He chuckles, but it doesn’t sound totally genuine. “I wouldn’t say this is keeping my normal job. The most daunting thing I did today was pull a LEGO minifigure from a kid’s nose.”
The image brings a slight smile to my face, but I do my best to hide it. “Not something you deal with on a regular basis?”
“Not quite.”
I nudge his elbow. “Go ahead, brag. You know I’m not one to be offended by a show of ego.”
Ben shrugs. “I’m a surgeon, of course I’ve got a bit of an ego.” He hesitates for barely a second before continuing. “I specialize in cardiothoracic surgery, kids who have heart issues and need major intervention.”
I don’t even have to feign being impressed. “Seems like you’re a pretty big deal, Dr. Loving.” It’s not hard to imagine him, all competent business in the operating room, all calming bedside manner when dealing with nervous kids and their more anxious parents.
“I do the best I can.” This time Ben is the one nudging my elbow with his. “It will get easier, it was just the first day.”
I swallow a gulp of wine, relishing the warmth that spreads through my chest. “I think we both know I’m not cut out to run a bookstore, Doc.”
“I think the important thing to note is that you tried something new and you gave it your best.”
I snort. “I’m not a kindergartener. There’re no adulthood points for effort. Either you succeed or you fail. Safeto say, today I failed.” The words taste sour in my mouth, even after another swig of wine.
Ben picks at the label of his beer bottle, the same generic one from the night before. “I don’t think life works like that. It’s not all so black and white.”
“It is in my family.”
Ben doesn’t say anything for a minute, but I can feel his eyes on me, like he’s x-ray visioning into my brain and learning things no one should really know.
And that’s my cue to leave. I’ve already shared more than I would normally, and I don’t like the sort of warm feeling in my chest that comes with Ben trying to offer me comfort and companionship. I chug the rest of the wine and set down the glass on the small table in between the two chairs. “Thanks for the wine. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Have a good night.” He gives me a lingering look.
I ignore the shiver it sends down my spine. “Yeah, you too.”
6
I force a determined smile across my face as I push open the tinkling door of the café the next morning. I’m dressed in a mint green sundress and a small part of me is hoping if I look the part of the angelic, reformed former big-city girl who now fully embraces smalltown life, I might be better equipped to finish my tasks and get my ass home. “Good morning, Mimi.” Maybe if I pretend like yesterday never happened, she will too.
She greets me with a soft smile and piteous eyes. “Good morning, Cam. I’m sorry you had such a rough day yesterday.”
It irks only because, all things considered, it didn’t actually feel like such a rough day. At least, not until the very end. “It’s okay. I had a feeling I wasn’t cut out for bookselling, but I’m ready and willing to move on to the next.” Cam Andrews doesn’t stay down for long.
Mimi studies me for a minute, as if she’s trying to determine whether I mean what I say. I must pass the test because she turns to start fixing me a latte, and even thoughI’d rather just have an espresso, I let her make me one of her frothy specialties.
I head over to our usual table while she makes my coffee, sinking into the chair and doing my best not to let myself sink into a full-on pit of doom. Accepting Mimi’s proffered mug gratefully, I take a sip before steeling myself to ask the dreaded question: “So, what do you think I should try next?”
Mimi taps her nails along the pink ceramic of her own mug. “I know there’s a wedding this weekend, and Kate could probably use some help, so that might be the next best bet.”
“Kate?” If there is someone else actually in charge, wedding planning already sounds easier than running the bookstore. I can take direction if nothing else.
“Yes, Kate is Heart Springs’s resident event planner. She takes care of all the weddings and town events.”
Given that I have so far only met like five people in the entire town, it seems like Kate might have a pretty easy job. How many weddings can there be among such a tiny population? This wedding gig seems like it probably involves a lot of scrolling through Pinterest. You know, if they actually had phones and social media. And while I am not one who enjoys sitting back and doing nothing, it might be easier to be passionate about that than stocking bookshelves or measuring flour.
“Okay, great. Well, I guess when I’m done here, I’ll head over and meet Kate and let her know she has an extra set of hands for the big day.” I’m trying really hard not to get my hopes up because honestly, this job sounds too good to be true. I thought bookselling was going to be a piece of cake and it turned out to be a total nightmare, and I don’twant to make the same mistake with this whole wedding gig. Most likely, the only part of this one that will be a piece of cake is the actual cake.
But when I stride out of the coffee shop a few minutes later, I’m cautiously optimistic, emphasis on the cautious. Mimi told me to turn left and keep walking and I’d come to Kate’s shop; since it’s my first real stroll through the main part of town, I take my time.
The town really is idyllic, if you’re into the whole small-town romance vibe. The pastel rainbow color scheme is consistent throughout, the sun shines brightly but not too hot, and for the first time since I arrived, I find myself among other people. People besides Ben and Mimi and the few customers I met at the bookstore. And of course, every single one of them greets me with a smile and a hello and seems genuinely happy to see me.
It’s a foreign feeling. Despite working with family on a daily basis back at home, none of them ever seem excited to see me. Even when I’m closing deals and bringing in huge accounts. I don’t have any siblings—at least my mom was smart enough to quit while she was ahead—and my relationship with my cousins has always been more competitive than friendly (it’s not my fault Grandmother picked me to be her successor at the ripe age of nine—what was I supposed to do, be less awesome?). I can’t even think what my reception will be like when I finally make it back home, having been out of the office for who knows how long, and missing the biggest meeting of my career so far.
