“Nothing,” Bryony answered, her courage crashing. “His dog chased a cat. I fell in the mud. I came home.” She parked in front of her garage and turned off the ignition.
“Are you dating him or something? He’s not a good match for you. Cal’s a go-getter. He likes action. Did you know he was voted Teacher of the Year twice by the state teachers association?”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Bryony asked.
“He’s not like you. You’re quiet, reserved,” Mitch said.
“Boring?”
“I didn’t say that.” He didn’t have to.
“One of his students works in the coffee shop,” Bryony said. “We talked about the student.”
“Listen, Bry. If you’re ready to date again, I have a few ideas, much better suited for you than Cal Forster.”
Bryony bit her lip before saying, “I’m not dating Cal Forster, Mitch.”
Mitch started to say something, but Bryony interrupted. “How about a few pies to share with the office staff?”
“Pies?” he asked. “Nice idea! While you’re at it, make extra for the staff lounge. I’ll need about ten. Okay?”
“Anything you want, Mitch.”
“Gotta go. They’re lighting the fire. Hot time in the old town tonight!” Mitch ended the call without saying goodbye.
Bryony exited the car with care. Her leg hurt now, and the side of her face throbbed.
When she was in high school, Mitch had steered her away from the guys who he thought would be bad for her. Now he worried about men who were too good for her. Her ego joined her leg and face.
By the age of over fifty-five, one should not be controlled by the opinions of others. She was, she reminded herself, a strong, independent woman. Lillian reflected her strengths back to her every day. When would her father and brother see her in the same light? And if they never did, why let their opinions matter?
Peeling her clothes off on the small enclosed porch, Bryony walked through her house in her underwear to the bathroom, one of the many perks of living alone.
A hot shower revived her mood.
Wrapped in a clean fluffy white robe, she padded barefoot into the kitchen and cut a small sliver of peach pie. Seating herself at the table, she drew one leg up, placed the sole of her foot on the chair, and rewrapped the robe, cocooning herself as she slid the fork though fruity filling.
The memory of Cal’s arm brushing against her sleeve lingered with the peachiness sliding over her tongue and down her throat. He’d called back and said he wanted to try again. The idea ran through her mind, sweet, delicious, and maybe not entirely terrifying.
CAL GOES ABOVE AND BEYOND
Todd’s appearance in Cal’s classroom at the end of the school day came as no surprise. He stopped in at least once a week.
The young man settled into a chair facing Cal’s desk. “How are things going with you and Miss Green?” Todd asked.
“Too personal, dude.” Why was he asking? Maybe Todd saw them at the bonfire. Cal moved a paper pad and pen to a desk drawer and locked it. “I’m your teacher. We have to maintain a certain level of professional distance.”
“Would it be too personal to ask for fashion advice?” Todd asked.
“Fashion? Check this out, Todd.” Cal swept his fingertips from head-to-toe. He tried, but wearing khakis, a shirt, a tie, a semblance of color coordination, and clean socks were the sum total of his dress-for-success efforts. “Am I the guy you want to ask?”
“Your style”—Todd spread his fingers in Cal’s direction—“appeals to me more than this.” He mimicked Cal’s head-to-toe finger sweep down his own attire.
Cal surveyed Todd’s faded shirt and baggy, ill-fitting jeans, the cuffs resting on worn, canvas shoes.
“Anyway,” Todd said. “I wasn’t so much wanting to ask about what to wear as where to find decent clothes at a reasonable price. I’d like to look better when I go to work, but I can’t afford what appeals to me.”
“Again, I am not the obvious person to ask, but it just so happens I do have an idea about where you might look for help. There’s a consignment shop in the basement of the Methodist church that specializes in work clothes.”
“You’ve been in town for what, about two months? How do you know this place when I’ve never heard of it?”
“Mister Henderson left a resource list.”
“Sounds great,” Todd said, his voice flat. He sat in a chair, stretched out his legs, and crossed his feet.
“But?” Cal asked.
“But I feel a little uncomfortable about going to places like that.”
“Places like what?” Cal asked.
“Like secondhand stores. Dad says they’re for poor people.”
Cal scoffed. “Haven’t you heard of retro?”
“What’s retro?”
