Chapter Twenty-Two

“Oooh. I love this one.” Avery pointed at the picture on Delanie’s tablet of me leaning against the faded blue door looking sultry—or was that bored? I couldn’t tell.

I had so many pictures taken of me yesterday that my cheek muscles still hurt. Not that I was smiling in all of them, but Delanie’s friend, Roger, spent two hours shooting photo after photo of me in all sorts of poses and different locations around downtown Clearfield.

We had all come early for Sunday dinner so Delanie could show us the proofs of the photo shoot. It was decision time. I was all for not choosing. Though I was enjoying the autumn breeze on my parents’ front porch. We were hiding outside so Ma and Mimsy didn’t feel the need to get involved. And I didn’t need another story about the soap opera taking place at the retirement community. I still couldn’t shake the Depends around the ankle image in my mind. And the ice boat wasn’t going anywhere, so Ma was still upset with Dad.

“Maybe I could be like Autumn Moone and my photo could be of a football field’s sideline. That’s clever.” At least, I thought it was.

Delanie, who was between us on the porch swing, shook her head. “You already used your real name and you’re writing about real life, so they need the real you. Autumn Moone only gets away with it because she started out unknown and her publisher made it part of their marketing plan.”

“How do you know?” Avery asked.

Delanie pulled up the next batch of photos. “I think I read it somewhere on a marketing blog.”

“Huh. Well, it works for her.” Avery was already eagerly scanning the new batch of photos.

This set was taken in front of a brick wall. In some I was leaning back, others had only one shoulder touching. In a few I was smiling, or was that smirking? There were serious, studious poses mixed in with playful candid shots of me rolling my eyes at the ridiculousness of it all or throwing my hands up. My favorite was the three of us laughing together. I think I had just tripped up some steps and Delanie and Avery had caught me.

“Let’s use that one,” I suggested, pointing at the photo of the three of us. It represented more of who I really was, and I hated being the only subject.

Avery and Delanie nixed that idea.

“By the way,” Delanie said as she enlarged a photo she liked that had an artistic flair. I was standing in front of an old sign that read, Crossroads. How fitting. “I loved the new post. I hope those women read it and choke on their self-righteousness.”

Avery agreed. “I feel terrible we left you alone after the game.”

“Please don’t. You guys have lives. I don’t need to be babysat.”

And someone was there to comfort me, though I didn’t mention him or that fact he called me yesterday to ask if I would like to have a real dinner with him sometime this week. I said I would think about it, but probably not. He only laughed, not deterred at all.

“Besides,” I continued. “What upset me most was Cody. He’s hurting and he won’t talk about it. And all Neil can do is blame the divorce on me.”

He’d had the audacity to call me back and inform me our family’s situation was all my fault and I was turning Cody against him. We had some choice words before I hung up on him. I was glad the call had come after the photo shoot, or I would have looked like a splotchy, red, puffy-eyed mess.

Avery swore in French. I smiled at her. “Someday, you will have to tell me what those words mean and how to say them right.”

“I’m happy to teach you some Spanish vulgarity too,” Delanie offered. She’d volunteered in the inner-city schools in Phoenix where they had a high population of children from Mexico. It was where she met my brother.

“Perfect, the more the better.”

We focused back on the pictures.

“Does my hair look too big? Do you think your friend could make me look twenty and svelte?”

“You look fantastic.” Delanie nudged me.

I stared at my unruly curls, done movie-star style thanks to Avery. The denim shirt brought out the blue in my gray eyes.

While we hemmed and hawed over which picture to use, Reed pulled up. I knew he was coming, and I had been reminding myself not to act any different around him. I’d told him he better do the same.

He didn’t listen. He came sauntering up with five bouquets of flowers. It looked like a multi-colored rosebush had exploded on him.

I ignored him, but my sisters-in-law didn’t.

“Reed,” Avery’s voice was so cheery, “you’re going to make Mom happy.” Avery had always called Ma, Mom. Delanie, I think, tried not to call Ma anything, except for names in her head.

Reed approached while I tried to keep as focused as I could on the screen. I still caught his smirk from the corner of my eye.

“I realized how rude I’d been, only bringing one Decker woman flowers.”

“Aren’t you the sweetest thing.” Avery jumped up to survey the roses. “James never brings me flowers unless it’s my birthday or our anniversary.”

Reed carefully handed her the lavender bouquet out of the mix. That was so sweet. I had mentioned something to him about my niece Hannah and how her favorite color was any shade of purple.

“These are gorgeous, thank you.” Avery inhaled their scent.

