Dance Away with Me - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,91
wire wedding band tucked in her pocket. Savannah ignored her, and Tess resisted commenting on her co-worker’s edema-swollen feet or the fact that she looked as though she’d been crying.
The after-school crowd arrived. Tess recognized Psycho, Jordan, and Noah. Ava was with Connor, and Tess hated the proprietary way he draped his arm across her shoulders, as if she were his personal coat rack. Noah and Psycho avoided looking at Tess, but Connor gave her a cocky smirk.
As soon as she had a break, she dashed into the back room and grabbed an old piece of poster board and a black marker. On the cleanest side of the poster board, she wrote her message:
COMMUNITY MEETING!
HOW TO TALK TO YOUR TEENAGER ABOUT SEX
She added a date the following week, noted the time beneath it—8:00 p.m.—and the location, the Broken Chimney.
Phish was stationed behind the ice cream freezer when she came out. She marched past him and taped the poster by the front door.
“What the hey-ll, Tess?!” he exclaimed. “Take that down!”
She stalked over to him and leaned close enough so only he could hear. “Do not touch that sign. If it comes down, I’ll tell the whole town that you’re dealing weed out of the back room.”
He looked hurt. “Sharing my stash with friends is not dealing.”
“You heard me. I’m done playing nice.” She stomped toward the door.
“You were never that nice to begin with!” he called after her.
She flipped him the bird and went to get her daughter.
* * *
Wren’s bath the next morning wore her out, and Ian semivolunteered to watch her during Tess’s short, two-hour work shift. “As long as you bring me doughnuts.”
“Done.”
Phish was in a foul mood. “Damn Internet squatters. They think one cup of coffee means they can hog my WiFi all day. And if they’re not doin’ that, they’re yelling about politics or givin’ me a hard time because I don’t have any gol-damn gluten-free doughnuts. What the hey-ll, Tess?”
“Life sucks.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek to make up for yesterday.
Courtney Hoover came in right before Tess’s shift ended. After she’d taken a selfie licking the rim of one of their coffee mugs, she wandered over to the counter. “What are you doing in town, Tess? I thought you’d be on your honeymoon.”
Phish turned from the espresso machine. “What honeymoon?”
“Didn’t you hear, Phish? Tess got married. To the artist. The one whose wife died in March having their baby.”
Courtney’s smugness made Tess see red. “Is your life really so small that you don’t have anything better to do than gossip about mine?”
Courtney wasn’t daunted. “It’s amazing, Tess, how you can keep holdin’ your head up.”
“And without taking a single photo of myself doing it!” Tess stormed out.
* * *
Her husband and baby were both missing when she got back to the schoolhouse. Daffodils had poked through the weeds in the neglected front garden, and a robin carried a few blades of dried grass to the curve in the drainpipe where she was building a nest. Tess brushed off the bench and sat. Regardless of Courtney’s spite, the community’s suspicion, and her co-workers’ bitchiness, Tess felt at home on Runaway Mountain. She imagined Wren racing through the trees with a bandaged knee and dirty face. She saw Wren’s bedroom windowsill cluttered with rocks and dusty bird feathers. Wren coming out of the woods, riding on the shoulders of a father who could point out animal scat and—
She jerked herself upright. There would be no father.
As if she’d conjured him, Ian emerged from the trail. He should have looked ridiculous with Wren in the sling across his chest, but he wore it like a bandolier ammo belt. The baby was wide-awake and content as he approached Tess. “I had a helluva time keeping her from chomping on the poison ivy and petting the bears, but she’s a good hiker.”
If Tess didn’t know how much he’d hate it, she would have thrown her arms around him and told him he was the best man she’d ever known. Instead, she straightened Wren’s crooked cap. “I have bad news. I forgot your doughnuts.”
“That’s it! We need to have a serious conversation about gender roles. I’ll bring home the animal carcass. You’re supposed to bring home the doughnuts.”
“Noted.”
His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “It’s not like Phish to run low on doughnuts.”
She resumed fussing with Wren’s cap. “I might have forgotten them when I stormed out.”