“The best is what they’re known for. Fish and chips. And, of course, the hushpuppies.” I thump the other side of the menu.“But I’m a fan of their shrimp broil pots. If you want, we could get one of each and share.”
“I’m in,” she says, grinning. “This is a fun date.”
I get lost looking at her pretty face until Annabell rudely interrupts me. Well, maybe not rudely, but I’m butthurt, nonetheless.
“I still can’t believe you birdnapped all those budgies yesterday.” She sips on her sweet tea and then shakes her head. “Were they mad?”
I threw them two hundred-dollar bills. With those skeezy breeders, all they care about is money. They’re fine.
“They’ll get over it,” I say with a grunt. “Sorry I made your job harder. I know you’re trying to rehome the budgies, not bring in more.”
A strange look passes over her face and she nods, not meeting my stare. Maybe I shouldn’t have nabbed them. An uncomfortable silence falls upon us. It’s on the tip of my tongue to discuss her future plans, but I’m too much of a chicken to bring it up.
What if she tells me what I don’t want to hear?
Luckily, before Monroe’s voice can nag at me inside my head, Annabell shows up with our food. That’s the thing about this place. They’re fast. Always cooking in big batches, so it’s easy to whip up a plate for new people coming in.
Though I’ve been here easily a million times, it’s cool watching Nora enjoy one of my favorite places. She loves each thing she tries, especially the hushpuppies. I conned the recipe out of the owner’s greedy hands once, so I’ll have to make them another day for her.
If she stays…
My stomach churns and I decide that’s enough seafood for the day. Nora must have a bottomless pit for a stomach becauseshe continues to munch her way through our enormous spread of food.
“Got any room in there for pie?” I ask, arching an eyebrow up.
She groans, pats her belly, and nods. “I saved a little corner.”
Like our lunch, we have Annabell bring us a slice of strawberry pie and a slice of lemon meringue. We also grab a slice of chocolate meringue and key lime to-go.
“How have you been holding out on me with this place?” Nora asks after I pay and drop a good tip on the table for our waitress.
“There are a lot of good places around here. I want to show you them all. One at a time.”
“In slow motion,” she complains. “That tracks with you.”
If it keeps her here longer, it seems like a pretty solid plan if you ask me.
I carry the to-go boxes, and Nora loops her arm through mine. It feels so very right having her at my side. I want to do this every day. Go places with her. Eat, sightsee, rescue budgies. I want her to want that too.
When we make it back to the house, Mom is out of her car, taking pictures of the cottage next door. I run the pie slices inside my house and then come back out to find Nora talking to her.
“I know it’s not super ready,” Mom says to Nora, voice filled with excitement, “but we have some buyers already interested. I figured I could post some photos to tease. We’ll update them after the boys make their repairs.”
Mom snaps several more pictures of the front yard, focusing on the colorful hydrangea bushes in front of the porch. She mutters to herself, saying something along the lines of, “This cute cottage will get snapped up in a second.”
Nora’s smile is stiff and forced. It has alarm bells ringing in my skull. This isn’t the first time she’s gotten weird today. Something’s going on inside that pretty blond head of hers.
“You okay?” I ask under my breath as we follow Mom inside.
Nora gives me a clipped nod. Definitelynotokay then.
I close the door behind me so the air conditioning inside the house won’t escape but keep a close eye on Nora. Mom does her realtor spiel, snapping pictures of everything, and praising what a good job we did. I watch Nora’s every move. All the fake smiles. The rigid posture. The quick breaths coming out of her.
It takes about forty-five minutes for Mom to get what she needs for the listing. After she hugs us both, she leaves. The silence is deafening. Nora walks over to the window. Out front, Mom wrangles one of her signs out of her trunk. Then, with Hulk strength, she beats the sign into the grass.
Nora bursts into tears.
“Hey,” I say, voice tight with worry. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Nora.”
