Chapter Seven
“So, you gonna tell me why you never answered any of my texts last night?”
Winnie helped Marcy secure their tent before setting up the tables. She pressed a finger to her chin in exaggerated contemplation before answering. “Nope.”
“I see.” Marcy nodded slowly, then started arranging her makeup cases at her station. “I’m keen to guess anyway. Might it have something to do with the fact you were out with Cory Levane last night?”
“That’s a good guess.” Winnie positioned the easel for the Two Chicks, Two Palettes sign near one corner of the tent so it wouldn’t block the path between the vendor booths. “I suppose I can’t deny I had dinner with Cory, since there were witnesses.”
“How many of these witnesses noticed Cory’s car pull up to your driveway at five in the morning, with you in it?”
Winnie shot her a curious glance. The farmers market opened for business at seven, with Marcy stopping by her place thirty minutes prior to carpool. How her cousin knew of the pre-dawn drop-off baffled her for a moment, and she assumed one of Marcy’s pals—out for an early morning jog—spotted them on the road and couldn’t wait until a reasonable hour of the day to gossip.
Knowing Marcy, the woman collected dirt twenty-four seven. Winnie might have gone straight to the farmers market from the Levanes’, if she hadn’t had to stop at home for her kits. His parents had gotten up well before the sun—the aroma of coffee and the sound of shuffling footsteps woke her around four-thirty—but she’d snuggled with Cory until they heard the front door slam.
“No comment,” she said finally. Marcy huffed, and she added, “Come on, let me keep some things to myself for a while before the St. Florence version of TMZ broadcasts it all over.”
Marcy set out her brushes in order of height. “It’s been a while for both of us, Win. I need some action, even if it’s vicarious.” She moved over to Winnie’s station, uncomfortably close. “Did you guys do it, or just sack out on the couch watching Netflix? Is he big down there? Johanna said—”
“What does Johanna know about anything?” Winnie snapped, and felt bad on seeing Marcy’s chastened expression. She added more softly, “Look, after we’re done here maybe we’ll go over to Lost Girls for a beer and talk. I don’t want any kids overhearing adult stuff.”
Encouraged, no doubt, by the thought of free drinks, Marcy smiled. “I’m holding you to that. Will Cory join us?”
“He wanted to go to the library today to see about scheduling an event.” This revelation snowballed into a discussion of the book’s progress, capped off by Marcy’s amazement at Winnie managing to get work done on it all the while holding down full-time freelancing and romancing the hunky athlete. “It’s called being organized. You ought to look into it,” Winnie told her just as she propped up the sample face-paint poster. Marcy tried to respond, but the crowd filtered into the vending space, and children started lining up.
Winnie spent the morning painting various Marvel masks on boys and girls, and a few Ghostbusters logos on cheeks. Fifteen minutes before lunch break came a familiar face—Trevor, Cory’s nephew.
No, a cousin. Second cousin, maybe. The mother—Deborah, she remembered—puffed for air when she caught up to him. “Trevor, baby, don’t do that to Mama,” she chided. “I’m not the one running for the touchdown.”
Winnie laughed along with her and guided the boy to one of the vacant chairs. “Hey there. Always nice to see a repeat customer. Are we doing another pirate makeover today?”
His head bowed but eyes peering at her, the boy shook his head and pointed to a photo on the board.
“Another Ghostbusters lover, eh? That is Marcy’s specialty, so why don’t we trade places and she’ll get to work.” She moved away to let her cousin take over the job, and reached for her bottled water. “Man, you wouldn’t think it was early fall for the sun out today,” she told Deborah.
“Tell me about it. His pirate face stayed on well last week, but I hope that makeup won’t melt off before the market’s over.”
“It’ll be fine. Never had a problem with runs before, but sometimes coming up with new designs is challenging.”
“Can you draw a sea cow?”
Winnie turned toward the voice, determined to wear a mask of her own. Aaron had come up behind them and paused near the tent, any hint of good manners gone given the cruel tinge of his smirk. It must have hurt to keep any taunts he might have wanted to say to himself while Cory and Erica had stood within earshot last week. Winnie couldn’t understand it—she and Aaron had rarely crossed paths in school, and this not-so-vague reference to the nickname she despised came out of nowhere.
“Yes,” she replied and folded her arms. “I draw a damn good sea cow. And blue whales and elephants and dinosaurs and every noble creature that’s walked or swum the planet.” Her gaze panned toward Marcy and Trevor, and she added, “Not to mention I draw some of more ignoble rodents well, too.”
Ouch. Burn. Deborah snorted and failed to suppress a smile. Marcy started to hum loudly, a trick for keeping silent when she really wanted to let loose a stream of curse words. Not in a child’s presence.
Aaron took a second to absorb the insult, and Winnie wondered if he even got it. He let out a short laugh and shook his head. “I understand you’ve been seeing quite a bit of Cory.”
The humming increased in volume. Winnie picked out the tune: The Battle Hymn of the Republic.
“What if I have?”
“Yeah,” Deborah snapped. “You his warden?”
“I’m his closest friend, and I want what’s best for him,” Aaron said.
