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Chapter 5
The professional voice on the other end of the line implied she’d be in good hands. Anne stood on the sidewalk, outside the bakery, under a large Elm tree, concentrating on the multitude of information that was being dispensed into her ear while gazing at both sides of Ocean Avenue. At this hour of the morning, all the shops were open, and she nodded and smiled at a few people who passed by.
“Uh-huh. Yes. I understand. Be careful with cats’ litterboxes, buy home testing kits, and … What was the third one?” She looked back to see that no one from the bakery was behind her. “Oh, yes. No need to extricate my IUD until I’m ready. Um … Like I told you before, right now it’s an if and when. I don’t … I’m not ready to start.”
She finished the call and peeked into the bakery. Connie was busy cleaning the display glasses.
“Connie, there’s something I have to do. Is it—”
“Sure, hon. I’m good. Take your time,” Connie replied, straightening up, her light brown hair waving in the breeze that came through the open door.
“Thanks.”
She walked up the main street and into Sarah Latimer’s warmly decorated pharmacy. The place looked like it belonged in a quaint English village.
Of all the things the woman from the clinic had told her, the only thing she could do without committing yet was to buy ovulation test kits. Only when she stepped into the pharmacy and the bell over the door announced her entry, Anne realized that buying these at Sarah’s, who was Connie’s former sister-in-law and best friend, and Libby’s aunt, could be an issue. She hadn’t told anyone about it, not even her parents, not wanting their pressure, concerns, and hopes in case it doesn’t work out. Though she trusted Sarah’s professionalism, it was an unnecessary risk when she could buy those kits in another town.
“Hey, Anne, sweetie. How can I help you?” Sarah asked. Her hair color, which she changed every few months, was light brown. Having rather smooth skin at sixty, she looked younger than she really was.
“Um, hi. I just came in for Tylenol. I ran out.”
“Sure,” Sarah said, already spinning on her heel to the medicine drawers and cabinets behind her. “Regular strength? Extra?”
“Regular. Thanks.”
“Would that be all?” Sarah asked, tilting her head a bit as if she was examining her.
Anne hesitated for a moment. “No. I need these, too,” she said, then went to a nearby shelf and picked up two kits.
“Sure thing, dear,” Sarah said without a muscle moving in her face. She scanned the boxes and put them in a bag, along with the Tylenol. “Do you know how to use these?” she asked, her gaze focused on the computer as she processed the sale.
“Yes.”
“There you go,” Sarah said, handing her the bag. “Good luck.”
“Thanks.” She took two steps toward the exit, then turned. “Sarah—”
“All’s well. I know my job, rest assured, dear. But if you need to consult, I’m here,” Sarah cut in, raising her palm in front of her in a don’t-worry gesture.
“Thanks,” she repeated.
Back at the bakery, she had to work on two cake orders; one for a Bat Mitzvah and one for a Quinceañera.
That evening, it was her turn to do the food rounds again. When she had the evenings or mornings off, she worked on her Etsy commissioned paintings and cooked for herself with the TV in the background, playing a rom-com or a sitcom, nothing too heavy. Sometimes, she went down to the beach, wearing a ton of the highest SPF sunscreen, or drove to an art show if there was something good in the more touristic towns around. She didn’t mind going alone, though she enjoyed going with Bella when she could find a babysitter.
Bella lived with her three children on the third floor in a condo that used to be a motel in the 80s. Its pool had been turned into a playground. Her husband was deployed in low-ranking military positions, and she preferred to stay in her hometown rather than move the kids around to follow him.
Anne had two food drops on Libby’s list in that building. Though Bella had managed to keep her head above the water just enough to not make it into Social Services list, twice a week, when it was her turn, Anne would leave her a box. “I always have extras,” she had explained, knowing that Bella could use the help, though she worked a part-time job as a secretary in the local school.
Reaching her destination, Anne parked the car then got out to climb the stairs.
Both late-blooming wallflowers, even when she and Bella had become closer in their last year of high school, they weren’t friends in the full sense of the word—telling each other their deepest secrets and sharing everything. However, they had kept in touch through most of Anne’s college years and had renewed their friendship after her recent return to Riviera View.
Working at the same school as Avery and Hope, Bella sometimes divulged stories about Avery, which made Anne realize that her cousin hadn’t changed much in all these years.
“Hey.” Bella opened the door. “Come in. My sassy teenager is staying at a friend’s tonight, and I managed to get the little ones to sleep. Coffee first?” Her kids were fourteen, ten, and six.
“You bet.” Anne placed the box on the kitchen table.
