Wasn’t this what she wanted, though, for him to leave her alone? And not just him, but everyone else too? As she stood alone by Mimi’s car, longing washed over her. For Hayden and for something else she couldn’t put her finger on. Everyone here seemed relaxed and happy. Two things she was not.
The noon sun was beating down, and she wiped perspiration off her forehead as she waited for her grandmother and questioned her decision to wear jeans on such a hot day. She hadn’t brought anything else other than shorts. She didn’t even own a skirt.
“Riley! Yoo-hoo!”
She looked up to see Bea pushing Mimi toward her, Peg strolling alongside. Mimi was grinning as they approached her. “We’re going to The Orange Bluebird for lunch,” Erma said.
“Is that new?” Riley asked. The Sunshine Diner had always been closed on Sundays, and since it was the only restaurant in Maple Falls, The Orange Bluebird must be in another town.
“Heavens, no.” Mimi’s fingers touched her pearls. “It’s been around for years in Rockfield. It used to be called Gas and Guzzle because it was part of a gas station. Then it was sold to The Orange Bluebird owners and they changed the name.”
Riley couldn’t decide which name was worse.
“They have a delicious all-you-can-eat brunch.” Bea was practically licking her chops.
“Peg said she would bring me home,” Mimi interjected, gesturing to her friend.
That was unexpected. “You don’t want me to take you?”
“You’ve been running nonstop since you got here. I figured you’d like some time for yourself, so go on home and take it easy. I’ll be back this afternoon. Come on, girls!” She waved forward Bea and Peg. “I want to get there before they run out of buckwheat pancakes.”
Riley stood by the Town Car as her grandmother and friends climbed into Peg’s gold minivan. It was a bit comical watching the two women figure out how to get Mimi in the back seat, then wrestle her wheelchair into the trunk. Finally Junior Dobbs sauntered over and helped them out. After several profuse exclamations of gratitude from the women and a tip of Junior’s baseball hat, he and her grandmother and friends exited the parking lot.
When she scanned the lot, she saw that everyone else had left, including Hayden. Now she really was alone. There was nothing to do except go back to the house.
When she pulled in the driveway, she parked and went inside, ignoring the stacks of magazines, catalogs, unfolded laundry, and layers of dust on the furniture. She slipped out of her sandals and placed them neatly near the front door, then walked into the kitchen, intending to fix a glass of iced tea. Instead, she paused at the table, listening. She heard the hum of Mimi’s ancient refrigerator, felt the cool, smooth, outdated vinyl flooring beneath her feet, saw the row of dust-covered small ceramic roosters sitting on the ledge of the kitchen window. Like everything else in the house, nothing had changed in this room since she left. But instead of lamenting that her grandmother was stuck in the past, she found the familiarity of the kitchen comforting.
Although not the silence. It was too quiet, especially when she was used to hearing the TV blaring or Mimi chatting on the phone with one of her friends. Quiet canceled out comfort, and she slapped together a ham and cheese sandwich, poured herself a glass of tea, and went outside.
The sun was hidden behind the clouds, but the heat and humidity lingered in the air. She wandered through the tall grass in the backyard, stopping in front of an old tire swing. She used to play on it when she was little and visited Mimi. She’d even swung on it a few times after she moved in as a teen. She sat on the raggedy tire and pushed her toes in the dirt, swinging back and forth as she ate her sandwich.
How many times as a child had she sat on this swing while her mother and grandmother were in the house, having a talk that usually ended in an argument with Tracey storming out and dragging Riley with her? She had no idea, but she clearly remembered wishing she could live here instead of with Tracey. Mimi’s house was always nice, always comfortable, and always filled with food and love. Mimi read her bedtime stories and fixed her cookies and milk, but only if Riley had eaten her vegetables at supper. She would let Riley take bubble baths and play dress-up, and she always told funny tales about her life with Poppy. Tracey had never done any of those things. Living with Mimi would solve all her problems. Riley had been sure of that.
Then she moved in with her grandmother, and while her life had been different and better, it hadn’t been the paradise she’d imagined. She hadn’t felt any more connected to Maple Falls than she had to all the transient cities she’d lived in with Tracey.Whose fault was that?
She popped up from the tire, shoving the past out of her mind. She should have gone with Mimi to The Orange Bluebird. At least there she would be distracted by the food and company. Here her only companions were memories she didn’t want to relive.
As usual when she was out of sorts, she thought about her art. She went back inside and put her partially eaten sandwich and glass of water on the kitchen table, then climbed upstairs to her bedroom. She searched the small dresser in the corner of the room, and in the bottom drawer she found a small stack of cheap sketch pads, exactly where she’d kept them when she lived there, along with a pack of charcoal pencils.
Riley took one of the pads and one of the pencils and went back to the backyard, this time sitting in a white plastic chair on the pitted and peeling deck. She put her feet up on the short deck railing and began to sketch the elm tree in front of her. She was halfway through with it when she looked at it and frowned. The sketch was uninspired and two dimensional. She glanced at the tree again, disappointed that her drawing hadn’t done it justice. Working in mixed media for most of a decade had eroded her drawing skills. She turned the page over to a fresh white sheet.
Closing her eyes, she let her creativity take over, as she often did when she felt blocked or off her game. She allowed the pencil in her hand to take the lead, giving control to the art instead of forcing it. After a few minutes of sketching, she opened her eyes, eager to see what was on the page.
She groaned. An outline of Hayden’s face stared back at her.
Riley started to turn the page again, then paused. She studied the light pencil strokes, thinking of how she could flesh out the image. Maybe she could get him out of her mind by getting him on the page. At this point she was willing to try anything.
She continued drawing, sketching out his facial structure, which of course was perfect. Then she started on his hair, making sure to add the way the ends touched the collar of his shirt at church this morning, and the one cowlick at the crown that she’d noticed the first time she saw him in high school. Soon she was engrossed, focusing on her craft as much as she was the subject of it.
The sound of a car door slamming brought her out of her zone. She folded over the sketchbook and set it on the rusty white wrought iron table next to her chair, then went inside, put on her shoes, and opened the door to help Peg with Mimi.
When she stepped on the front porch, she was stunned to see Olivia, Anita, and Harper coming up the steps, holding bags of takeout.
“You left before we could invite you to lunch,” Anita said, smiling as she stopped in front of Riley.
“So we decided to bring a late lunch to you.” Harper held up a plastic bag from a restaurant Riley had never heard of. “We planned to get here earlier, but Mother asked me to run an errand.” She rolled her eyes. “Sometimes she refuses to take no for an answer.”
“I hope you like Mediterranean food,” Olivia said. “The spanakopita is amazing.”
