Janey leaned in, inhaled, and closed her eyes in prayer. “God, I missed this.”
“That’s because Seattle hashbrowns are just shaved hubcaps,” I said.
She laughed. “True, but how would you know? You’d never go down there.”
“Things have changed.”
Her brows lifted. “Yeah? And you didn’t call?”
I ignored the comment and refilled her mimosa.
For a minute, we found a groove.
I could do this. Keep it in that lane. No reminiscing, no names we didn’t need. Melanie would be here late morning with Lydia.
“So,” Janey said, too casually. “I ran into Riley this morning.”
“Mm.” I aligned cocktail straws, like that required precision.
“She said the town’s feral with Christmas. Not news. She also said you were good.” Janey tilted her head. “Andbusy.”
“I am.”
“With someone?” She popped a piece of hashbrown, chewed. “Or just in general?”
My jaw worked. I slid a tray of clean glasses closer, took my time aligning them.
“What did Riley say?” I asked mildly.
“Nothing specific,” Janey said, eyes bright. “But her face is gossip with a frother.”
“Then you know as much as you need.”
She traced the condensation ring her flute left on the wood.
“I always liked this place at Christmas,” she said softly, as if we were looking back over a scrapbook together. “The tree you insist on cutting yourself. The tacky paper snowflakes that the high schoolers make, and you pretend to hate. You get stubborn about tradition.”
I kept my voice even. “Tradition keeps a town stitched together when the weather wants to take it apart.”
Her smile warmed.
“There he is,” she murmured, like she’d coaxed something out of me and wanted to reward it. “Always did like your sermon voice.”
“I’m out of those. We only preach on Wednesdays.”
Janey took another sip, another bite. The conversation hummed along the edge of nice, where it’s easy to tip into familiar if you’re not careful. She knew the dance, and so did I, but I had no interest in the old steps. Not anymore.
“How long are you in town?” I asked, deflecting.
“Depends on the weather,” she said. “Depends on whether I remember how quickly this place gets under my skin.” She dabbed at the corner of her mouth with a napkin, gave me that sideways glance I remembered. “Depends on who convinces me to stay.”
That earned a slow blink from me.
“Renter applications,” I said. “That’d do it.”
She laughed softly. “I forgot how literal you get when you’re determined not to flirt.”
“Then let me remind you,” I said, not smiling.
