Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“Thank you,” I say, a little surprised. “I appreciate you reading it.”
Noor smiles. “Of course.”
This sort of thing is always a little awkward. But my curiosity is real. “Dare I ask what you thought of the story?”
“I was hoping you would,” says Noor. “I was an English teacher here at our local high school for many years.”
“That’s great.”
“Yes. You’re a wonderful writer. The book we read was a lot of fun. Very hard to put down, and I found myself getting choked up during the emotional parts. You have a way with words and a gift for telling stories, Riley. I am working on your backlist, but when can we expect your next one?”
I wince. “Let me get back to you about that.”
“Oh no,” says Joyce. “What’s wrong?”
“Is it writer’s block?” asks Noor.
I just nod.
“For how long?”
“Since I moved to town.”
“Just this week?” asks Joyce. “That’s not so bad. You’ve been busy. Give yourself a chance to settle in and get comfortable.”
Martha sets down her tablet on her lap. “If you lot are finished, I want to talk about you and my grandson.”
“Time to spill the tea, huh?” I respond.
Someone walks into the café and up to the counter to order. Business is quiet, though the weather can’t be helping. Things probably pick up around lunchtime.
When the patron is out of earshot, Joyce asks with much enthusiasm, “Did your heart beat all fast and fluttery when you first saw him?”
“Yes, it did,” I answer. “Though some of that might have been due to there being a large, strange male standing outside my door.”
“But some of it was also thanks to him having a nice tush, right?” Joyce says.
I laugh.
“He is very nice to look at,” says Noor. “So tall, blond and handsome. And so strong too. This one time he was moving a big tree branch that had come down in a storm for me. I’m not ashamed to say I poured myself a glass of iced tea and took a seat on the patio to watch.”
Martha clucks her tongue. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I’m not dead yet and I’m not related to him either,” says Noor, working on her cross-stitch as she speaks. “It’s like the potter Beatrice Wood said. The secret to long life is chocolate, art books, and young men. Or something like that. I can’t remember the quote exactly.”
Martha does not appear convinced.
“He is very handsome,” I admit. Something tells me anything other than the truth won’t work. These three are too canny. “But he’s other things too. I don’t know. It just feels good being around him.”
“How do you mean, Riley?” asks Joyce.
A bead of perspiration runs down the side of my glass. I track its path with the tip of my finger. “He asks me what I’m thinking and he listens when I speak. That’s a low bar, but in all honesty, not many others have made it. And I’m comfortable with him, pretty much have been right from the start. I think it’s because he has this honest, genuine quality about him, and it makes me feel like I can be completely myself with him too. He knows who he is and is comfortable within himself. And he loves his family. The funny stories he told me about Lulu when she was little were so cute. How he used to babysit her. And I love his curiosity. The way he wants to talk about all sorts of things. His mind is open and his heart is large and…I really like him. Like a scary amount.”
Joyce arches her brows. “You say that like it surprises you. That you’re comfortable with him.”
“Yeah. I guess it does. He seemed so serious and moody at first, but he’s actually really funny and interesting and he has this great smile. It makes my tummy do weird loops. Though just the sight of him does that. The thought of him too.”
“He took you home to meet his family,” says Noor. “That’s a good sign.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“Alright,” says Martha in a far less friendly tone of voice. “You said you weren’t looking for a relationship. What changed?”
Joyce shrugs. “She met him, of course.”
“Sometimes that’s all it takes.” Noor gently pulls on her needle and thread. “I stopped dating years ago. As Whoopi Goldberg said, I don’t want somebody in my house. But I wish you all the best, darling.”
I smile. “Thank you.”
Martha watches me in silence. The first time Connor and I met, he said something about his grandmother mentioning it was a pity we weren’t together. How it might solve some of his problems. He swore he wouldn’t tell anyone about our agreement. But I do wonder what she’s guessed about us.
“Did he invite you to his fifteen-year reunion dance at the high school this Saturday?” asks Joyce.