start bringing some back.”
“You don’t need me for that. Just bring things in one at a time and see how she reacts. I’ll fill the rest of the staff in on what’s happening so they can pay extra close attention to make sure she’s comfortable with everything.”
“Thanks, Ashley. Even if Gran isn’t able to come to my wedding, I sure am grateful she has you.”
“I enjoy spending time with your family,” I tell her honestly. Although I worry I like being around the Frothinghams too much. When they no longer need me to escort Mrs. Frothingham, I’m going to miss them more than I should.
Out of nowhere, Emmie says, “I couldn’t wait to get out of this town when I was in high school.”
That totally surprises me, so I ask, “Why?”
“When my daddy died, people used to treat me and Mama like we’d suddenly become invisible. Down at the club, the ladies even told Mama they no longer needed her help chairing the committees she worked on.”
“Why in the world?” I ask.
“Because Daddy was the born-and-bred Frothingham. It was his family that founded our town, not Mama’s. Apparently, her only cachet was her wedding ring. That thinking trickled down to me.”
“Why did you ever come back?” I ask.
“I guess because I grew up.” Then, as if speaking right to my heart, she says, “People don’t always stay the same. They can change for the better over time.”
God, I hope that’s true. With Chad and Jessica back in town, and Davis suddenly a part of my life, I couldn’t bear to go back to being the girl I was when I was in high school. “I’ll leave you alone now. You let me know if you need anything.”
“Davis is right,” she says. “We’re lucky to have you.”
I beam like I’ve just won Publishers Clearing House and the Powerball on the same day. It’s nice to be appreciated, but even nicer when Davis Frothingham is the one doing the appreciating.
Chapter Fifteen
March 6, 2008
Dear Molly,
The most amazing thing happened today! Davis Frothingham called me on the phone to ask if I had our homework assignment for major British writers. I have no idea why he called me instead of one of his other friends, but I don’t care. He had to look up my number in the student directory, which I conservatively estimate means he spent a solid five minutes of his day with me on his mind.
I wish I’d had a reason to keep him on the phone longer than it took to tell him to read the next fifty pages of The Canterbury Tales. I longed to say, “You need to dump Jessica Holt and take me to prom!” But, of course, I didn’t. I’m going to sleep early tonight though, so I can hurry up and start dreaming about Davis. I just wanted you to hear the exciting news first.
As soon as I get home from work, I throw my uniform into the laundry basket and put on my favorite pair of yoga pants. They’ve probably been washed three hundred times, and as such, the elastic is so worn they nearly fall off of me, but they’re super soft. The added bonus is that I won’t have to worry about them getting tight when popcorn belly hits.
I wrap myself in my mom’s old afghan, which is an eyesore of avocado green and harvest gold with a shock of hot pink flowers just in case your corneas need a jolt. My great-grandma made it for my mom when she was a little girl in the seventies. If you don’t count the Scooby Doo juice glass collection, it’s the only real heirloom I have.
I decide to start my night of television indulgence with The Breakfast Club. While I don’t particularly relate to any of the characters, Molly Ringwald is in it, which makes it a favorite.
My mom was partial to this one because Molly got to play the rich girl who was too cool for everyone else. It was a nice change to see her packing sushi in a bento box for lunch instead of bologna in a paper bag. Mom’s thinking was that if Molly could do it, so could we. Another example of the failed logic to which she often subscribed.
Just as the Simple Minds song “Don’t You Forget About Me” starts to roll with the opening credits, my phone rings. I normally wouldn’t pick it up, but Davis’s name pops up on the screen.
“Hockloo,” I answer before properly swallowing