Forgotten First Kiss

“Mmm.” Her eyes rolled back in her head as she chewed. “This is divine. Oh, my stars. The buttery goodness of it. What’s your recipe? I must have it.” She shifted into one of those acting voices for the last bit and rubbed her hands together. “Out with it.”

I turned to the costumes. “Show me what you’ve got. Are these for the four- to six-year-olds?”

Tennille stepped between me and the pile of fabric and sequins. “Nope. You can’t tell me this food is something you’re keeping secret. Out with it. No takeout place in Wilder River makes anything this good. Did you cook it?”

That was just it. I had no idea. “I guess?”

“What do you mean, you guess? You’re Danica Denton. Drive-through Danica, who eats take-out seven days a week. The woman who burns water.”

“Right?” That was my puzzle as well. “This is going to sound utterly bizarre, but I can’t remember if I cooked it.”

“You mean your amnesia has yanked your short-term memory as well?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

With a know-it-all demeanor, she perched on the arm of the couch and folded her arms over her chest. “Do you remember my coming to the door a few minutes ago?”

“What is this, Tennille? Of course I do. You’re sitting right here.”

“What were you doing right before that?”

“I was getting some air in the back yard.” Trying to stop my hyperventilation. “It’s snowy at the top of Mount Wilder already. Did you notice?”

With squinty eyes she searched me. “And before that?”

“I talked on the phone with Angelica. And before that, with my mom. What, are you tracing my life backwards now?”

“Exactly. And what happened before you talked on the phone with your mom?”

Oh. That. That was the part that got fuzzy. “I—well, I kicked Jeremy Hotston out of my house.” I shoved the bottoms of my palms into my eyes and scrunched up my face. “What in the heck was Jeremy Hotston doing here? That’s insane, right?” I pulled down my hands and looked at Tennille to confirm the insanity. “That had to be an apparition. Jeremy couldn’t have been here. I must have hit my head.”

Indeed, the back of my head did hurt. I patted it gently, and there was a growing lump.

Tennille eyed me. Hard. “You … know me.”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, I don’t know what you’re doing. But stop. I’ve got a blossoming headache and a mysterious chicken dinner and”—I yanked my sweater’s neckline in front of my nose for a second—“Jeremy Hotston’s cologne on my shirt.” I made a gagging sound. “I am in no mood for shenanigans from my business partner. My brain is playing enough of them on me as it is.”

Instead of giving me more stinky looks, Tennille thrust her arms outward, lunged at me, and gathered me into a huge hug. “This is the best day ever!” She jumped up and down as she hugged me, jarring my brain inside my skull. “Oh, man. Can I tell you what a relief this is? I have been having the hardest time figuring out all the business decisions by myself. It’s been crazy. If I ever start getting ungrateful, just stop me. You do so much for the gym, and I honestly had no idea before, and”—she pulled back and looked at me at arms’ length—“and I’m just so glad to see you again.”

“Thanks.” I pulled out of her grasp. “But could you dial down the rejoicing and tell me what’s going on?”

“Sure, but I just registered what you said a minute ago. Jeremy Hotston was here—and your sweater smells like him. Yikes, much?”

“Much yikes.” I shuddered. That buffoon—and why did I smell like him? I hated so much that I had no idea.

“You called the cops, I hope.”

“No, he made himself scarce the second I told him to get out. But the weird thing is, he looked just as much like a martyr today as when I banished him from Angelica’s wedding.”

“I guess some people never change. Poor sucker.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means, what the heck is he doing in Wilder River, hanging around you when you obviously hate his guts? Man, I swear, I thought once he moved away and made a hundred million dollars, he’d emotionally move on from this place. I mean, I would.”

Hundred million dollars. What? Not Jeremy Hotston. “Nah, your heart is here forever.” Not that I’d know about Jeremy’s doings over the past decade. I ignored all gossip concerning him, and people had eventually stopped trying to force-feed it to me.

“Yeah, seems like Jeremy’s was, too.” Tennille smirked. Then, she launched into an explanation that was harder to hear than a first-year violin student’s practice.