“We’ll have them straight through until snow. Just wait until peak salmon season in July, when the resort is booked up and all the cabins are in use. It gets busy around here. They’ll be fishing shoulder to shoulder. You fish, right? I can’t remember …”
I give Toby a cockeyed look that makes him laugh.
He drags a rag over the counter, though there doesn’t appear to be anything spilled. “So, how’s the garden coming?”
“You know what? Surprisingly … okay.”
“Mom said you’re so bored, you’ve started decorating out there, too.”
I can only imagine Muriel’s tone when she said that. “I put in new plant markers.” The recycled orange-juice-jug tags that Muriel made to identify the vegetables were small and unappealing. I replaced them with bigger, nicer ones I designed using old paint stir sticks I found in the workshop—an idea I came up with after seeing something similar on Pinterest.
I also painted Calla’s Garden in white across a rusty shovel that I found in the dilapidated greenhouse and propped it at the gate, to give the old tool purpose and to give me cute Instagram content. It was so simple and yet followers loved it enough that Diana has been texting me once a day to start doing a weekly Alaskan garden post. Of course, Muriel noted, with a frown, the shovel is still functional, and the white markers will get dirty every time it rains.
Toby’s gaze wanders over to where Muriel stands, having nudged Teddy away with an elbow to take over doling out samples. “I know she can be a bit opinionated. Pushy, too.”
“No way,” I say with mock surprise, but I add a smile to let him know I don’t harbor any ill will toward her.
He laughs. “She likes you, though. Talks about you all the time.”
“Really?” This time, my shock is genuine. “I’m convinced she thinks I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah, I get that. Happens to me, too, and I’m her son. But do you think she’d bother with you if that were true?”
“Honestly? I don’t think she can help herself, no matter what.” Muriel’s the type of person who likes to be the one holding all the answers.
A wiry man three seats down waves his empty bottle in the air, and Toby swiftly and wordlessly replaces it. “She likes to keep busy with tasks and projects, is all. She’s always been like that. And then after Deacon died …”
My attention veers toward the two faces surrounded by the gilded frame.
Toby shakes his head. “Let’s just say she sometimes bites off more than she can chew, not that she’d ever admit to it.”
“I guess I’m her latest project?”
“Guess so.” He pauses a beat. “She’s definitely bitten off too much there.”
“Funny guy!” I grab a coaster and throw it at him.
He smoothly catches it. “Our family has been here for over a hundred years, and she thinks it’s up to her to make it feel like a real community. It’s why she’s the chairman of the town council and has her hands in almost every committee there is to sign up for. It’s why we have nights like these, to draw people out. It’s hard, when the winters are long and half the population is seasonal, and the residents have to leave town to shop and work. Anyway, she doesn’t think you’re an idiot, Calla. She
was impressed with how hard you worked out there. Said you never complained once.”
“Not out loud.” Again, I’m shocked by my own interpretation of Muriel’s frowns and comments compared to what her son is telling me. “It’s important to her to see that garden go on, isn’t it?”
He nods. “She’s loyal to a fault, and Colette was a good friend to her. One of the few people willing to call her on her bullshit.” His watches his parents for a moment. “Plus, she’s convinced you and Jonah are going to starve to death before the winter’s through.”
I laugh. “Because there aren’t any grocery stores around here?”
“Exactly.” He chuckles. “She’s got her way of doing things, and she won’t back down until she’s convinced you that her way is right, but …” He shrugs. “Her heart’s in the right place.”
“I know it is.” Which is probably why I’m tolerating her more than I thought I’d be capable. I observe Muriel for a moment, her broad smile infectious as she ladles from the pot marked #2 and hands a paper cup sample to a woman, before her gaze seeks the next recipient. I’ll bet she knows every name and address in here and, if she doesn’t, she’ll make sure to by the end of the night. “You know she’s going to be a nightmare for any girl you bring home, right?”
“Why do you think I’m single?” His cheeks flush as he collects an empty draft glass from a man who approached the bar and refills it from a tap. I guess fresh glasses for each drink are a luxury around here.
“You know who else is single?” I wait for his eyes to flicker to me. “Marie, the veterinarian.”
Toby grins, his face turning a deeper red. “She seemed nice.”
“And smart, and pretty …” And maybe if she starts dating someone else, she’ll stop playing the dear, considerate friend to Jonah while waiting for our relationship to run its course. That’s what I’ve convinced myself her angle is. I mean, that’s what I would do, if I were in love with a good friend and didn’t think the woman he was with was right for him.