Page 25 of View With Your Heart

“Of course, I remember her,” Mum practically says at the same time, a hesitant smile crossing her lips.

“Sarah is one of my best customers,” Britton says proudly, still looking at Mum. She offers Mum a soft smile and the moment almost breaks me.

I’m stumped once more that my parents not only remember Britton but know her business, and they never mentioned it. No one has told me anything about Britton McKay.

But why would they? Britton’s question haunted me last night. As I sat on the couch in my rented condo, I stared out the window at a partial moon, recalling memory after memory of a girl and a boat on the water, and continued to wonder why no one has told me she was here and why it’s bothering me so much.

Three years. She’s been here almost three years, roughly the same amount of time since my injury. How could I not know she’s been here this whole time?

Britton’s eyes shift from Mum to me before her hand slips from Mum’s back.

“I should get going,” Britton says, but I reach out for her wrist. It’s not aggressive, but it is quick as I don’t want her to slip away from me yet.

“Have a drink with me?” I blurt, and Britton’s mouth falls open. Mum’s naked brows lift in surprise, but Dad’s eyes pinch.

“We need to catch up,” I say, defending my invitation and my actions.

“Is that what they call it?” Dad mutters as his first words to me. He didn’t dislike Britton, but he didn’t like her either. He thought she was a distraction I didn’t need before I left for college, and he had a few choice words about her during that summer. Words that almost brought us to blows.

Feeling the need to protect her even now from the harshness of my father, I step closer to her, still loosely holding her wrist.

“I’ll see you guys Saturday.” Elk Lake City hosts their annual Harbor Days this time of year. Why it overlaps the film festival, I’ll never understand, as the two compete for attention. Then again, they are both successful in their own right, and the hotels and restaurants in the area thrive during this extended weekend. I promised my family I’d spend some beach time in town with them. I’m a little old for the carnival rides and fireworks and have a dinner to attend as Saturday is the closing night for the film festival, but I’m looking forward to some downtime. My head turns to Britton, wondering if she’ll be hanging out in town. As a local business owner, it could be a busy day for her as the population will triple in size.

Mum leans forward, patting my cheek. “It was wonderful, lovie. We’re so proud of you.”

Dad holds out a hand to be polite and tips his chin without any additional words. Shaking my head, I dismiss the fact I can’t get a read on him.

Britton and I stand still, watching them exit through the main doors before I turn on her. “So, a drink?”

“I really shouldn’t.” Her head tips forward, and her hair falls around her face. She strokes back one side and holds her hand on the side of her neck in a signature move I’d seen a million times that summer.

“It’s only a drink,” I say, but I don’t want to pressure her. Zoey drank too much, and it was one thing I grew to dislike about her long before she decided she wanted to be done with me.

“How do you know my parents?” Besides the obvious history, she seems all too familiar with Mum now. I chuckle, still stunned at the fact.

“As I said, your mom is a regular in the tea shop. We have a special blend she claims settles her stomach after her chemotherapy.”

Crap. Right. Shit.

“I-I should know that.” I scratch at the back of my neck, upset with myself that I don’t know these things about Mum and her condition. “Well, hopefully, she doesn’t give away all my secrets when she comes to TeasMe!”

Britton’s head snaps up at the mention of secrets, and then her gaze falls toward the doors. Her forehead furrows. “No, she doesn’t tell me anything about you.”

That’s puzzling. Mum loves to brag, so it’s strange she wouldn’t mention me to Britton any more than she’s mentioned a favorite tea and one particular tea shop owner who was once important to me. Has Mum mentioned Britton? Could Karyn have been correct, and I didn’t ever pay attention? Surely, Britton’s name would have stood out to me. She’s still important to me, and I sense it as she stands before me.

“It’s Adams, by the way,” she says, turning her attention back to me.

“Excuse me?” I don’t understand what she means.

“My last name. It’s no longer McKay but Adams. Mrs. Patrick Adams.” Her tone turns harsher as her eyes flit up and down my body.

“Okay.” The word lingers between us. What am I missing here? She told me her husband passed away years ago. Why the defensive tone? Is this about the mysterious man in her life?

“How about ice cream?”

“What?” She chuckles softer.

“Let’s get ice cream instead, unless you’re full from the Twizzlers, candy girl.”