“Work’s good. Very busy.” And almost as if on cue, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s more than likely Michelle. “Um, I’ve been thinking about going to law school soon.”
“Wow!” She scraped the bottom of a bowl with her scoop. “That’s big. I remember when you went off to college and started all that pre-law stuff. I always figured you’d be a psychology major or something. But you look all sophisticated now, so I guess being a lawyer fits.”
I nod, unsure of how to respond. Do I really look sophisticated? I’d absorbed the twenty-something New Yorker style, but basic. I’m wearing denim shorts and a short-sleeved body suit underneath it, both in black. Maybe it’s just the black. Who knew that all it would take for people to see me as a potential lawyer is to wear dark colors? Everyone’s always seen me as slightly artsy — not enough for the vibe to seem cool, but just enough for everyone to know that if they got me fancy pens or whatever as a gift, I’d use them.
“Do you like the city?” Margie asks, frowning for a moment at a batter and grabbing a clean spoon to taste a batter. “After this town, I bet it was a shock.”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Lots of stuff to do.” I always say that when people, namely Mom or her friends, ask me about living there. In reality, I hardly do any of the things the city is famous for. Besides eating a lot of pizza, I guess. And paying an astronomical amount of rent for a tiny place. Andy’s renting a whole freaking house for what I pay in rent for my dinky studio.
“So, no boyfriend?” Margie asks after a pause. She’s almost hyper-focused on filling up the cupcake pan, not looking up at me.
She and basically everyone I know heard about the wedding incident. Margie had even helped me decorate my cake. She watched me pack it up and take it back to Mom’s place to eat by myself over the course of two weeks, sadly wringing her hands on a towel and trying to soothe me with other baked goods. Margie’s a kind person, so I know she’s not asking to rub my face in my past. She genuinely wants to see me dating again.
She’s the type of person who really, really loves being married and wants everyone else to have that same happiness. She and her husband are still incredibly in love. The affection and respect they have going on practically ooze from every look they give each other. She likely doesn’t understand the desire to remain single if she has a love like that.
My phone buzzes in my pocket again, and I pull a face. Andy’s definitely dead asleep, and who else would be texting me?
“So that’s not a special someone texting you? I swear, they’re gonna catch your phone on fire.” Margie grins.
“No, no one,” I reply, finishing off a row of cupcakes. “Well, work.”
“That woman is texting you while you’re on vacation?” Mom asks, appearing out of nowhere from the front. “Nadine.”
“I know, Mom.” I put the piping back down and dig my phone out of my pocket. “It’s fine. I have it under control.”
“I wish you would find another job,” Mom says with a tsk. “I’m sure there’s a law firm out there that won’t milk you dry like this woman does.”
On my bad days, I sometimes vent to Mom about work. Now I wish I hadn’t. Mom’s pretty chill and tries not to be pushy with advice. My job is one of the few things where she has a firm stance that she’d like me to take. She wants me to do what makes me happy, but she doesn’t get how I’m using this job as a steppingstone to better things. I can suck it up for a little while longer.
I wipe my hand on my apron, so I won’t get my phone too dirty and unlock my phone. I need to check over a contract I had handled at the office before I left, which is damn near impossible on my phone since the font is small. I text her back and tell her I’ll get to her later this afternoon. Hopefully, I can slip away for a moment.
“It’s fine, really. It’s just until I go to law school.” I bite my lip and go to wash my hands, tucking my phone into my pocket again.
“You’re working on applications? What about your LSAT?” Mom asks, her right eyebrow going up the way it does when she knows she’s onto something.
It’s summer now, so I really should be organizing my applications. The farthest I’ve gotten is half-heartedly putting together a list of places to apply to and buying an LSAT study book that I haven’t opened yet. She knows full well that I’ll probably be putting another year in at the job before I get the guts to apply.
It’s just hard when work sucks up 95% of my life.
“I’m studying for it and organizing my applications,” I say, shooting her a look. I raise my eyebrow right back at her, and she gets the hint.
