Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96512 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
But there’s always hope. That’s what life’s taught me these last thirty-two years—there’s always hope.
EIGHT
Juniper
Riley and I probably look like children’s entertainers as we walk down Main Street in our matching outfits. We’re both wearing paint-splattered overalls and blue t-shirts, and our hair is in scarves. Except Riley’s outfit is a little smaller than mine.
“Mom, can you take my picture? None of my friends believe that I’m an artist.”
“You want a picture in front of Marv?” I ask, nodding toward the life-sized moose that sits outside Snail Trail—the outdoors store on Main Street.
She rolls her eyes like she’s barely tolerating me. “No, Mom. I grew out of photographs with Marv two years ago.”
“Oh, sorry. But it’s cute, having pictures of the two of you together over the years.”
“Mom!” she yells, like I’m insisting Marv be in all our family photographs. “I just want the mountains in the background.”
“Okay,” I reply. “So, go stand with the mountains in the background.”
My studio is in the old candy store. Everyone told Mrs. Peters that a candy store in the middle of Star Falls wasn’t ever going to be a moneymaker, but she didn’t care. She wanted a candy store. She was convinced Star Falls was going to be the next Vail, and she wouldn’t listen to anyone. Mrs. Peters has more money than all the residents of Star Falls combined, so when she finally closed the doors of Candy Cane, no one called it a failure. Mrs. Peters had wanted a candy store, and she’d gotten one.
It was Mrs. Peters who’d offered it up to give me a place to paint. Just until she found someone to rent the premises. I don’t know if commercial real estate is going through a downturn in Colorado, but I can’t remember Mrs. Peters even having anyone looking at the place. Anyway, I give her a painting of the bluebells in the woods behind her house every springtime, and I get a place to paint.
Riley strikes a pose, hands on hips, one leg out in front of the other. I have no idea how my child decided she was going to pose like a Hollywood movie star, but here we are. Eight, going on eighteen.
“You look gorgeous,” I say, and swipe to show her the shots I took before she can ask.
She fiddles with her headscarf and smiles. “We match, Mommy. I love it when we wear the same thing.”
I laugh and scoop up her hand, wondering how long it will be until wearing outfits that match with mine will be the last thing she wants to do. The time is passing by so quickly. Just a second ago, she was the long-awaited, desperately wanted baby in my arms.
She groans. “Don’t get mushy on me, Mom. I know when your eyes go like that, you’re about to say something mushy.”
I nudge her with my elbow. “I’m allowed to be mushy. Mom’s prerogative.”
“Hey, you two!” a woman’s voice calls from behind us.
I spin around, and Rosey’s coming toward us. I haven’t seen her since I went to dinner the other night. The night when I kissed Fisher’s shoulder.
I’ve replayed the evening over and over in my head. I don’t understand how the subject of Riley didn’t come up. I can’t help but wonder what his reaction would have been. It’s not like it makes a difference. Would he have proposed marriage to me if I hadn’t had a kid? No way. So, why am I still thinking about it?
“You two are dressed like twins!” Rosey’s eyes are wide.
“It’s how we like to hang out, isn’t it?” I ask Riley. I hand her my keys. “Why don’t you go and get set up?”
“Thanks, Mom.”
It kind of breaks my heart and fills me with joy at how she takes the keys with such enthusiasm. Even a year ago, she wouldn’t have wanted to go without me. Now, she can’t wait.
“She’s growing so tall,” Rosey says as we watch her sprint toward the back of the old candy store.
“So tall. But better than the opposite.”
Rosey laughs. “Well, I suppose that’s true.”
“Thanks again for dinner the other night. It was such great food. The people up there at the Club are super lucky, eating like that every night.”
“Right?” Rosey asks. “Although sometimes, I just wanna eat Cheetos and M&M’s. But maybe that’s just me.”
“I get it. Sometimes, cheese and crackers is the best meal.”
“Totally.”
I can tell she’s itching to ask me something. Probably about Fisher. It’s not like Rosey to hold back.
“So, it was nice of Fisher to drive you home, right?”
I try and hold back my chuckle. “Super nice. He seems like a really good guy.”
“A really good guy,” she says. “And you two have a bit of chemistry.”
I smile. “Maybe.” I sigh. “But, you know, he lives in New York.”
“But so did Byron when I met him,” Rosey says. “You can’t rule him out just because of that. If I’d done that with Byron, we would have never gotten together, and now I’m with the love of my life, and we’re making it work in Star Falls and New York.”