memory. “It sure was.”
Lida leaned forward again to look into Arden’s eyes. “Your body might be easily led astray, but your heart knows what it wants. Listen to it, Arden.”
Good advice, Arden thought, if she was brave enough to take it.
Shane didn’t call her until Tuesday afternoon, and by that time Arden had convinced herself he wasn’t going to. She’d put her fingers to the phone to dial his number a dozen times on Monday, but had never done it. She hadn’t logged on to her instant messaging account either, afraid to see his name show up on her friends list and know he was ignoring her. When the phone rang at the shop, she answered it with a mouth full of pins, her mind full of the dress she was sewing and the idea she had for a new pattern.
“Arden?”
Shane’s voice filled her with warmth, like gooey caramel. She spit out the pins. “Hi.”
“I figured you’d be here, not at home.”
“Here I am. I’m here a lot,” she added, talking too fast but unable to stop herself. “It’s my, you know. Job.”
Even through the phone she sensed an awkwardness to their conversation that she didn’t like. Shane’s breathing filled her ear. Heat flared inside her at the memory of the way his breath had caressed her.
“Can I take you to lunch?”
She looked at the clock, already knowing she was going to say yes. “I only have an hour, I have an appointment—”
“I’ll come to you.”
Shane showed up in ten minutes, grease-spotted paper sacks in one hand and a paper tray of specialty coffees in the other. Lunch turned out to be delicious grilled sandwiches and homemade fries from the coffee shop down the street, and though Arden always promised herself she’d limit herself to just half a sandwich from that place, she ended up eating the whole thing.
“So. Freaking. Good.” She wiped the corner of her mouth with her pinky, catching a glob of dressing and tucking it into her mouth. Focusing on the food was an easy way to keep from blurting out an apology for what she’d said the morning “after.” Or from diving across her desk and tackling him for a little naked time right then and there.
“Love their stuff. I told you, pancakes and tuna are the extent of my kitchen skills. I’d starve if it weren’t for take-out or my mom’s leftovers.”
Arden tilted her head as she sipped from her coffee drink. She’d never met Shane’s family back in the day—they’d spent hours together fucking, but introductions to family and friends had never come up. It had all ended before that could seem important. Still, Annville and its neighbors were all small towns. She’d heard things.
“Your mom still lives in Palmyra?”
He smiled. “Yeah. She got remarried a few years after my dad died.”
“Oh...I’m sorry. I mean about your dad, not about your mom getting remarried. Unless that’s a bad thing?” Arden bit down on her tongue to keep herself from more word-vomit. She hadn’t even known his dad had passed away and felt doubly stupid for it.
“No. It’s a good thing. Ken’s a good guy. He’s not my dad or anything, but he’s good to my mom.” Shane shrugged and dipped a last few fries into some horseradish sauce.
“That’s good.”
“Ken was smart, made sure I knew he wasn’t trying to replace my dad or anything like that. He was...respectful, I guess you could say. He did it the right way, not like some guys who go in and try to make everything fit around them. You can’t ever replace anyone’s father.”
Arden focused her attention on her napkin, wiping her fingers and crumpling up her trash to toss in the pail to give her a reason not to look at him so she wouldn’t give away how close to tears she suddenly found herself. Was he trying to tell her something?
“No. I guess you can’t.”
“Anyway, I was a grown-up. Mostly. Sort of.” His smile was a little tilted, but he didn’t drop his gaze. “Not like your kids. It must’ve been really hard for them.”
She thought about that. “It’s been hard for all of us. I used to be afraid they were so young they’d forget him, you know? And I see it in the way they talk about him sometimes. More like a story they’ve been told over and over than something real to them. It hurts, but maybe it’s a blessing, too, you know? That they have this happy story to remember...”
She trailed