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“Avonlea is fine,” I replied, cutting her off. I’d hoped for a different room. Avonlea and I had a lot of history, but I wasn’t one to complain.
“Okay, then,” she said as she continued pecking the keyboard. Millie reached under the counter and took out a keychain that had a straw hat and two red, braided pigtails on it. “Here you go. The Avonlea is just up the stairs, the second door to the right. There is an ensuite bathroom for you, and breakfast is from seven thirty until eight thirty.” She paused. “But we don’t let anyone starve.”
I took the key from her hand. “I remember,” I replied. Evelyn fed me more times than I cared to admit over the years, but Millie wouldn’t remember that. “Thanks, Millie. It’s really good to see you again.”
“You too, Tuck.”
I was heading up the stairs when Millie hollered to me once more. “Does she know you’re here? Lettie? Does she know you’re back?”
I didn’t turn around for a moment, trying to pull myself together and force a smile. When I finally did, I placed my hands in a prayer position in front of me.
“Let’s just keep it between us for now, okay?” And I headed up the beautiful and antique oak staircase to my room.
Lettie Carlton.
Just hearing that name made my blood turn to ice and my stomach drop to my knees. Lettie and I had a lot of history, too.
FOURTEEN
2005
TUCK
I was nervous.More nervous than I had ever been for a first date, and I paced around outside the front of the bakery, smoking a cigarette and running my hands through my hair. What was I thinking? Lettie was so far out of my league, I couldn’t believe I had even convinced her to talk to me, let alone go on a date. She drove a Mercedes for Christ’s sake, which was a far cry from the 1980 Chevy Silverado I was driving.
I had just planned to run away, to cancel the whole thing and forget it ever happened, when I saw her pull into a parking spot and get out of the car.
Too late now.
She stepped one leg out of her car and leaned out, practically in slow motion. I felt my breath catch in my chest. I think I may have even audibly gasped at her beauty. Her hair was long and thick and so red, it practically matched her lipstick. She had on heels that were entirely too tall for this town and a pair of sunglasses so big, I could barely see her face.
Yet, somehow, it all looked perfect on her.
She walked over to me with an enthusiastic wave and held onto the tiny strap of her purse that was hanging across her body. She was wearing a much more revealing outfit today. A black, lacy tank top and a white skirt with that GG belt she’d been wearing the day before. She had a gold watch on her left wrist and rings that covered most of her impeccably manicured fingers.
“Tuck! Hey! How are you?” She rushed up to me and gave me a hug, kissing me on the cheek. Her perfume filled my nose, and I inhaled in the least creepy way I could. Vanilla.
“Hey, Lettie. You look beautiful.”
She giggled. “I am going to have to get used to ‘Lettie.’” She pulled her sunglasses to the top of her head. “I like it though.”
“I’m glad.” I stood in front of her with my hands in my pockets, anxiety rushing through my veins.
Why did she make me so nervous? I had never met a girl who made my palms sweat the way she did.
“Did you have any trouble getting out of the house?”
“Nope,” she replied, smiling. “I just told them I was going to the library. They won’t expect me home until my curfew at ten.”
She looked proud of herself, like she had become a daredevil overnight, but I could see we needed to work on her lying skills. The library?
“Do you think the library was a good cover? Won’t they suspect something? I mean, who spends five hours in the library on a Saturday night?”
She shifted on her feet and looked around. “Yeah, no. I don’t think they’ll be suspicious.” She paused before I saw her cheeks turn a shade of pink. “I kind of love the library. I’m there literally all the time. If I’m not studying, I’m reading. It’s my comfort place.”
I pulled my lips in, not because I thought it was funny that she enjoyed the library, but because I thought it was so damn cute that she would spend her Saturday night in one.
“Okay, ha ha, rich girl is a closet nerd. Laugh it up,” she said, playfully hitting me on the arm. “I see you trying not to laugh.”
