Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
When did it start between Garrett and me? Was it at the engagement party, when he came to my rescue? Or was it the first moment I laid eyes on him? “I don’t know, but it’s over now.”
Fury twists her features. “Why? What did he do?” she snarls.
Despite everything, I smile. “He didn’t do anything. It was all me.” It feels strange to be divulging secrets about Garrett after we’ve spent so many hours plotting to dismantle him. Then again, HG was Shirley’s true target. HG and the mayor. Garrett was just collateral damage. “We had this amazing night and morning, minus the food poisoning—long story—and I felt myself falling, like truly falling for him. But after Bill … I figure it’s only a matter of time before Garrett gets bored or realizes I’m not marriage material and ends it. So I left. And now he won’t call me.”
“You panicked and ran scared, huh? That doesn’t sound like the Justine I know.” Her lips twist with thought as she pulls out another shortbread. “Did I tell you I had a Bastard Bill once?”
“No. You’ve never mentioned that.” Though Shirley doesn’t talk much about herself. She guards her life stories as if they could be wielded against her.
I wait quietly as she chews and decides how much she’ll divulge.
“His name was Arnold.”
“Asshole Arnold?”
She smirks. “I like that. Asshole Arnold. Arnie, for short. Gosh, we fought a lot. He was so stubborn.”
I purse my lips together.
“Not buying what I’m selling, huh?” She cackles. “Fair enough. It was usually me that was the problem. He called me his firebrand. But when we made up, did we make up. We went on together for almost two years. I sat back and waited for the big question, figured it was a matter of time. Turns out he never had any intention of asking it. I caught him one night, having dinner with Daisy Mulligan. We had it out in a big way, and he told me I was too hotheaded, too opinionated, too strong. Daisy was more marriage material. Polite and agreeable, never raised her voice. The right kind of woman to raise his children and all that.” She shakes her head. “He didn’t want a firebrand. He wanted a wet noodle. But boy, did he ever shred my heart. After that, I didn’t trust any man at their word. Convinced myself they’d all leave me for a Daisy eventually.”
She flips a card over, but I can tell she’s no longer paying attention. “Then along came Daniel. He was a nice man. We were both working at the newspaper in Philly—”
“You worked for the newspaper?” How has she never mentioned this?
“I was there for ten years before I moved back to Polson Falls.”
“A reporter?”
She scoffs. “Secretary. God forbid they allow a woman to write a story.” She rolls her eyes. “He kept courting me. Sending me flowers, asking me out to dinner. We had a lot of fun, kept things casual. I kept things casual until they started feeling like they weren’t. And I wasn’t going down that road again. Anyway, I can’t remember what that last fight was about. Some problem I created in my head and then got all worked up about. Told him I didn’t love him, we were done, and I walked out.” She shakes her head. “I’ve never regretted anything in my life, but I regretted that move.”
This sounds eerily familiar. “Did you ever see him again?”
A smile touches her lips. “I did. I ran into him back in the ’90s, at a funeral for a colleague. He’d never married either, and he’d never stopped thinking about me. We picked right back up where we left off. He proposed within months, and I said yes.”
“You were married?” She’s never mentioned a husband once; there’s no ring on her finger.
“I was. For six wonderful months, and then Daniel died of an aortic aneurysm just before Christmas.”
“Oh.” My shoulders sink, sadness for Shirley dragging my spirits down. “I can’t decide if this is a good story or a terrible one.”
“It’s a cautionary one. I lost decades because I was scared of rejection for being who I am. But Daniel saw who I was from the start and loved me for it. He never wanted a wet noodle. There are men out there like that. And if this developer ends up wanting a wet noodle, then you dust yourself off and move on, to bigger and better things. You don’t run and hide in an assisted living home every Friday night, playing cards with crotchety old ladies.”
“That’s not why I’m here! I happen to like crotchety old ladies. And you should be proud of yourself. When you stir up shit, people listen.” I dig out a cookie and shove it into my mouth. “I think half the town is afraid of you.” Cookie crumbs scatter onto the table.