Page 9 of A Simple Love

And I slammed the door in his face.

Yep. I was going to handle this just fine.

5

OLIVER

Kassie slammed the door so hard it shook. Shocked, I stepped back, realizing my attempt at levity had gone over like a lead balloon.

She had obviously forgotten we used to refer to Richton as our hick town. I’d thought it would make her smile.

Big mistake.

And unless I was incorrect, she wasn’t happy about me being here. At all.

I ran a hand over my face. I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised. But I was stunned at how it bothered me. And mystified me. I hadn’t thought about Kassie in years, so why should her opinion of me matter?

My subconscious laughed, reminding me there had been times when all I’d thought about was her.

I ignored it.

Then I turned and walked away, hoping to leave the odd feelings and inner laughter behind me.

For the first while, I kept my head down with my baseball hat on and my sunglasses firmly in place. I discovered the gym at the YMCA wasn’t as bad as I feared—the pool had been recently upgraded and the machines fairly new. To be polite, I removed my sunglasses and hat as I spoke to the woman at the YMCA, and I was pleased when she didn’t recognize me. She was kind and helpful, not reacting to my name on the ID I gave her for a temporary membership. She gave me a card and a list of hours and classes, then returned to the task she’d been doing when I walked in.

Outside, I left off my baseball hat and walked around, enjoying the anonymity. People smiled and even said hello as I passed them on the street, but that was all. No one took my picture or followed me, shouting questions. It was a sensation I had forgotten—being free and private.

In the grocery store, I bought some staples and was pleased to see the hot food counter and a small salad bar. I picked up a couple of meals from the hot counter and filled two containers with salad that looked surprisingly fresh and tasty. The clerk was chatty, surmising quickly I was new in town and on my own. She asked me if I was there for the movie that was going to be filming.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

“Oh, it’s so exciting. Everyone is buzzing!”

I smiled.

“My grandson is in all his school plays. He loves to perform, and he sings too. He’s hoping to be picked as an extra.” She paused in her praise. “Do you have bags?”

“Oh, uh, no. I didn’t think. Can I buy some?”

She nodded. “The cloth is better. Good handles and better for the environment. You can reuse them. My granddaughter is into recycling and the whole footprint thing. She is always teaching me.”

“You’re very proud of your grandkids,” I commented, enjoying a simple conversation that had nothing to do with me or my life.

She laughed. “I’m talking too much. My Bert says I talk people’s ears off.”

I chuckled and took my bags. “My ears are still firmly in place. No worries.”

She tilted her head. “You look familiar.”

I waited for it—the dawning recognition, the request for an autograph or picture. But it never happened. She smiled and tapped her nose. “You grew up here.”

“Yes.”

“I never forget a face. You’re Dorothy’s boy.”

My throat felt thick as I responded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I was sorry when she passed. She was a great lady.”