Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136743 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 684(@200wpm)___ 547(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
I reach for one and, before I can talk myself out of it, respond, “I’ll take it.”
Tremaine eyes me with surprise. “Need to mark your place in one of your accountant handbooks?”
“Something like that.” I grin but don’t look at her as I pay for the bookmark. “Speaking of which, I think I’m gonna take off. Get some work done.”
“All right.” Holding Kent’s hand, she rises up on tiptoe to kiss my cheek. “Thanks for coming. I know you had other—”
“Farm to table!” A tall woman dressed in a discreetly expensive, deceptively casual dress brandishes flyers. “We have a few more spots for Soledad’s Farm-to-Table Experience.”
I stare at the woman, not just because she said Soledad’s name, but because she looks vaguely familiar. She must feel the same because she narrows her eyes and tilts her head like she’s trying to place me.
“You’re the accountant,” she finally says, a smile on her striking face. “I met you at Soledad’s house. It’s Judah, right?”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, surprised she remembers. “Great memory.”
“I’m her friend Hendrix.”
“Nice seeing you again.” I try not to sound too interested. “What’s this for?”
“Soledad’s dining experience.” She waves the flyers. “Food she’s prepared at a table she’s set. Basically like attending one of Sol’s dinner parties.”
“Soledad with the vinaigrette?” Tremaine asks, her voice perking up. “Oh, I follow her. She’s here?”
“Yeah.” Hendrix smiles broadly. “She’s prepared a meal completely sourced from local growers, butchers, and fishermen. We had a three o’clock and a six o’clock seating, but those are sold out. We had to add a nine o’clock to meet the demand.”
“You said the three and six are sold out?” Kent asks. “That’s too bad. I would have loved to go, but we’ll be leaving soon.”
“Yeah.” Tremaine pushes her lips into a disappointed moue. “I need to get back home.”
“Maybe next time,” Hendrix says.
I must be eyeing those flyers like they’re winning lotto tickets because Hendrix smirks knowingly and hands me one. “Just in case you change your mind.”
“You’re leaving, right?” Tremaine turns to me.
“Uh, yeah,” I answer absently, my attention following Hendrix walking away. “I really need to go.”
“Can we check out the pumpkin carving, Mom?” Adam asks.
He takes off as soon as she says yes, but circles back to grab Aaron’s hand and drag him along. Aaron has his cube out, a sure indicator that he’s losing interest in this event.
“We better go after them,” Tremaine says. “See you tomorrow. I’ll drop the boys off around six.”
“Got it,” I acknowledge. “Bye, Kent.”
In moments, they’re swallowed by the bustling crowd. Instead of heading for my car, I search the field for the pavilion with a sign that reads Soledad’s Farm-to-Table Experience. It’s only five o’clock. Hendrix said the six o’clock seating is sold out.
I could go home and work for a while… and then come back at nine.
CHAPTER TWENTY
SOLEDAD
Last dinner of the day,” Yasmen says, setting a mason jar of flowers on one of the long tables lined up under the pavilion. “I always have great ideas, but even I didn’t realize how successful this would be. We had to add another dinner, Sol.”
“I know.” I shake my head, still flabbergasted.
I take in all the details of the pavilion. The fairy lights strung overhead and candles glimmering on the tables make it feel warm and intimate. Rows of long wooden tables lined up and trimmed with wildflowers splash color in the dimness of evening. There’s a poignancy the night lends the space that day didn’t allow.
“This is the hottest date in Skyland tonight,” Yasmen says.
“It’s the hottest,” Josiah says, grabbing her from behind, “because you’re here.”
“Oh, dropping lines, are we, Mr. Wade? You don’t have to prove to me you still got game,” Yasmen says, turning to loop her arms around his neck.
“I want to keep you interested, Mrs. Wade.” His smile is loving, and his eyes never leave her face, as if they’re alone.
“Hey, Sol,” he says, turning his smile on me. “This is amazing.”
“Thank you,” I answer. “Didn’t expect to see you away from Grits on a Saturday night.”
“The manager’s got it,” he says. “Though it was definitely busy. The kitchen is slammed. I’m going back. I just had to see my girl.”
“Oh, because it’s been so long since we saw each other.” Yasmen laughs. “A whole six hours.”
“I missed you,” he whispers, kissing her cheek.
She casts an unrepentant look my way. “Sorry, Sol. I promise you’ll have my undivided attention as soon as I get rid of this guy.”
My heart burns for a second with a desire to have that, but I shelve it. My desire for a meaningful, passionate connection with someone doesn’t go away while I’m “dating myself.” I’m working on me, so when I do find that person, I’m the most whole version of myself I can be. For now, the occasional twinge of longing is nothing compared to what I’m learning. Nothing compared to how I’ve been loving and knowing myself.