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Jamie closes her eyes and inhales through her nose. “Yum. Can we eat yet?”
I check my watch; it’s five minutes past the time we said we’d start, so people should be showing up any minute. Sure enough, a couple of cars are pulling into the parking area, twenty-something singles spilling out with happy chatter.
Here we go.
I spend the next half hour working the crowd and making sure the napkins don’t blow away in the breeze. The turnout is excellent, which unfortunately means Jamie and I won’t be getting leftovers of Pastor Will’s amazing meat and potatoes.
I spot him and his wife, Elaine, talking to someone at the end of the line. They’re probably in their midforties but they have the energy to really connect with the younger set. Elaine smiles and waves me over, and I decide I’d better get some food before it’s all gone. I check the napkins one more time and greet a few people in line as I make my way to her.
“Tomas Financial?” Pastor Will asks, getting a nod from the guy they’re talking to. “That’s just off North Avenue, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” the guy says, turning as I arrive to give me a heart attack.
Noah.
My brain goes full panic.
“Grace,” he says, the social smile he’s wearing for the Johnsons spreading into a real one.
I’ve never seen him with a full smile. Not directed atme, anyway. And now I can’t think and I’m staring at him and my face is hot and I am a complete, dumb idiot.
Elaine covers for me with a grace I didn’t receive with my name. “You know each other?”
She’s waiting for my answer, but I’m still in shock. What do I say here?Yeah, but only confrontationally...
“We do,” Noah says, touching my elbow with a cool hand, guaranteeing another lengthy, silent heart attack from me and a thousand questions in Elaine’s eyes. “How are you?”
I can’t answer that for a million dollars. I have no idea. He’s the one who brushed me off. I’m speechless with no end in sight, but Jamie shows up in time to save me.
She takes stock of our group and the look on my face and helps out. “I’m Jamie Alvarez,” she says, offering her hand to Noah.
He’s still looking at me—head tilted to one side, throwing me back to our tutoring days—but he takes his eyes from mine to greet Jamie. “Noah Jennings,” he says.
“Nice to meet you,” she says, turning to me and sending some telepathic moral support with her big brown eyes. “Chris wanted me to come ask you how soon we’re going to start the games.”
“Uhh,” I manage with exceptional eloquence, looking at the dwindling food line, “ten minutes?”
She bobs her head and leaves, with a glance at Noah and a telepathic“hang in there”for me.
“So how do you know each other?” Pastor Will asks.
Noah manages to summarize our past in one sentence that makes us sound like we’re friendly acquaintances instead of awkward antagonists. “We met through her brother-in-law, and then I was her math tutor at Oak Hills, and we ended up in the same volunteer group this spring at an orphanage in Mexico.” He’s standing straighter than I remember, shoulders back instead of weighed down. Confident.
“It’s always nice to run into old friends,” Elaine says as we get to the food table. She somehow managesnotto load that statement with expectation, for which I am eternally grateful.
Noah steps aside so they can go first, then grabs two plates and hands one to me. “So really. How are you?”
I can’t help the confusion that must show on my face. He waits patiently.
“Fine?” I can’t help make it a question because I’m not sure what’s up or down right now.
Noah Jennings.
Here.
Making small talk.
With me.