“Speaking of organizing, can you help me out with that wedding website? I swear, I can organize a business, but I can’t make heads or tails of wedding planning,” Mom says, sliding some of the filled muffin pans into the oven.
“Oh, I can show you!” Margie’s face lights up. “I helped my niece with it. It’s so easy.”
“Good. I want a wedding, but all of this planning is a pain already.” Mom sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “Nadine’s helping me too.”
The other night, we’d spent a couple of hours scrolling through Pinterest to find themes. I’m thrilled for Mom and want to help her finally have a dream wedding, but it only reminds me of when I was the one scrolling through the site, pinning inspiration and dreaming of having a happy little life with Grant.
“Are y’all still looking for a house too?” Margie asks. “Throw that into the mix, and I’m surprised you’re standin’ up straight.”
“That’s on pause for a little bit,” Mom explains. “We’ll get it all sorted soon enough. Nice frosting color, Deenie.”
I look up at her, then at the cupcakes in front of me. It’s been a while since I’ve piped anything, but I’ve done a good job.
“Thanks.” I do one more and stand back up. Despite the stress of Michelle blowing up my phone, I feel good about the work I’m doing.
We hustle to finish up, Mom’s employees trickling in to open the shop and do work on other projects. By the time we load up the van, the sun’s burning down on us, and it’s already hot.
The church is enormous and has a big field on the plot right next to it. They have camp there during the week, but today it’s basically a tiny amusement park. There’s a row of bouncy castles, pony rides, games, and even a small ride. Mom backs up to the tent that’s already set up for us, in the middle of a long row of tents. Part of the funds from today are going to help rebuild areas around the world affected by natural disasters, so everyone’s got a lot of stuff to sell. There’s jewelry, crafts, other food, clothes, and candles. Basically, anything you could blow a little money on for a good cause.
The fair hasn’t officially opened yet, but the number of people there is already making me a little nervous. I tug on my baseball hat to cover my face a little more. People from all over town, regardless of whether they go to the church at all, come to this. There’s a strong chance that I’ll run into someone I know. Why didn’t I think this through? Of course I would have to work the booth and not just help out at the bakery.
I set up all the stuff we brought on the long tables the church provided and got the cash box and credit card scanner together. I sigh and sit down. We’re early, so now I have to sit here and stew in my anxiety.
I take that moment to try to go through the contract on my phone. If I zoom in 200%, it’s not too hard to read. It’s painfully dull, but I’m good at things that require a lot of attention to detail. I push the things around me out of my head and do my work as Mom and Margie chat with the woman selling yarn next to us. It takes less time than I thought, and I’ve sent back adjustments to Michelle right as the first customers arrive.
I smile and nod at the people passing by, glancing at what we have. Mom handles the sales at first, and I handle questions. Right now, it just seems like families, so there’s not a big chance of running into old classmates who will probably ask me all sorts of questions out of pure nosiness rather than a place of caring.
Even though it’s only 11AM, the cupcakes I frosted are already selling. Kids beg for them, and their parents relent, giving me looks that say, ‘well, what can you do?’ I love kids, but I feel bad for the sugar high those parents are going to be dealing with soon. At least there’s the bouncy castle.
“Oh my god, Nadine?”
I manage to not flinch at someone calling my name. It had to happen at some point today. I turn toward the voice and relax a little. It’s a girl I was kind of friends with in high school, Joelle. She has a toddler in a stroller in front of her, engrossed in a tablet. Even though it hasn’t been that long since graduation, her face seems foreign to me. Maybe it’s the fatigue that’s clear as day under her eyes.
“Oh, hey!” I smile, trying to perk up. “How are you?”
“I’m great!” She comes around the side of the booth and gives me a hug. Ah, she’s still a hugger. “But tired. Pregnant again.”
“Congrats,” I say, glancing down at her stomach. It just looks like she had a big lunch.
“It’s still early.” She steps back and sighs, putting her hand on her stomach. She’s wearing a diamond ring, too. “It was the hardest part for me last time. Between that and work, I’m beat.”
