna shrugged. “I mean, he’s a really good guy. The best, in fact, so I know that he wouldn’t be cruel—”

  “That was cruel, Verna,” Blakely said, interrupting.

  “It was.” Verna nodded her agreement. “But I don’t know, a part of me wonders if he just had a momentary lapse, like, I fuck up all the time and if people cut me off because of that, I’d never speak to another human. But another part…”

  “Yes?” Blakely said, Inquisition face back in full force. She’d missed her calling when she’d become an actuary. Verna couldn’t even imagine responding to that face with anything other than absolute truth, and she didn’t think many others would be able to either.

  “He is, I mean, he was, so awesome when we were together, awesome enough that I could pretend that we were having a real relationship…” She trailed off again. Talking about this was even harder than reliving that night. She’d barely even allowed herself to think of this, of what she’d hoped could grow between her and Joe, and saying it out loud, hearing how utterly ridiculous it was, took her breath away.

  “Anyway, it’s stupid. You’ve seen him, right? Soo not gonna happen. But, I don’t know, when we were together, it was just so easy to pretend it was more. He probably did me a favor, anyway. It’s not like he gave me any false hopes, and if I was dumb enough to let myself think we’d be strolling down Maple Street hand in hand one day, that’s on me. It’s just fucking ridiculous.”

  She swiped away a tear, her growing anger at herself at least alleviating some of her sadness.

  “I’m sorry, Verna,” Blakely said softly.

  “Don’t be,” she said with gusto she didn’t feel. “We had a thing; it ended. And it makes no difference at all that no one else will ever know about it. Now let’s try the gray one.”

  ••••

  Her gaze was drawn to the large, dark figure that crouched in front of her door and after a second glance, she realized it was Joe. She couldn’t help but be pleased that he seemed to be waiting for her. But just as quickly, she squelched the thought. It didn’t matter; whether he’d meant to or not, Joe had shown how he felt about her and these residual little fits of guilt would soon fade and he’d put whatever the hell the thing between them had been in the past where it belonged.

  And she would too. Eventually.

  “What are you doing, Joe?” she said as she walked to the door.

  He held up a piece of metal, and she stared down at it.

  “Is that my doorknob?” she asked.

  “Yeah, I’d been meaning to replace that lock for a while and I finally got around to it.”

  “How’d you get it open?”

  A smile, somewhere between sly and shy, crossed his face and he shrugged.

  “Oh,” she said, “you can pick locks?”

  He nodded.

  “Wow! I’m marginally impressed,” she exclaimed, and he responded with a laugh.

  “Thanks, I guess.”

  He stood and she stared up at him, the warmth that he always ignited spreading through her. But the memory of that night intruded like a splash of ice-cold water, and that warmth faded in an instant.

  “I appreciate your concern, but you should have checked with me first,” she said, not bothering to keep censure out of her voice.

  “Sorry, Verna. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

  She nodded curtly, but didn’t speak.

  “So, how’s your father?” he asked a moment later.

  “You’ve been looped into the Thornehill gossip grapevine?” He nodded. “I guess you’re officially a local now,” she said.

  He chuckled softly, but she could hear the ring of tension in his voice.

  “And my father’s okay. He had a little fender bender, but he’ll be fine.”

  The talk of her father made her feel even worse, something she hadn’t thought was possible, and she found herself continuing without giving it too much thought. “The doctor wants him to take a little time off, though. He asked me, or rather, told me to come back to the diner while he’s resting.”

  “And?” Joe said. “Are you going?”

  “No,” she said, and though she hadn’t thought she’d made up her mind before, she knew that she wouldn’t the moment she said the words aloud.

  “Good for you,” he said, and he reached out and patted her shoulder before he let his hand fall awkwardly to his side.

  “Sorry,” he said, and Verna felt tears spring up in her eyes, sad that even something as innocuous as that simple touch was now beyond them.

  “No worries. Good night, Joe,” she said and walked into her house.

  Chapter Nineteen

  At the knock on his front door, Joe jumped up and rushed over to it, thinking maybe it was Verna. But then he remembered that she’d left home not ten minutes earlier, so the chances were slim. Not that she’d come over here anyway. Oh, she kept up the pretense, waving and smiling, responding politely to his inquiries when pressed, but there may as well have been an alligator-filled moat between them. She’d even taken to parking inside her garage.

  Joe couldn’t think of anything else he’d so thoroughly fucked up, especially not something so important. And she was important; he knew that now. Verna meant more to him than anyone else ever had. He loved her.

