Page 39 of Better Off Wed
Frustration made my blood simmer. Was that why Sadie had seemed so happy when she walked out of the study? I gulped back my retort and asked, “You wanted to speak to me?”
“Take a seat, Gideon, and tell me how things are going with your wife.”
I knew that calm, unruffled tone. My grandmother would get her way. I sighed, considered storming out and chasing after Sadie, and finally gave up and took a seat.
THIRTEEN
SADIE
My head whirled for two full days, and then on Wednesday morning, I got the keys from Melinda in front of Life’s a Stitch. “Here’s my card,” the auburn-haired woman said. She wore a bright blue suit and a wide smile. “Call me if you need anything. Ta-ta!”
“Thanks,” I called out as she hurried back to her car. I turned to the door, slid in the key, and walked in.
The air was thick with dust. The far wall was covered with storage cabinets, and there were two long worktables to my right, with a small reception desk straight ahead. Two sewing machines sat silent on the worktables. I flicked the lights, then made a slow loop of the room. There was a small staff bathroom and a tiny storage closet at the back, with a door through to the alley behind. The worktables were solid, but both machines looked like they needed to be serviced.
I took out my phone and started making a list. I’d need a new fluorescent bulb to replace the one that was flickeringoverhead. While I was at it, I might as well buy a good desk lamp to clamp to the edge of one of these worktables. I tested one of the chairs and decided it would do, then checked the storage closet for cleaning supplies.
Nothing.
Looked like another marathon cleaning session was needed. I sighed. But first, matcha.
Knead More Bread was only three doors down. I smiled as I inhaled the scent of coffee and fresh baked bread, getting in line behind the man who owned the hardware store. He gave me a friendly nod and made a comment about the weather.
When it was my turn, I smiled at Caroline behind the counter. “The usual?” she asked, and my heart soared. I’d been in town just over two weeks, and the local café knew my order.
Things with Gideon weren’t amazing, but they weren’tbad. Maybe in the next four weeks, we’d find our groove. Maybe I’d get to reopen my business. Maybe everything would work out, even if I didn’t find true love.
At least there were plenty of friendly faces in town.
“I’m still shocked that a small town like this has matcha lattes,” I said, pulling out my card to pay. “I mean, I wasn’t even expecting you to have almond milk.”
She gave me a strange look, a smile with a confused frown, and I flushed. I’d basically just called her town a backwater dump that hadn’t entered the era of alternative milks. But Caroline just shook her head, charged my card, and started making my matcha latte.
“Gid tell you about Mr. Titty’s latest artwork?” she asked me over the hissing of the espresso machine.
I shook my head. Gideon hadn’t told me much of anythinglately. But that was our deal, wasn’t it? My heart and body would get the memo eventually.
Caroline tilted her head toward Main Street. “Up the road a few blocks. Huge tits.” She set the jug of steamed milk down to gesture with her hands. “Gigantic. Over on the museum’s facade.”
“Mr. Titty does not care about Marswood Harbor’s historical significance.”
Caroline snorted, like she wanted to laugh but knew she shouldn’t. She shook her head. “I think it’s a message. That museum was paid for by Etta Mars.”
My brows jumped. “You think whoever’s doing this graffiti isn’t happy about the marriages.” I’d heard chatter about more matches being in the works. Wedding bells were going to be ringing with great regularity in town, if Etta got her way.
Hopefully they would be more successful than mine.
Caroline shrugged as she poured the milk into the cup. “Lots of people just want to keep to themselves. They don’t like change.”
“And you?”
She slid my drink across the counter and smiled. “I like the extra business you’re bringing to my bakery.”
“That’s all I am to you, huh?” I asked, clicking my tongue.
She laughed. “There’s a trivia night at Bertie’s tomorrow night,” she said, naming one of the three bars in town. “We need another person to have a full team. You should come and join. Then maybe you can become more than a frou-frou drink to me.”
“You are so rude,” I said, and took a sip. “You’re lucky you make good matcha.”
