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“As far as I know, he was from the city. My mom always joked that he was more of a country boy.”
She smiles. “A fellow Tar Heel. He sounds like a good man to me.”
“He was the best.”
A beat passes between us with nothing more than the gravel crunching beneath our feet filling the void. Just thinking of my dad on a night like this almost brings tears to my eyes once more. But I suck them down and hold my head high.
“What brings you here?”
“Well, my husband was from High Point. He owned a custom furniture store not far from our house. We lived there until his death last year. I guess I needed to get out of there, you know. Sometimes, you need a break from life. Change can be good when it’s the right kind.”
Her words bring a smile to my face. “I couldn’t agree more.”
Mrs. F sticks a key into the lock and leads me into the dark house. “It gets lonely in this big old house. I would love some company if you can get away sometime.”
“You have no idea how much I would love that. Thank you. I appreciate your help and the offer. It means the world to me that you would go out of your way to help a complete stranger.”
“There’s nothing strange about you, my dear. If you miss the party, you won’t get the chance to meet this boy, and I cannot allow you to do that. I met my Charles at a party. We were inseparable for over fifty years. I want you to have the same opportunity I had. Meeting him changed my life, and I suspect that this boy could change yours, too.”
“I could use some luck,” I say, deflated by how this night turned out. My sisters are such bitches for what they did to my mother’s dress.
Mrs. F stops in front of a large oak door and sticks the key in the lock. With the snap of her fingers, a huge chandelier illuminates the expanse of the open space. Two staircases join in front of us, rounding out the circular foyer. Decorated in what appear to
be intertwined branches stained a light green color, the beams that lead upstairs mirror most of the wood throughout the house. I’ve never seen such attention to detail.
At the center of it all, an oversized pumpkin sits atop a small round table with leaves carefully placed around it, as if intentional. This is a home. I remember the days when my mother would plant in her garden and come inside with whatever fruit and vegetables were ripe enough to eat. She’d set them on the kitchen counter and pull up a stool alongside her for me to sit and watch as she attempted to cook her latest cuisine.
Despite living alone, there’s so much warmth to Mrs. F’s house that I wish I could live here instead of the dump next door. Being here with this sweet woman only makes me miss my family even more. As I take everything in and allow myself a few seconds to recall the past, Mrs. F stays quiet at my side. That is until we hear the sound of feet pounding on the tile floor, coming toward us.
A dog rounds the corner and jumps up on her leg, desperate for attention. “Bruno.” She scratches the brown-haired dog behind his floppy ears, taking a few seconds to show him some love. “Okay, boy. Sit down and be good for Mama while I help our new friend.”
He responds to her voice so quickly that I’m a little surprised by how well he listens. Bruno sits at her feet and wags his tail, looking up at Mrs. F.
“Well, dear, shall we find you something more appropriate to wear to this party?”
“I’d love that,” I say in a hushed tone. “Thank you again for helping me. If there’s anything I can do—”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she says, cutting me off. “There’s no need. You’re in need of help, and I’m more than happy to get you to that party to meet the boy you are so impressed with.”
I chuckle, the blush rising to my cheeks at the thought of Shawn Finch. “I’m more than impressed by him. He’s…” I’m not even sure what words to use to describe him. He’s just Finch. And he has no idea that I exist.
Tonight, I’ll make him notice me if it’s the last thing I do. I have one shot.
“I had that look about me when Mr. F. was alive,” she says, leading me up the stairs. “He swept me off my feet. I was about your age when we met.”
I take my place next to her as we make our ascent, the staircase wide enough to fit us both. “Sorry for your loss.”
“For such a young girl, you know a thing or two about loss, so I don’t need to tell you that the pain is always there and that some days are better than others.”
I nod. “I know what you mean. My mother passed away when I was ten years old and my father a few years ago.”
She places her hand on my back when we reach the top landing and guides me toward our destination. “You could use some love in your heart to replace the sadness. I’ll be rooting for you tonight.” Her smile is contagious, wide and bright, and having a mirroring effect on me.
“I just want one kiss from him. That’s all. For one night, I want him to look at me and see me if that makes sense.”
“Perfect sense,” she says, pushing open a bedroom door for us to enter. “But it’s never just one kiss, you know. I thought the same thing with my late husband, and then over fifty years later, I was packing up our house in North Carolina to move to Pennsylvania to deal with some unfinished business.”
She doesn’t offer more, and I don’t dare push her.