  With that utterly depressing thought, he opened the door, surprised to see a woman he recognized from her visits to Verna—and from that night—on his doorstep. And even more surprised when she walked in without an invitation. He’d learned how different small towns were, but this was out of the ordinary, even for Thornehill Springs.

  “Ma’am…?”

  The woman whirled around to face him, and he was a bit taken aback by the ferocity on her face.

  “I don’t have a lot of time. I want to get out of here before Verna gets back.”

  “What is this about?” he asked, raising h
imself to his full height, not that the smaller woman paid him any mind.

  “Blakely Bishop.” She extended a hand, which he shook, though she looked less than pleased to formally make his acquaintance. “This is about how you’re going to fix the mess you created.”

  She stared him down, her gaze practically daring him to object.

  “Look, I don’t—”

  “Save it,” she said, and then she shook her head. “I probably shouldn’t be meddling, and quite frankly”—she eyed him suspiciously—“I haven’t decided whether you’re worth the effort, but she’s over the moon about you, and since you so clearly don’t have the smarts or will to do anything about it, I had to intervene.”

  Joe sagged against the door. “To tell the truth, I’m probably not worth the effort and I certainly don’t deserve a break,” he said after a moment.

  “But you care about her?”

  He lifted his gaze to the woman. “I do. Very much.”

  “Well, then, tell her!”

  “I’ve tried. She won’t listen.”

  “Try harder,” she said, her words echoing Poole’s.

  “I don’t know what else to do,” he admitted.

  “Get creative. Skulking around on your lawn long enough to say hi and bye isn’t going to cut it.”

  “Any ideas?” he tossed out.

  She gave him a long-suffering sigh and then smiled tightly.

  “Oh, I don’t know: think big. Do something crazy like apologize, grovel if need be, and then maybe ask her out on a date,” she said sarcastically.

  He wanted to be offended, but to his embarrassment he realized, as simple as it seemed now that she’d said it, he hadn’t considered the idea.

  “So it’s as easy as that, huh?”

  “I didn’t say it would be easy. She’d be well within her rights to turn you down cold, and probably should, at least as far as I’m concerned. But you won’t know until you try, will you?”

  She looked at her watch and then strode toward the door, shooing him out of her path. “Now get to work, and be quick about it,” she called over her shoulder as she left.

  ••••

  “We’re looking forward to partnering with you, Ms. Love,” the loan officer said, reaching across her desk to shake Verna’s hand as she stood.

  Verna stood and shook the offered hand, but she was light-headed, almost dizzy with the emotion that coursed through her. Or her Spanx might have been squeezing the air out of her; she couldn’t tell which. But whatever the cause, she was elated.

  “Thank you,” Verna said, managing to keep her tone professional.

  “We’ll be in touch with paperwork and have everything finalized in the next week or so,” the loan officer said.

  “Great.” Verna nodded. “It’s been a pleasure to meet you,” she said.

  And then she left the bank and walked toward her car. Floated was probably a more apt description. Verna could envision herself, decked out in the expertly sewn black suit, one she’d made for herself and specifically for this occasion, not a hair out of place. She imagined she projected the image of a smart, savvy businesswoman, something that now that she’d secured the necessary loans, she might be on her way to becoming.

  It was surreal, a feeling that stayed with her as she walked down Maple toward her parked car. She’d opted not to park in the bank’s lot, wanting to steal a few extra minutes to go over her proposal and figuring the walk over would help her conquer any residual nerves. Verna had agonized over writing a bulletproof business plan and had been skeptical that she’d secure the funding. But it had worked, and once the papers were signed, she’d officially be the new owner of La Femme.

  A little thrill went through her at the thought. It had started small, a little kernel of hope that, as she’d worked with Blakely and considered taking on more clients, had grown and grown until she couldn’t resist trying. She knew how hard it would be to run a small business, but she wasn’t afraid of the hard work. She could do this, was, in fact, well on her way. Her joy was like helium, light enough to make her float away. Only one thing held her to the ground.

  She didn’t have anyone to share her news with.

  That wasn’t technically true. She didn’t have Joe to share her news with. Blakely and Ariel would be ecstatic and so would Quinn. In truth, Joe probably would be too. But in that detached, neighborly way. Not in the way of the person who cared about her as more than a friend, the way of one who’d seemed, at least at times, like he thought her capable of anything.

  Think of the good, V, she said to herself, and really, all was good, better than she’d ever thought she’d have for herself, but still that melancholy hung like a specter in the background, haunting her happiness.

  And that was how she walked, wavering between pure joy and a bit of whimsical regret, pretty much ignoring the outside world.

