Page 35 of Where Roads Lead

Ava, for her part, said very little.

To me, at least.

Apparently, though, she was the golden girl of the town, and running into her in the store was practically the equivalent of finding a penny lucky side up, only to find out it was actually a million dollars.

After a run in with several gentlemen of all ages, Ava had been forced to reluctantly introduce me to them as ‘Elsie. The new girl.’

We didn’t make it to the aisle we were there for until I’d been acquainted with the mailman, the fire chief, and Ava’s fourth grade teacher—all of whom sang her praises for showing me around town. Helping me settle in. Being her warm and friendly self, they insisted she’d always been.

“You should run for mayor of the town,” I told her with an impressed nod. “You’d win by popularity alone.”

She waved it off. “That’s just how people here are. Friendly.”

“Right.” I smiled tightly.

Friendly.

“Well, I really appreciate you bringing me to the store,” I told her, waiting for her to cash in on her opportunity to flee.

She said nothing, just stood across from me in the aisle like some type of standoff.

“Anyway, I should be good to go now—” I said, grabbing a product off the shelf and waving it at her in proof. “So, you can—”

“That’s a Ring doorbell.”

“Is it?” I frowned down at it.

Damn.

“I can see why Will didn’t trust you to come on your own.”

I scoffed. “I don’t see why he even cares.”

“He doesn’t,” she was quick to add. “It’s just…him.”

I stared at her, waiting for her to explain.

“Will has an over-inflated sense of responsibility,” she said, fingers skimming the products on the shelf. “He thinks it’s his job to take care of everyone and everything.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It’s what he’s always done. But it got worse after Matthew died.”

“That’s his brother?” I asked gently. “Your husband?”

She turned, inhaling deeply as she nodded.

“Can I ask what happened?”

“A car accident. It was late, and it was raining and…” She shrugged. “Will was never the same after.”

“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I can’t imagine it was any easier on you.”

She paused, eyeing me suspiciously, as if sizing up how real my sympathy was or wasn’t. I felt a pang of hurt that she had to wonder, before deciding she must not have very good friends if her natural instinct was to be so mistrustful.

I held her gaze, hoping to convey to her that I wasn’t trying to pull a fast one on her or whatever other ill-intentions she was trying to find in me.

A moment passed, then another, and then she deflated.