“Delanie?” Reed held out three of the four remaining bouquets; he was holding back the peach bouquet with baby’s breath. They were gorgeous. I figured he got them for Ma.

Delanie eyed him suspiciously. She was a smart one. Was she on to him?

“Yellow works for me.” She went right back to work, laying the roses next to her where Avery had been sitting. Reed had failed to impress her. Probably because Peter was always bringing home thoughtful gifts, whether it was flowers or her favorite candy, sour cherry jelly beans. Once he even had me help pick out the perfect colored pencils to go with the adult coloring book he had purchased her.

Reed didn’t seem fazed by Delanie’s lack of enthusiasm. His sights landed on me instead. “How are you, Sam?”

I gave him my full attention, since ignoring him would have only drawn the kind of attention I was hoping to avoid. Like the kind he was bringing.

With a grin wider than Texas, he handed me the beautiful deluxe bouquet of peach roses. “I thought you would like these.”

I wanted to shake my head at him or kick his exposed shin.

“Peach roses are your favorite,” Avery commented.

“How did you know that?” Delanie interrogated him.

Reed didn’t miss a beat. “She mentioned it last week when I gave Mrs. D some.”

Those hadn’t been as nice as the ones he was handing me.

“Thank you.” I swiped them and turned back to the screen. He needed to go.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t in a hurry. “What are you ladies doing out here?”

Avery’s eyes lit up. “We’re helping Sam choose a photo for her blog and social media sites. Maybe you can help. It would be good to get a male perspective.

That was a terrible idea. “We can just ask Peter or James later. I’m sure Reed wants to go in and hang out with the guys.”

“I’m happy to help.” The mischievous boyhood glint was back in his eyes. He walked behind us and looked over my shoulder, though he would have gotten a better view closer to Delanie. His cologne wafted in the autumn breeze, making me catch my breath.

Avery took her seat and laid both her and Delanie’s flowers on her lap. “I love this one best, I think.” Avery pointed again to the one of me in front of the blue door.

Delanie’s vote was for the crossroads sign one.

I had no vote, except to be done.

Reed studied each picture carefully, asking Delanie to go back and forth a few times. “Wait. Go back to the one of her on the steps in front of the old church.”

Delanie enlarged the picture in front of the old church house on Main Street. I was leaning forward with my arms resting on my legs, hands clasped together. I wore a hint of a smile.

“That’s it,” Delanie said. “It speaks to your vulnerability and strength. It’s perfect.”

“Yes,” Avery agreed.

Both women turned back toward Reed. “Good eye,” they echoed each other.

No one asked my opinion. But if I had to choose one, I guess it would work. I stared at the woman in the photo. She looked more confident than I felt.

Delanie stood up with her tablet. “I’m going to call Roger and let him know which one to touch up.”

“Lots of touch-up,” I called after her.

“I better go get these in water.” Avery started toward the door with both bouquets.

I stood up. “I better do the same.”

Reed met me around the porch swing. “Sam, do you think I could talk to you for a minute about the pancake breakfast the team is doing on Saturday?”

Avery didn’t seem to find that out of the ordinary and left me there with him. I hadn’t even volunteered to help with that particular fundraiser. And after the way I had been treated on Friday night, I wasn’t sure I was going to go. My contribution for the season would be to sell tickets at the school and donate money.

But it was good Avery left; with only the two of us, I was able to let loose on him.

“What are you thinking, bringing everyone flowers?”

“I knew you had been a little down, so I thought flowers might cheer you up. But I didn’t think you would appreciate it if I singled you out.”

“You shouldn’t be giving me flowers at all.”

“I disagree. By the way, you looked gorgeous in those pictures. Do you think I could get a copy of a few?”

I wasn’t sure if he was teasing or not. I sighed.

He smirked.

“We better go in.”

“Not yet. I didn’t ask you about the pancake breakfast. You don’t want to make me a liar, do you?”

My look said he was pressing his luck.

He pressed it further by getting as close as he could, with only flowers between us. I was starting to see the man in him. He wore stubble well. And his eyes? Beautiful.

I took a small step back, not sure how to feel. Or perhaps I didn’t want to feel at all.

His grin said he knew he was getting to me.

“Ask your question,” I said, a little breathless.

“The restaurant wants to know if we want to use real butter or margarine. What do you think?”

“I think you need better excuses.”

“Hey, that was good for on the fly.”

“If you say so. Tell the restaurant you want the real deal. Butter.”

He inched forward. “How do I get the real deal with you?”

That was a question I didn’t have an answer for.