AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I recalled Alexander once saying,You can change jobs, Ava. What do youwantto do? It’s your choice, not the other way around.
He’d had what seemed like a zillion jobs, and not because he’d been a little more than a decade older than I was but because he bored easily. When I first met him, he’d been a manager at a local restaurant. Our friendship had grown slowly. We’d chatted at length whenever I placed a to-go order. Then he quit that job and began working as a food and beverage manager at the baseball stadium. He left there not long after we started officially dating, having managed to talk a buddy of his, a brewpub owner, into letting him try his hand at brewing beer. Alexander was always eager to leap headlong into something new and had never understood my reluctance to uproot myself.
Maggie said, “Some people’s paths are more winding than others, but eventually she’ll reach her destination. She’ll figure it out. Give her time.”
I stole another look at Maggie. She didn’t seem to notice how her words had worked into my soul, wrapped around my heart. Squeezed.
Bettina clasped her hands together. “Sure enough. It’s a dang shame her stint at the coffee shop didn’t work out. I’d had high hopes.”
“Me too.” Maggie made a show of looking at her watch.
“Oh!” Bettina exclaimed. “I don’t mean to be keeping you so long. I need to ask a favor, Maggie, and I’m sure hoping you’ll say yes.”
Maggie’s smile tightened, and I thought I detected a slight note of panic in her voice as she said, “What can I do for you?”
“The Happy Clams just found out a pipe burst in our Foley warehouse, and lordy mercy, it’s a nightmare. All our décor is ruined! We’ve called an emergency meeting for tomorrow morning to discuss our options. Mardi Gras is a scant five months away. We’re in panic mode.”
I’d lost my way in her words atHappy Clamsand was completely puzzled by the mention of Mardi Gras.
Maggie must’ve sensed my confusion, because she translated for me. “The Happy Clams is a Mardi Gras krewe—a social group—that has had a float in the Gulf Shores Mardi Gras parade for the last fifty years. Their float and décor are stored in a warehouse in Foley, a town a little north of here.”
Bettina grinned. “If you’re still here in February, you’re in for a treat, Ava. I’d invite you to sit on our float, but we’re an organization comprised only ofseasonedwomen—women of a certain age—but I surely do hope you’ll join the Snail Slippers, our walking group. The name is a play on the slipper snail,” she added. “You’ll find their shells all along the beach, don’t even have to look too hard. All ages are welcome, men and women alike. Pets are allowed, too. We even have a chicken in the group. We meet on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays on the green at sevenA.M. We usually wrap up around eight, three laps later.”
My brain calculated mileage. According to my GPS when I drove into town this morning, one length of the square was a quarter mile. A full lap would be a mile, so three laps would be three miles. Dare I walk three miles? In the southern heat and humidity?
I waffled, fighting old fears. But how fast could the group possibly walk if it hadsnailsin its name? I was sure I could handle it. “I’d like to join in,” I said, testing my wings. “Thank you.”
“Splendid! Just find me in the crowd and I’ll introduce you around. Now, Maggie, I know it’s short notice, but we’d sure love for Magpie’s to supply a light refreshment at the meetingtomorrow morning. Nothing fancy, of course. An assortment of drinks and nibbles for twelve. Is it possible? Could you? Pretty please?” she asked, pressing her hands together as if in prayer.
“I’m not sure it’s— I need to check with—” Maggie sighed. “I’d be happy to help.”
“Oh!” Bettina squealed again and gave Maggie an enthusiastic hug.
For a moment, I thought I was going to have to borrow the Jaws of Life to pull Maggie free, but Bettina finally released her.
“You’re the best, Maggie Brightwell.” She stole a look at her watch. “Ooh, I must get going. See you tomorrow. NineA.M. at Delaney Parrentine’s house. Lovely to meet you, Ava. Toodles!”
She spun away, rushing off the way she’d come, and I glanced at Maggie. Her smile faltered briefly before she shored it up again. “Fair warning, by noon, the whole town will know you’re here and why.”
“Is there really a chicken in the Snail Slippers group?”
“Sure thing. Cluck-Cluck is her name, chosen by Jolly Smith’s four-year-old granddaughter, Hannah, who is eyeball deep in a Cinderella phase.”
I smiled, recalling how one of the mice in the Disney movie called chickens cluck-clucks.
“Jolly’s chicken walks on a leash and everything. It’s a sight to see.”
My smile widened, making my cheeks ache. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
“Bettina can be a little overwhelming,” Maggie said as we started walking again. “If she gets to be too much while you’re with the Snail Slippers, just duck into the coffee shop on one of your laps around the square to hide out for a while.”
“I’ll remember that. Thanks.” I stepped over a flower that grew out of the brick sidewalk. “Is there a story behind Sienna’s brief employment at Magpie’s?”
She laughed lightly. “Sienna has what I’d callcoordinationissues. In one short four-hour shift, she broke the credit card reader and the grinder, knocked over the display case of beansand mugs, and burned Rose with the steam wand. She’s a lovely girl, truly, but she isn’t well suited for a coffee shop work environment.”
Ahead, a bakery van turned the corner and Maggie lit up, her deep-blue eyes sparkling in the sunshine. She waved her arm, flagging down the driver. A window powered down, and a man leaned out. He had brown hair with a hint of gray at the temples, blue-green eyes, and a devilish smile.
“You were just the man I was hoping to see,” Maggie said.
