I knew the feeling. “I hear you,” I said. “Talk when I get back?”
“I’m staying at my parents’ tomorrow night.”
“Oh, that’s right, the surgery is tomorrow. Text me and let me know how it goes.”
“Will do.”
“Alright. Talk soon.”
Cupcake.
I left that part unsaid.
“Bye, Parker.”
Hanging up, I looked at my phone, hoping I wasn’t too late to fix this.
34
DELANEY
With terms like laminectomy and bony arch of the vertebra running through my brain, I found myself on a detour on the way to work. Having left early to walk by the now-closed wine-tasting room once again, a now-daily ritual, it was almost as if my feet moved of their own accord toward The Coffee Cabin.
Dad was going to be fine, but seeing him in the hospital yesterday, so fragile and vulnerable looking, had been jarring. Of course I knew my parents wouldn’t be with me forever, but so often I was able to push aside any thoughts of a world without them. Between Mason losing his dad and my own having complications on what should have been a standard pre-surgery checkup, thoughts of something bad happening to them persisted.
Between that and what was happening with Parker, pulling myself out of bed this morning had been more difficult than usual. Looking at my phone, not seeing Parker’s name pop up, had been disheartening, if expected. I might not have panicked except for our talk just a few days ago. Knowing he liked to work out problems immediately, rather than sitting on them, meant the guy was genuinely confused about moving forward.
Opening the door to the coffee shop, I resisted second breakfast, having already eaten a scrambled egg and piece of toast at home, but the smell of fresh baked goods got to me. Considering it a win when I only ordered a coffee, I took a deep breath and said, “Is Paul around, by chance?”
“He’s in the back.” The young college girl who I’d only seen working a few times before seemed unsure about what to do next.
“Can you tell him Delaney Thorton would like a brief word with him?”
“Uh, sure.”
What the hell was I doing?
Maybe it was the lack of sleep after talking to Parker. More likely it was seeing my dad in that hospital bed with Parker’s words ringing in my ears.
This isn’t a trial run, Delaney. We get one chance at it, and then we die.
“Morning, Delaney,” Paul Baker said, coming out from the back.
He was about my father’s age, maybe a few years older. He was a regular at the pharmacy. Paul believed in frequenting locally owned businesses and wouldn’t be caught dead ordering from a chain of any sort, pharmaceuticals included.
“Good morning,” I said as he indicated a seat in the corner.
“What can I do for you?”
Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. What the hell was I doing?
“Well,” I hedged before willing myself to just spit it out. “I wondered about the wine bar building. I’ve noticed it’s for lease?”
Paul sat back in the corner booth. “Yeah, unfortunately. I thought they had a winner, working with local wineries, Emilio… Urban wine-tasting rooms are popping up all over the place. It’s too bad, really.”
“Do you think there’s a reason that particular building has had a difficult time maintaining businesses? I know it’s a block off the square, but a lot of successful businesses are without a problem.”
He seemed confused why I’d ask the question, but Paul was too polite not to answer. “I don’t think it’s the location, to be honest. We have a sign on the corner pointing down the street to foot traffic. And the children’s boutique actually did well. They closed for personal reasons.”