  Awareness had the hair on the back of her neck standing at attention, and she turned sharply to the right, startled by Joe and his truck creeping beside her.

  “Motherfucker, Joe. How many times do I have to tell you to stop sneaking up on me!”

  He just smiled, a slow, lazy smile that made her think of that same expression on his face as he entered her, taking her with unhurried passion while she writhed beneath him, desperate for more. The sting in her chest at that thought made her eyes tear, but Joe didn’t seem to notice, or more likely chose to overlook them.

  “You out for a stroll?” he asked.

  “Something like that,” she responded, turning and beginning to walk away.

  “You look beautiful.”

  She looked back at him for a moment and then turned away.

  “Sun’s melted what was left of your brain, I see. Don’t know that it’s safe to be driving in that condition, Joey.”

  The words held an affection that she hadn’t wanted to reveal and that, more disturbingly, had come far too easy.

  “You’re right.”

  He parallel parked like a pro and got out.

  “Joe, you can’t park on Maple Street. Someone might hit your precious truck,” she said snidely.

  “The truck can be replaced; some other things can’t,” he said, coming to stand directly in front of her.

  She hadn’t been this close to him in what felt like forever, and the urge to throw her arms around him and hold him close was so strong, she had to ball her fingers into fists to try and tamp down the impulse. Once she had control, she stepped around him, and proceeded. To her surprise, he followed.

  “Where are we headed?”

  “I’m going to lunch. Alone.”

  She’d decided it was time to end the cold war with her parents and with Love’s and today seemed like a good day to start, so she continued down the street toward Love’s, Joe trailing behind her.

  ••••

  “It’s different on this side of the table,” she said as they sat at one of the few unoccupied spots.

  “How so?”

  “It’s just weird. Very weird. To be honest,” she said, looking directly at him for the first time since they’d sat, “I’d secretly imagined that the place would fall apart. Maybe even wished it. But they seem to be managing without me,” she said as her gaze skipped around the near-capacity dining room.

  “You okay with that?”

  She shrugged. “What other choice do I have? I guess I’ll just console myself with the fiction that my tireless efforts instilled such a strong structure that I made myself obsolete. Yeah, right.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “That’s probably true, you know? I saw how hard you worked here, how you set the tone. You picked good people and taught them the right way to do things and they’re keeping it up.”

  “Sure. Or maybe it’s just habit. People came here before me, and they obviously don’t have a problem doing so now that I’m gone.

  “Verna…”

  “Stop. I’m fine with it, Joe. Really. I had some low moments, but I’ve never wanted my fam
ily’s business to suffer. I’m happy that they’ve continued without missing a beat.”

  Joe was skeptical; she sounded like she was being honest, but with Verna, he could never quite tell. He started to protest but she stopped him.

  “Let’s drop it. I’m in no mood for a lecture, Joe.”

  “But—”

  “No, stop. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “Hear what?” he asked.

  Her eyes flashed at him, the anger in them potent.

  “It doesn’t matter. I’m going now.”

  She went to stand and he lay his hand atop hers.

  “Please stay,” he said.

  “No,” she shook her head. “I don’t think I will.”

  When she stood, Joe noticed the not remotely sly glances of onlookers, but Verna didn’t seem to care, and after she smoothed her skirt, which really did look amazing on her curved frame, and he’d have to tell her so, she exited. Joe didn’t let her get two steps before he was beside her, heartened by the annoyed look she threw his way, one of the few hints of the Verna he’d fallen for.

  “Look,” she said, “save the speeches, okay? I’m in no mood.”

  “What speeches?”

  “All that rah-rah, Verna-you-could-be-the-shit-if-you-wanted-to crap that you spout.”

  “You don’t want me to tell the truth?”

  That stopped her in her tracks, and she turned to him.

  “What? Like you did that night,” she said.

  Her words, the poison in them and the hurt in her eyes that went with it were all his fault, and that knowledge stung.

  “Don’t say you’re sorry,” she said when he would have begun speaking.

  “Why not?”

  “I fucking hate those words. Why are you sorry? You just followed your instincts, did what you should have even if you didn’t have the words to say as much.” Her voice was hard, but he could see the hurt in her eyes.

  “Stuff it, Verna.”

  Hurt turned to surprise as she squinted at him.

  “Did you just tell me to stuff it?”

  “I did, and you need to. Now, listen to me.” He reached up and held her face in his hands tenderly. “I’m sorry. That doesn’t really convey what I feel but from the very bottom of my heart, I sincerely apologize for what I did and I hope you can forgive me.”