She looks at the toddler, who basically doesn’t realize anything outside of that tablet exists. The love on her face makes my stomach clench. The chasm between the two paths we took feels as wide as the Grand Canyon. She’s living the life I thought I wanted to live when I was with Grant: married and being a youngish mom, with a career somehow wedged in there too. Though it looks like my reason for wanting kids young — having a little more energy to keep up with them — is a moot point.
Now the thought of being married and having one and a one-third kids sounds like something that would happen in an alternate universe. If I ever manage to date again, I wouldn’t want to rush into marriage. I highly doubt I’ll be having kids any time soon, and the fear of not having the chance to have one suddenly makes my chest ache.
God, I need to relax. I’m twenty-seven. Everything is fine. I’ll be fine. That’s my mantra. I wonder when its powers will kick in, so I truly believe it.
“What have you been up to? When did you move back here?” she asks, going back behind the stroller. She absently pushes it back and forth.
“Oh, I’m just visiting and helping out. I live in New York City now.” I look at the toddler, wishing I could sit in a stroller and not be bothered. “How old is your little boy?”
“He’s 20 months,” she says as if that means anything to me as someone who doesn’t have kids. Why not just say he’s a little over a year and a half old? “His name is Declan.”
“What a cutie. Hi!” I wave to Declan, but he ignores me and slaps his little hand against the screen.
“He’s so in love with that thing. I’m sorry.” Joelle laughs, clearly a little embarrassed. A man waves to her from a couple of tents down. “My husband’s calling me. It was so nice seeing you! We should catch up sometime!”
“Nice seeing you too.”
I watch her go, feeling weirdly distressed. There’s a knot in my throat, and it burns a bit. I take a deep breath and rest my hands on the table.
I need to take a walk.
I grab a muffin and tell Mom where I’m going before I walk in the opposite direction Joelle went in. A muffin isn’t the best thing to eat while walking, so I get crumbs all over my body. The downside to wearing black — everyone can see these crumbs.
But I don’t care.
I take a few deep breaths and try to focus on the fair around me to get myself under control. A man selling beef jerky. A woman sampling honey. Kids lining up for pony rides.
I keep walking until I spot the backside of a fire truck in a small clearing. I walk around it until I get to the front and see a small crowd of families gathered there. There’s a small platform set up and a few firefighters standing on it, holding hoses and fire alarms. My breath catches when I realize that Noah’s one of them, with his dog Mabel at his feet. Mabel’s wearing a dog-sized fire hat and doesn’t seem to hate it. Her tongue’s lolling out from the heat, but she’s absently wagging her tail.
Noah’s wearing a dark blue, short-sleeved button-down and matching pants. The way his arms are angled only play up his muscular biceps, and the uniform fits him so well that it’s impossible not to notice how good his body looks. I know I’m not the only person who’s taking a long hard look at him. There’s a tiredness behind his gaze, but his face and voice are animated for the crowd. If I didn’t know him, I’d probably get a crush on him just from watching this presentation.
Good thing I know better.
His admittedly earnest apology yesterday in the car has made me feel better. But it doesn’t change all the other years of us hating each other.
I jam the rest of the muffin into my mouth and turn my attention to the dog. I can’t separate how cute I find Mabel with who her dad (owner? human?) is. The kids in the crowd must find her cute too because a lot of them are staring only at her, which in turn makes them look at Noah. If anything will get them to pay attention, she’s a cute animal.
I stop at the edge of the crowd to listen in on what he’s saying, trying to stay hidden behind a tall guy and his family.
“Can anyone tell me what the first thing to do in case of a house fire is? After you hear your fire alarm go off?” Noah asks, drumming his fingers on the fire alarm he’s holding. He points to a little girl, maybe around kindergarten age, sitting in front. “Yes, with the cool Pokémon shirt?”
From my angle, I can’t see whether the girl is smiling at the compliment or not, but I can hear it in her voice.
“You gotta touch the door and see if it’s hot,” she says, in the tone of a kid who gets told she’s smart a lot. I definitely recognize that one.
