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Besides, people could try all they wanted, but there was no future for Nic and Charity. Even if they did kiss again, it was only putting off the inevitable. And the more she let herself forget that, the harder it would be when Nic did walk away from Misty Mountain again.
14
Monday night was salad night at the Winters house. Always had been, always would be.
Nic stood in the kitchen, admiring the spread his mom had set out. A large bowl of lettuce followed by a series of smaller bowls—tomatoes, chopped-up onions, cheese, some grilled chicken... He and his dad stood back, letting his mom go first.
“Does she set all this out when it’s just the two of you?” Nic asked his dad.
“She likes a good buffet,” his dad said with a chuckle.
His parents loved each other. That mattered more to Nic than ever before. His ex-wife’s parents had been divorced, and now, as a divorcé himself, he realized just what an accomplishment it was for two people to work through their problems and stay together. He would have done that with Em if only she’d been willing to work at it too, but she’d checked out of their marriage just a few months in.
“Don’t make me do this alone,” his mom said. She was already to the cheese by then, holding the little spoon that she’d used to scoop out small amounts.
“So, what do you do for dinner on Tuesday nights?” Nic asked, racking his brain for what they’d done growing up. He couldn’t remember for the life of him.
“Your mom either makes a meatloaf or pot roast, and then we eat on it Wednesday and Thursday nights,” his dad said, following Nic to the start of his mom’s buffet.
“And Friday night, we do pizza, remember?” His mom smiled at him as he picked up the tongs and prepared to grab a bundle of lettuce to drop into his bowl.
Pizza night. The two words reminded him of the meal he shared with Charity after the Christmas parade. His dad had always swung by Cloudtop Pizzeria to grab a stack of pizzas for the family. Delivery hadn’t been an option when he was growing up.
“Of course, on Monday mornings, your mom has book club now,” his dad said.
“Book club.”
Nic didn’t mean to sound so surprised. It wasn’t that his mom was lacking social skills or anything. She’d just always been a bit of a loner. She preferred a night at home reading to going out.
He always had a feeling that was one of the reasons she hadn’t stuck around Misty Mountain very much. The nearby suburbs allowed her to run in and out of grocery stores and shops without risking running into anyone she knew. She loved shopping. She just couldn’t be bothered with idle chitchat.
“I’m in a book club,” she said.
“In Sawyerville?” Nic asked.
“Here in town,” his dad said. Surprise came through in his voice. “She’s actually socializing with Misty Mountaineers.”
Misty Mountaineers. Nic had certainly never heard their town residents called that. But when he turned to look at his mom, he saw a little bit of hurt in her eyes.
“It’s not that I thought I was better than anyone else,” she said. “I just value my privacy.”
She grabbed a breadstick from the bowl at the end of her impromptu buffet and headed over to the table. Nic and his dad exchanged a look. That look clearly said “Uh-oh.”
“I get it,” Nic said, eager to push the conversation forward. He sprinkled some cheese over his lettuce, tomatoes, and onions. “That’s one thing I don’t like about living in an apartment. Even in the apartment I shared with Em, everyone was in everybody else’s business. I had this one neighbor who ran out her patio door every time she saw me getting in or out of my truck.”
His dad laughed. “I get enough of that at work. I spend most of my day trying to move personal conversations along so I don’t run behind on my appointments.”
“Exactly,” his mom said. After setting her stuff down, she’d crossed to the refrigerator and retrieved the pitcher of sweet tea she’d made. “But it’s not that.” She paused near the counter where Nic had just piled a heap of cut-up grilled chicken onto his salad. “It’s more everyone knowing my personal business.”
Yeah, hedefinitelygot that. He’d only been back in town a couple of days, and he’d felt the scrutiny everywhere he’d gone. It might sound paranoid, but he was pretty sure the entire town was buzzing about him and Charity. That would never happen in Lexington or nearby Sawyerville.
“Tell us about your day,” his mom said as soon as Nic sat down. “You said you were helping out at the library?”
Oh, that. He’d forgotten he’d mentioned that to his mom earlier. He’d just been making conversation at the time, with no idea it might come up later. She hadn’t said a word, so he thought he’d gotten off without explaining. He’d been wrong.
“Just helping decorate for the Christmas season,” he said. “Apparently volunteers do that every year.”
His dad sat down and pulled his napkin from under his silverware, dislodging it in the process. As he spread the napkin across his lap, Nic’s mother leaned forward, staring at her son through narrowed eyes.