Yeah, the two men had been tight in high school. If it had carried over into Cory’s college and NFL years Winnie couldn’t say, but she found Aaron’s protective nature a bit creepy. “Cory’s his own man. Unless he plans to work at your café, I can’t see what he does is any of your business.”
He grasped the corner pole of the tent, and it wobbled a bit. Marcy looked up for a moment as if it might collapse on them.
“Do you honestly think Cory’s gonna plant roots in this cow town? He’s a young, good-looking retired football star. He can write his own ticket,” he said.
“I thought he was writing a kids’ book,” Deborah said.
“He is!” piped up Trevor. “About pirates.”
Whatever more Aaron had to say, the boy shouldn’t be in earshot of it, especially if the language turned salty. Winnie pointed to a clearing and started walking. Marcy resumed her humming solo.
Closer to the fence bordering the parking lot, Winnie turned on Aaron and narrowed her eyes. “Aaron, I can see kids coming to queue up at my tent, and you obviously have a problem that I’ve gone out with Cory a few times.” Lord, she hoped he hadn’t found out about her pre-dawn drop-off. If yes, it wasn’t his concern. “I’d ask you to quickly say your piece, but I really don’t give a damn, so I’m going to walk away and forget the sea cow remark because I prefer to focus on the positive.”
She got two steps toward her tent when Aaron said, “If he leaves St. Florence again, don’t expect he’ll take you with him.”
Winnie stopped. Really, asshole? You’re doing this today? Seriously, was this because he assumed she upstaged his cornhole skills at the brewery with her sketching? Aaron obviously had a bug up his ass over her and Cory, and wanted to see her crestfallen. Like hell.
“Who said I wanted to leave home? I have a life here. Mind your own damn business.”
Aaron pulled out his phone and tapped away, not looking at her. “Winnie, you know Cory’s an A-lister. He can do better than a kids’ party host.”
Like Erica could have done better. Winnie chose not to say it, though. She refused to stoop to Aaron’s level. She moved another step away, and Aaron flashed a picture on his phone. A slender brunette in a sparkling low-cut gown smiled on a red carpet, presumably at a movie premiere or some other highbrow event. “This is Charmaine McKay. Cory’s last girlfriend. Last year’s Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue cover.”
Winnie barely glanced at her. The idea of Cory having dated other women in the past decade hardly bothered her, and they’d talked of some old relationships. In fact….
“Cory told me about Charmaine. It’s history. Whatever you’re trying to pull won’t work. Leave me alone,” she said.
“Even if they don’t get back together, this is the kind of woman he belongs with.” Aaron held up the phone. “He’s out of your league, Segal.”
Winnie refused to turn his away again. She flashed him the middle finger over her shoulder and kept it aloft until she reached her tent, tucking it away on seeing the children lined up behind Deborah. “Can you believe the nerve?” she griped. “Where does Aaron Oleson get off dictating who should date Cory?”
Marcy buzzed through another chorus of the battle hymn as she put the finishing touch on the ghost she painted on Trevor’s cheek. “Take a breather, maestro,” Winnie told her.
“Aaron’s always been a monkey’s ah, uh, butt,” Deborah corrected, gathering Trevor to her after he hopped off the chair. “Forget everything he told you. Cory hasn’t mentioned him once all week that I know of.”
Winnie beckoned the next child in line to her chair and grabbed a brush. The girl pointed to the Wonder Woman crown, and she set to work. “Easier said, but you’re right. He thought he could get under my skin showing me a picture of some supermodel he used to date.” Snerk. “Maybe he expected me to go running to the popcorn guy and dive headfirst into the kettle.”
“What model?” Marcy asked.
“Charmaine McKay?” Deborah let out a sputtering noise. “They weren’t a couple. They had the same agent and went to a few high-profile parties. Strictly PR.”
Marcy didn’t appear convinced any woman would see Cory platonically. “Where’s a phone? I wanna see what she looks like.”
“Don’t need one. She’s the spitting image of Patsy.”
Ah. Now it made sense. Patsy, Aaron’s sister, was in Marcy’s class. Cory never went out with her, but it wouldn’t surprise her if Aaron hoped to make his old buddy his new brother-in-law. If Cory let himself be seen in public with a dish like Charmaine, Patsy seemed like a decent substitute.
Deborah came forward and held up a ten. “I pay you, right? Y’all keep the change. It’s worth it when Trevor’s so happy with his ‘ink.’” She laughed.
Winnie nodded toward her table. “Just pin it under a paint bottle, thanks. We’re here all season.”
“Awesome.” Deborah took a breath. “So you know, I hear Cory’s really been happy the last few days. It’s because of you.”
It got even hotter with her embarrassment. She finished with Wonder Woman and released her customer. “Thanks.”
“And Aaron can stuff it. He hasn’t changed since school, back when he was telling Cory to stay away—”
Silence. Another girl walked forward but stilled. Winnie checked herself and figured her reaction must have caused everybody to stare. “What?” she asked.