“Exactly.” Noah looks up again, and I slide behind the man in front of me, so he won’t accidentally see me. “Good job.”
“Do I get a high-five?” she asks.
“Of course.” He reaches down and gives the little girl a high five, smiling like it’s the best thing he’ll do all day.
The women next to me exchange glances, and I know exactly what they’re thinking. A hot guy in uniform, being cute with kids? Plus a dog’s involved? It’s threatening to melt away any sense I have.
I need to keep moving, or I’m going to start thinking even more stupid thoughts.
I keep walking, trying not to look at the stage. I try to push the sound of the crowd’s laughter out of my head. Noah might be good at his job, sure, but lots of people who do good things for the community are assholes. And so what if he can confess and take ownership of the bad things he’s done in the past. Just because he’s good doesn’t mean he’s good.
I glance over my shoulder against my better judgment, and my heart flip flops in my chest at the very sight of Noah’s smile.
I wish I’d stayed put at the booth.
Chapter Six
Noah
Dinners at Babs’s place used to be my favorite weekly activity. I’m not sure when they started officially. Andy invited me and his girlfriend, Angela, to dinner once, and Dad happened to be there already. They had just started dating. Babs has a ‘the more, the merrier’ mentality, so she was happy to have me there. It was so much fun that we kept doing it. And she’s an amazing cook in addition to being a great baker. I usually don’t need much coaxing for delicious food and wine.
But today, I’m sitting in my car in my driveway, trying to gather up the energy to drive the ten minutes to her house.
Nadine will be there. I want to see her, but at the same time, I don’t. She’s so slippery in a lot of ways. The last time we spoke was on the flour pick-up, and without even trying, I think I pushed her buttons. But then I noticed her when I was giving my presentation at the fair, and she was eyeing me with what could only be lust.
Which Nadine will I interact with today?
I finally turn on the ignition and
blast some music, trying to get into the right state of mind to deal with this evening. With Nadine’s hot and cold personality, I don’t know how to make a game plan. I bite the inside of my cheek. I make mental game plans for dates I’m excited about, not that I had been on one for a long time. This is far from a date.
I pull into Babs’s driveway behind Andy’s car and park. With my music off, I can hear the distant sound of Carlos Santana blasting inside the house. Apparently, his music brought Dad and Babs together, so they play it all the time when they’re together.
The front door’s unlocked, so I walk in with my bottle of wine. Babs’s cat, Mimi, pokes her head out from the doorway into the living room and runs away immediately. I must smell like Mabel.
“Hey, I’m here,” I call over the music. I kick off my shoes next to the others, noticing a pair of worn silver Birkenstock sandals that must be Nadine’s and wander deeper into the house.
“Hey, bud,” Dad says when I reach the open kitchen. He’s pouring a glass of red wine and awkwardly moving to the music. He doesn’t dance well when he’s sober, but he loses any sense of self-consciousness after maybe one glass of wine. “Wine?”
“Sure.” I put the bottle I brought down and take the glass from him.
“Hi, Noah!” Babs says from the stove, where she’s stirring something that smells amazing.
“What’s for dinner tonight?” I ask, coming up behind her. She gives me a kiss on the cheek like she always does. Despite the savory smell of the food, she still smells like sweets.
“The famous Abarta family paella,” she explains. “It’s Nadine’s favorite.”
“Ah.” I take a long sip of wine. “She’s here?”
“Yeah, out on the porch,” she says with a sigh. “Always on that damn laptop. Andy’s out there too if you want to say hello.”
“I think I will.”
I head out toward the back. The house is big — apparently, Andy and Nadine’s dad left it to Babs in the divorce since it’s been in the Abarta family for a long time — but the backyard is even bigger. There are old trees in the distance, backing up to a fence, and the evening sunlight is hitting the porch in just the right way. Andy’s on one side of the porch, stretched out with a big glass of wine in his hand and his sunglasses on, his shirt off to soak in the sun. Nadine is on the other side of the porch at the table we’ll likely be sitting at for dinner, tapping away on her computer.
One Night Flame Page 9