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11
Finn
I’m in the kitchen making a sandwich when I hear the front door slam. A second later, Sylvie bursts through the door and practically skips across the kitchen.
“Hey,” she says, lifting a hand at me in a wave.
“Hey,” I say. “How was your day?”
“Just as wonderful as always,” she replies, still continuing toward the back door without stopping.
I smirk at her. “You in a hurry?”
“I am,” she gasps excitedly. “Something happened today, and I’m desperate to know how it went.”
With that, she flies out of the back door and onto the porch, where I know Emma is sitting. I’m in the middle of wondering what on earth she could mean, when she speaks again, only this time, she’s talking to Emma.
“So, you and Nick, huh?” she declares excitedly.
My mouth drops open with shock at Sylvie’s statement, and I watch through the kitchen window as Emma moves across the porch and drops herself into the chair beside her best friend.
I’m still stunned, while my mind is working a mile a minute to figure out how it could be possible. I know Emma went out to town this afternoon, but I can’t put the two things together. While she had been speaking to Nick at the BBQ on Saturday, there were no numbers exchanged, as far as I could see, and she hadn’t left the house since. She couldn’t possibly have gone out this afternoon to meet Nick. She had no way to arrange it.
So, what was Sylvie talking about?
I continue to make my sandwich, and Emma replies, “Well, I suppose nothing happens in this town without being observed.”
I’d like to say I’m not eavesdropping, but that would be a lie. I’m totally eavesdropping.
“From what I hear, he saved you from that dreadful downpour,” Sylvie says, the excitement still in her tone.
I’m slicing pieces of cucumber as they continue, and realize that my cutting skills are getting a little aggressive.
“We just bumped into each other. Literally,” Emma replies. “And then it started raining, and he dragged me across the street and into the coffee shop.”
“Oh, this is so exciting,” Sylvie cries.
“It wasn’t a date, Sylvie,” Emma says, sounding nowhere near as excited as my younger sister. “It was just a coincidence.”
“Maybe, but coincidence didn’t keep you there for an hour,” Sylvie counters.
I roll my eyes and shake my head. That’s information that Sylvie shouldn’t really know. And in any other town, she wouldn’t. But this is Sharon Springs. While I do love our small community for many reasons, this is one of the things I did not miss when I left. If you sneezed at one end of Main Street, by the time you reached the other end, a person would offer you a tissue. While there was no harm in those who talked, they certainly did not know how to mind their own business.
“Really?” Emma sounds a little frustrated, and I can understand why. She’s told me she lives in a town of thousands of people. Perhaps they’re not just as friendly as we are here, but they likely don’t record your every move.
“Oh, don’t be like that, Em,” Sylvie says. “People don’t have much to do in Sharon Springs.”
“Clearly,” Emma replies, the frustration still evident in her voice.
I’m worrying that I’m going to bear witness to the women’s first blazing row since Emma has arrived. But then, my little sister is not one for arguments. She hates conflict in all forms. Even friendly debate.
“Hey,” Sylvie says, her voice a little gentler now.
When I look outside, Sylvie’s leaning over and resting a hand on Emma’s arm in a reassuring gesture. Yep. That’s my sister. I’ve always felt her skills as a peacekeeper were wasted as a beautician. She’d do great things in politics if she were so inclined.
“I’m sorry,” Emma says. “It’s just, I’m not used to being under a microscope.”
“I know. I shouldn’t have said anything. I should have just waited until you told me. I’m the one who should be sorry.”
