Page 44 of Keepsakes and Kismet

God. She’s just so much fun.

“How do you two know each other?” Sarah cuts in.

“How don’t we know each other at this point? With how often we see each other, it’d be impossible not to know this guy,” Peyton replies, a classic flash of mischief in her eyes.

Sarah squints, and I realize that this will make city-wide news tomorrow. Headline: Cal Galvin Interacts with Human Woman by Choice, and She Looks Happy: What This Means for Waterton.

After a moment, Sarah reaches out and clasps my shoulder. I’m surprised by how much the touch throws me, and I can practically feel Peyton’s stare at my side.

Sarah gives my arm a squeeze. “Well, I’m really happy for you, Cal. Looks like you finally did it.”

Her specific choice of words pry a memory from me, one I’d prefer not to revisit.

“Hey, Cal? When you finally do it, feel free to call me.”

My body sags against the futon. I feel so numb. “Do what, Sarah?”

“Get over it.”

Her voice yanks me back. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to get out of here sometime soon to put the kiddos down. I hope you two enjoy the brewery!”

“I know we will,” Peyton replies cheerily.

A moment or two after Sarah joins her kids in the corner, Peyton leans my way. “So, what was that about?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “Hmm?”

“Who was she? No offense, but that whole interaction was kind of awkward. And that’s saying a lot, because I’ve been in a lot of awkward situations.”

“If it felt awkward, it’s probably because it was awkward. Sarah’s my ex, and that was the first time we’ve talked since we ended things years ago.”

Peyton nods. “Oh, got it. The one you told me about at the golf club? From high school?”

“Yeah.”

Peyton’s nose scrunches. “Did things end badly?”

Did things end badly? There isn’t bad blood between us, but there’s no fond nostalgia either. I’ve been grappling with much bigger things than the end of a childhood relationship.

“Not really. We went to two different schools, so I’m not sure the distance would’ve worked anyway. She’s a good person, but I was in my head at the time, going through my mental health stuff. It… I was a lot to handle.”

Peyton pauses, looking thoughtful. “Well, my sixty-three personas and I are a lot to handle. So, I guess we have that in common, then.”

How does she do it? She has this unreal ability to never leave me hanging. Peyton may be an expert influencer, but her greatest talent is observation. She notices when someone needs a lift, and she offers it without hesitation.

For the next forty-five minutes, I admire the way she commands the room, moving through the crowd, captivating anyone and everyone. I’m utterly transfixed, watching her weave the cider into nearly every interaction.

“Anyway, I immediately knew I’d never go back to Japan. After my love affair with the chef, it was too heartbreaking,” a thirty-something woman wearing a knee-length cardigan tells Peyton near the bar counter.

Peyton frowns, shaking her head. “That’s so hard. I’ve visited Japan, and I can’t say I’ve been missing a love affair, but you know what I have been missing? Their Fuji apples. So fresh and delicious. But I gotta say, I think this cider is nearly just as good. Have you tried it?”

Later, a guy wearing a fedora strikes up a conversation with Peyton by the stage where the band’s setting up, mentioning he used to live in New York. “I did a stint on Broadway before coming back to Waterton,” he brags.

“That takes a ton of talent. I bet being on stage was addicting.” A glint of mischief flashes in Peyton’s eyes. “Actually, I just heard the funniest joke involving theater.”

“Tell me!”

“Alright, it’s kind of cheesy. Just remember you asked me for this!” Peyton clears her throat. “Why did the apple join Broadway?” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Because it loved apple-ause!”