Bryony raised her eyebrows.
Lillian smiled and sipped her coffee. “Okay, we’re happy. But just because you haven’t found your soulmate doesn’t mean he’s not out there. Give it a shot, Bryony. When’s the last time you went on a date?”
“When I was fifteen,” Bryony said. She went out with the boy three times before he dropped her for someone else. “I told you. I don’t date. Dating is too uncomfortable.”
“Right,” Lillian said. “You met Nathan because he filled in when someone went on maternity leave, and you kept running into each other at the vending machine.”
“And then we started having dinner together, as friends,” Bryony said.
“And spending weekends together,” Lillian added.
“And holidays.” Bryony’s mother had adored him.
“How could he prefer sun-scorched snorkeler to smart, sensational you?” Lillian put her hand on Bryony’s arm.
“Maybe he preferred twenty years younger,” Bryony said.
“Ugh!” Lillian lifted her hand and made a swatting motion, as if brushing away a fly, a spider web, a foul smell. “Nathan is history. There’s someone else out there looking for your future. Go on a date.”
“I told you, I don’t date.” Bryony sipped her coffee while looking over the brim of her cup.
“Then go on a non-date. Are you telling me you haven’t been interested in anyone?”
“Nope.”
“Until Bumbleberry.”
Bryony’s cheeks burned again.
“See? Every time I mention him, you blush.”
“Hot flashes.”
“Call it whatever you want, I think you’re interested in Chuck’s sub.”
“He’s an interesting man.” Cal Forster reminded Bryony of someone who might be seen on a stage or in a movie. His face was expressive, captivating. “Anybody who met him would be interested in Chuck’s sub.”
“Oh, I’m going to meet him,” Lillian said. “I want to meet the man who sets your face on fire.”
“He does not!”
Etta left her chair and approached the counter. She stood looking at the employee work area as if unaware of Lillian and Bryony sitting nearby. Bryony scooted around the counter and stepped up to the spot opposite Etta.
“May I have a second cup of coffee?” Etta asked.
“No problem.” Bryony took Etta’s cup, re-filled to one-half inch below the rim, and returned it with a wisp of steam curling up from the black liquid below. “Be careful. It’s hot.”
“Thanks,” Etta said, placing a five dollar bill on the counter.
Pushing the cash back toward Etta, Bryony said, “Second cup’s on the house.”
“Then put it in the tip jar.” Etta shoved the bill back to Bryony.
“Thanks!” Bryony said, but Etta had already turned her back to return to her seat.
When Bryony dropped the money into the tip jar, she noticed writing on it. She fished the bill back out, unfolded it, and read. Relationship tip—Assume the other person likes you as much as you like them and act accordingly. If they don’t like you, you have lost nothing. If they do like you, think of all you would have lost if you’d never tried.
Bryony dropped the money back into the jar.
She did not engage in or condone magical thinking, and she would not be taking guidance from a tip jar. Besides, someone like Cal Forster would never be interested in someone like her.
CAL STUMBLES FORWARD
The second day of school had been a breeze. Cal stayed late to listen to a group of students who seemed eager to please while communicating their needs for extra help. Two said they had ADHD. Another, a shy senior named Todd, said he was dyslexic.
These kids were cool. So far, the greatest threats to Cal were falling asleep after lunch and remembering where he parked his car, though he did have an awkward moment with the principal right after lunch when he casually asked about his sister.
“Bryony?” Mitch had answered. “She’s a little fragile right now. Let herself get all worked up about being dumped by a guy who seemed okay at first, but I never really liked him. She needs to get her life together. She’s not in a good place, if you know what I mean.” He’d eyed Cal with meaning.
“No worries,” Cal had said. “Just curious.” He followed up with a few questions about the sports trophies in the hallway display case which, yes, did belong to Mitch, and which Mitch did enjoy talking about in detail, including yards, touchdowns, rival games, game-winning plays, and championships. From Cal’s perspective, after the uncomfortable exchange about Bryony, they had shared what might be Fieldstone’s version of a real bonding moment.
On his way to the parking lot, three students said, “Have a good evening, Mister Forster.”
“I think I’m going to like it here,” Cal said to himself as he hit the remote to unlock his doors.
The ride to his rented home took ten minutes. Bailey greeted him at the door, tail wagging, tongue hanging out.
