When We Touch

“Oh!” I’m slightly taken aback. “I’m sorry. I guess, considering what it was, I didn’t think you’d want a lot of extra… things.”

“Obviously, we don’t want anything red or yellow inside,” she carries on, oblivious to my best friend turning green in the face.

Donna is blissfully ignorant of what we’re discussing… at least I think she is. She walks over to the windows and looks out and to the left. I don’t allow my mind to wonder what she’s seeing.

“I made a cayenne pepper and chocolate cake over the weekend—”

Tabby jumps in. “Oh! That sounds perfect! Hot chocolate for a hot cake?”

Betty’s nose wrinkles. “I’m not sure. I get the reflux, you know.”

“Um… in that case…” I pull out my chocolate combinations cheat sheet. “I’ve done a chocolate cake with chocolate mousse filling and chocolate buttercream or fondant… Devil’s food with coconut pecan buttercream filling and dark chocolate ganache frosting—”

“That one!” Tabby cries. “Do that one. Trust me, BP, that is the cake you want. It is so good. So good.”

The older woman’s lips curl. “I’m not sure about coconut. That might look like something nobody wants to see.”

“It’s not flaked coconut,” I explain. “It’s coconut flavor.”

She smacks the counter with her palm. “Book it.”

I scribble down the order on my notepad, and the short little lady scoots up closer. Her shoulder is just under my armpit. “How are you holding up?” Her voice is low and full of concern.

“I’m doing just fine, thanks.” I nod, without meeting her eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“I swear, the whole town’s buzzing.” She steps back and starts pacing. “Jack Lockwood slipping in like that under cover of night… and the nerve of Wyatt giving him a job. As if the Lockwoods haven’t taken enough money out of this town—”

“Isn’t he staying at his mom’s old cottage a few blocks away?” Donna asks, still staring through the glass.

I wish she wouldn’t do that.

“That’s just it,” Betty continues. “His mother was a good, local girl. Your own mother’s best friend.” She nods to me. “And Randall Lockwood just ruined her. And Oceanside—”

“And we’re working hard to bring it back,” I cut her off, brightly, already sick of this conversation. “Me and Daisy with her antiques… and André! His sandwich creations are as good as anything you’d get on the strand or anywhere!”

“André’s a good boy.” Betty nods, and I wince. “It’s why I’m having this party for his and Thelma’s anniversary! I love those two like they were my own kids.”

Tabby and I exchange a hopeless look, and I press my lips together. This old woman has no idea how wrong her words are—on so many levels.

“Well, I’d better get back to the store.” She waddles to the door. “Donna, you stay and tell Emberly what all you want on your wedding cake. Then you come right back. I need your help with the inventory.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Donna says in her shy voice.

“And Emberly.” Betty holds the door wide open, as she’s shouting at me. “Don’t you worry one bit about that Jack Lockwood. My Bucky will take good care of you.”

My jaw drops as my body flashes hot and cold. I don’t have time to say a single word before that old lady pulls the door shut behind her with a slam, and we watch the top of her teased grey hair marching past the window outside, headed in the direction of her store.

Nine

Jack

Curtains are the first thing I see when I arrive to paint. I’m working on Wyatt’s hardware store today, and sheer, white-lace curtains have appeared in all the downstairs windows of Ember’s place.

It’s possible she’d already planned this addition to her interior design, but I can’t help thinking it has something to do with me. And I don’t like it.

Light blue paint, up and down.

It’s hotter than it was two days ago. My muscles have adjusted to the manual labor, and even though I’m using sunscreen and working early in the day, my skin is darker.