Page 53 of Something About September

She hated how formal things felt between them, but what could she do to change it? And she was grateful that Sabrina was there beside her, her voice suddenly all business.

“You’ll send Rebecca your invoice?”

His gaze skittered to hers, then back to Rebecca, as if maybe he, too, didn’t want it to be all over. Not just yet. But also, as if he didn’t know how to change it, either. “Sure thing. I usually do my invoicing on Fridays, but I might be a little late this week, what with the Autumn Festival and all.”

“That’s right. Happens every year. And we’re all set—we’ve got our dresses for the gala.”

Another flicker across his expression. He looked at the dress bag over Rebecca’s arm, then away. “I’ll need to get Pip new dress clothes, I think. That kid grows like a weed.”

Cort cleared his throat and said, “I’ll get out of your way, just need to load a few more things into my truck.”

It didn’t take long. Soon all traces of Cort were gone from the diner. Except, of course, the careful work he had done. The gleaming floorboards, the patched ceiling, the perfectly smoothed drywall. “Thank you,” was all Rebecca could manage. He just nodded, and then he left.

—

After Cort was gone, Sabrina turned to Rebecca. “That was intense. I couldn’t think of anything to say.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t have to. Just you being here helped. And now”—she took a small spin around the diner—“it’s all done. Cort did the job I hired him to do. I cleaned out the kitchen. I’ve got a few more days of work upstairs, and then I might ask for your help with some staging…” She trailed off. “I should feel triumphant, shouldn’t I? I’m going to make Crispin’s deadline; I’ll have the building listed before the thirty-day leave is over. But it just doesn’t feel good.”

Sabrina sighed, too, sinking onto a bar stool. “Tell me you have wine. I think we need it.”

“I do,” Rebecca said, reaching under the counter and coming up with a bottle of apple wine. “And I want you to talk to me. You said in the car you had something going on. I’m here for you. What’s up?”

She opened a bottle and poured wine and joined Sabrina on an adjoining bar stool.

—

Outside, the windows held the last of the golden autumn light, and it made the diner glow softly from within. The new floorboards looked like honey had been spilled over them.

Sabrina took a sip of wine and leaned back in her chair. “I guess the truth is, I’ve been feeling…stuck.”

Rebecca looked up from her glass. “You? That doesn’t seem possible.”

Sabrina smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s what everyone thinks. That because I’m always planning something—the hay maze, new products to sell in the market, new ideas for the orchard, new apple variations, new everything—it must mean I’m fulfilled. But the truth is, I keep adding things because I want more, not because I’m satisfied.”

Rebecca let that sink in. “I guess I just don’t see how you could do more.”

“Yes, exactly. I think, when it comes to Calloway’s, I may have done it all. Which is possibly why I’ve gone so extravagant with the hay maze this year. It’s like…it’s like I feel it’s my last.” Now her blue eyes were bright, and she was blinking back tears. “Only, what if I step away? What then? My parents always talk about retiring, but what will that mean?”

“Have you talked about that with them?”

She shook her head forcefully, so hard her curls flew around her face. “No. Instead, I just do more. Think of more things to add. Make it so complicated they can’t retire, and I have to work there forever…” She tucked her hair back behind her ears. “I think I’ve painted myself into a corner.”

Rebecca thought of her recent conversations with both Marion and James. “Well, if there’s one thing I know about your parents, it’s that they’re easy to talk to.”

“I just have no idea what exactly it is I need to say.”

“You can start with the fact that you’re not happy.”

“But then what?”

Rebecca thought for a moment. “When are you happiest?”

Sabrina didn’t hesitate. “When I’m cooking. Baking. Feeding people. When the kitchen’s a mess and everyone’s hovering, waiting for whatever delicious thing I’m going to give them.” She laughed softly. “When something comes out of the oven and I get to watch people take the first bite.”

Rebecca smiled. “You’ve always been that way. I think that’s why you liked being here, at the diner, so much.”

Sabrina nodded. “It’s true.” She looked around. “I know it hasn’t been open for years, but I still can’t believe it’s going to be gone. Or, not gone, but…different. I’m sorry. I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.”