“That was sweet of him,” Lillian said.
Sweet, yes, but that wasn’t the point. Bryony pressed on. “We went to Dewey’s after the movie, and everything was going well until the blonde snorkeler—I mean waitress—threw herself at him, and he asked about whether I ever considered retiring to a beach home. The whole mess with Nathan—and every failed relationship before that—came flooding back.” Bryony paused and smiled. “But I’m okay. I realized again this morning, I’m good alone.”
Lillian leaned in. “You do know that waitress is Mark and Sherry’s granddaughter. And I’m pretty sure she’s all invitation, no action. Sherry was the same way when she was young. Remember? All talk and bouncy walk.”
Now Bryony realized why the waitress seemed so familiar. Knowing she was Sherry’s granddaughter completely wiped out her resemblance to the snorkeling instructor. The waitress was her flirtatious grandmother reborn. And the truth was, Cal had not given the girl any indication of interest. If anything, he had looked a bit horrified.
But there was the invitation to think about retiring south. And if Cal was serious about Florida or becoming an expat, she might as well give up now. “There will be no happy ending for me.” Bryony reset her shoulders before declaring, “And I’ll be okay without one.”
“You do this every time,” Lillian said.
“Do what?”
“Run for the hills.”
“I’m not running anywhere,” Bryony said. “I’m sitting right here, right where I belong, not running.” At least for now, but would she run back to her old job? Falling back into her old life would be so easy, seductively comforting. She wasn’t ready to discuss that with Lil.
“How did the date end?” Lillian asked.
“I said I had a headache and asked him to take me home.”
“Maybe it wasn’t a total disaster.” Lillian leaned forward again and patted Bryony’s arm. “I have a feeling he won’t give up easy.”
Bryony picked up the napkins and stood to argue her point of view. “Last week he suggested I think about starting a pie business, and on Saturday night he asked if I was interested in retiring outside of Ohio. As if a person my age can start a business, close it or sell it in a few years, and start again somewhere else. Obviously he doesn’t take me seriously, just like Dad and Mitch.”
“Are you thinking about starting a pie business?” Lillian asked.
“It’s just an idea. I probably won’t. But that’s not the point. The point is, he didn’t take me seriously.”
“Hold on, Bry.” Lillian reached up and snatched the napkins, placing them on her lap. “He’s asking you about your future plans.” Bryony tried to retrieve the napkins. Lillian blocked the attempt with both hands and a half turn. “How do you know he’s interested in a beach house? Maybe he was making small talk. You watched a movie about a couple at the beach.”
“Can I get back to work?” Bryony asked, irritated with Lillian’s sensible analysis.
“Don’t take this wrong,” Lillian said. “But while I love every inch of you, you’re too hard on people, including yourself. You like this man, maybe more than you have liked any other man.”
“I know.” Bryony sat down again and buried her face in her hands. She did like Cal. She dropped her hands and looked at her friend, searching for support. “But why would I consider a serious relationship at this stage of life when I could start my own business.” Or work for Charity. Ugh. Too many options now.
“I love my coffee shop,” Lillian said. “But it’s no substitute for family.”
“Easy to say when you’re the woman who has it all.” Bryony put her elbow on the table and laid her temple on her hand, propping her head. “I don’t have a family. Maybe having my own business could be my comfort in old age.” Could working for Charity last into her post-retirements years? Maybe. Bryony knew a CPA who had continued to work into her early nineties.
“You can’t snuggle at night with fiduciary success.” Lillian stood, put the napkin stack on the table, and pushed her chair in. “But have it your way. Look at your dad. Maybe you’ll find an Alma, or an Elmer, when you’re old and gray.”
“I’m already gray, partially.” Bryony used her free hand to sweep her bangs to the side.
“And so incredibly cute and adorable!” Lillian pinched Bryony’s cheek as she walked back to the work area.
Her best friend ended all disagreements with a joke or a compliment. Bryony sighed, picked up the napkins, pushed herself out of the chair once again, and refilled the napkin holders. She wished she could be more like Lillian. Calm when calm counted. Feisty when a fight arose.
Never an obvious fighter, Bryony’s way of staying alive was slow and steady, the ability to thrive in unlikely places. She was the dandelion sprouting up between cracks in a sidewalk.
Her mood improved as the morning commenced. By the time the first rush ended and the fixtures settled into their spots, Bryony stopped worrying about Cal Forster and put herself back in the rhythm of the day, the tempo set by choosing a CD of background music featuring Lillian’s favorite female jazz singer.
As she returned to the work area after cleaning a few tables, Abby stopped her.
“Miss Green?” Abby said. “I almost forgot to ask. My grandmother lives where your dad lives, and she said you brought in a sugar cream pie.”
“You’re Alma’s granddaughter, right?” Bryony asked.
“Yes!” Abby lit up. “I am! Grandma said you make the best sugar cream pie she’s ever eaten.”
“I haven’t had a piece of sugar cream pie since my wife died,” Mr. Parker said, lowering his newspaper, his eyes misty.
“I wondered,” Abby said. “Could I buy one from you for Grandma? I’d like to surprise her.”
“You don’t have to pay me,” Bryony said. “I’ll bring one in next week.”
“Me, too?” Mr. Parker asked. “But I’m gonna warn you, if it’s anything like the ones my wife used to make, I won’t stop with one.”
Bryony smiled. “I’ll bring one in for you, too.” She glanced over at the third fixture. Etta continued to stare at her laptop screen, tapping on the keys, engrossed in whatever she did every day. Bryony deliberated about offering a pie to her, too, but chose to not interrupt. Something about Etta scared her a little. She didn’t want to bother her unnecessarily.
CAL PERSISTS
After texting once, Cal had decided not to bother Bryony anymore on Sunday. Instead, he visited with his father on Zoom, and called Heidi to talk about Halloween plans.
On the videoconference, his father complained Heidi would worry him to death about the ways he might die if he insisted on living at home alone.
