Page 27 of Call It Serendipity

She pokes at the corner of her doormat with the toe of her boot, her gaze cast down. “Because I appreciate that you want to see what’s special about our town.”

Taking a step closer, I wait for her to look back up. “I don’t want to be the bad guy in your story, Lucy.”

“I don’t want you to be either.”

My heart swells as the sincerity of her words take root. Reaching out, I grab her hand and squeeze it once. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

She squeezes my hand back, bids me a quiet goodnight, and goes inside, leaving me standing alone under those cozy porch lights with a lump in my throat and hope in my heart.

17

One of my favorite feelings is the moment when I realize a painting is starting to take shape. Not done, far from it in fact. But I’ve started to make my idea tangible, the possibility truly coming to life. It’s a feeling I recently worried would never come again.

Standing back from my easel, I wrap my hands around a mug of cider and take a long sip as I admire my progress. Real progress, in brilliant shades of autumn and golden light.

And that fizzy, anticipatory feeling washes over me.

I let my body relax into it, like a hug from an old friend.

“Lucy!” Claire’s voice, and the smell of fresh, simmering chili drift up through the open studio door. “Dinner is ready.”

If there is one thing that can make me put my paint brush down, it’s Claire’s chili. She made a pot today to celebrate the first of October, and my mouth is already watering as I head for the kitchen.

“You’re just in time to settle a debate,” Levi tells me, looking over from his seat at the table.

“What’s that?” I jump up on the counter and snatch a piece of cornbread off the tray beside me.

“The finale of Seinfeld—brilliant or a huge let down?”

“Huge let down,” Claire pipes up from across the kitchen. She sets three bowls on the counter and crosses her arms. “Biggest disappointment ever.”

I swing my legs back and forth, my heels tapping the cabinet door beneath me, as I consider the question. “Well, I think for that show, it ended exactly as it needed to.”

“Yes,” Levi cheers. “And why do you say that?”

“I mean it was always a show about nothing. Nothing ever happened, so nothing needed to happen to wrap it up.”

“Thank you,” he says triumphantly, throwing his hands in the air. “Claire, hun, I’m sor⁠—”

He’s cut short by the chime of the doorbell. “Hold that thought,” he says as he moves to answer it for us.

“Maybe it’ll be someone with good opinions,” Claire huffs as I lean over and dip my cornbread in the simmering pot.

“I’m not saying I loved it, I’m saying it made sense.”

She laughs over the sound of footsteps growing near. We look up together as Levi points to the newcomer and says, “This guy claims you know him.”

“Jake,” Claire purrs. “Was Lucy expecting you two nights in a row?”

“She was not,” he admits, his attention set on my shocked expression. “But she left this in my truck last night and I thought maybe she’d want it back sooner than later.”

He holds up my Walkman and smiles knowingly. He’s right, of course, I tore my bedroom apart looking for it this morning.

“Where was it?” I ask, jumping down and padding over to him.

“Passenger side floor, where you had your purse.”

“Thank you.” I accept the CD player and flash him a nervous smile as our hands brush. It’s the same as when he reached for me on purpose last night, the small touch causing a rush within me.