Deborah glanced around them, as though looking for an escape route. “Shi—oot,” she said. Right, kid ears. “I was at the farmhouse helping out after school. Aaron came over, and Cory asked him if you were seeing anybody. Aaron came up with every excuse why Cory shouldn’t ask you out.”
“Cory was interested in me in high school?” Had Aaron had that much sway over his friend, to talk him out of a date? Winnie pondered the possibilities, the would haves and could haves. They might have seen a movie, had a nice summer together before he left for college. Fizzled out in the fall but filled with memories to treasure.
She might have gone to prom with him, instead of staying home watching Titanic with a bag of popcorn and a pint of cookie dough ice cream.
She might have gotten invited to Ben’s cool kids party as a result of some kind of association with Cory. Approval. Ordained datable by the big man on campus.
Now she couldn’t decide what was worse, being ignored in high school or being trotted out like a charity case. Why imagine that possibility? Deborah had said he liked her back then.
Not enough to tell Aaron to piss off, though. That disappointed her.
Deborah, clearly feeling she’d overstayed her welcome, muttered an awkward goodbye and hustled her son out of there. Winnie shook away her dark mood. She was burning daylight, and her new customer wanted to leave the tent looking like a Power Ranger. Halfway through the transformation, Cory texted her.
How abt lunch at Perk Me Up when ur done?
Yeah, right. Let’s go eat at the café run by the jerk who tried the sea cow trigger on her. She waited until finishing the Power Ranger mask before replying that she and Marcy had a beer flight waiting for them at Lost Girls.
No invitation to join them. No promise of hooking up later. No interest in anything but getting through the rest of her shift.
***
“Weird.”
Cory stared at the response in his messenger app, unable to decide the tone of Winnie’s refusal to meet up with him. She’d planned to take Marcy out for a beer but gave no suggestion that he should join them, or come by later, or even acknowledge her existence.
No talk soon, no take a rain check. Something was up, and now his paranoia had planted a quickly-blooming seed of doubt. Had he ticked her off in some way? She knew he was coming to the library this morning and therefore wouldn’t make the market. She seemed okay with it.
“Everything okay, Cory?”
He looked up from where he sat in the nearly-empty reference area and greeted Dean Oleson, head librarian and Aaron’s older brother. He’d been a few years ahead of them in school, and Cory rarely saw him during play dates at the Oleson house. He knew from Aaron that Dean had recently taken the position here after a short tenure at the University of Virginia Library. The career moved intrigued Cory—who would leave a high profile college for a place in a small town, especially somebody barely in his forties?
Whatever the reason, Cory suspected Dean knew what he was doing. At the moment, the man with a bit of chub to his cheeks and wire-rimmed glasses protecting his gray eyes sat down with a monthly planner.
“I’m good. Sorry for the interruption.” Cory held up his phone before stuffing it in his back pocket. “I thought I had somewhere to be after this, but my afternoon may have cleared up.”
Hopefully not his night.
“Well, this won’t take long.” Dean turned to a page marked with different colored inks in almost all of the date squares. “We’re thrilled you’d like to volunteer your time at a library event. I know the kids would love to hear about your experiences in the NFL. With school back in session, we get a fair amount of traffic, too.”
The statement seemed to contradict what his mother intimated last night, but Cory figured Dean wouldn’t paint a grim picture. He looked around while the librarian talked, trying to remember the last time he’d come here. Used to be, he only went to a library, school or otherwise, when a homework assignment necessitated it. Beyond that, he hadn’t read for leisure during his school years, or since.
Winnie, though, kept books all over her place. Shelves lined her living room, and he’d found a stack by her couch. She must have devoured them like reaching into a bag for potato chips. Yeah, his mother suggested making the trip here, but Winnie’d had a hand in inspiring his desire to get involved in literacy issues. He wasn’t an avid reader, but a football pro had to be literate to win games.
“We have events scheduled for Halloween, and just before Thanksgiving there’s a regional sci-fi group holding a mini convention in the meeting rooms.” Dean flipped back and forth between the October and November pages. “Every Tuesday, the knitting and crochet club meets, and we have family movie nights on Fridays.”
When did things with books happen? Cory tried to decipher the tiny upside-down letters and saw all sorts of groups blocked time at the library for various things: farming tutorials, sign language class, employment workshops. Damn. All this time he’d thought this was merely the place where his mother borrowed Danielle Steel books.
Dean seemed to read his expression and smiled. “The library is becoming a bona fide hub, more like a community center. You’d think a town as small as St. Florence wouldn’t see much activity in a place like this, what with the Internet, but people rely on us for so many things.” The list Dean then rattled off amazed Cory. Genealogy resources, tax assistance, college prep. He felt bad for not utilizing the place much in his youth.
“My mom gave me the impression this place wasn’t very active, I’m sorry to say.”
“We have lulls, yes. Who doesn’t?” Dean acknowledged. “I do see your mom here often, and I suspect she’s more concerned that people aren’t checking out books by the truckload.”
That sounded like his mother.
“You know,” he said, “I am thinking of coming home to stay. If you have any volunteer opportunities, count me in. I’ll be helping out at the farm otherwise. This would be a nice change of pace.” He’d use the time spent in this environment to encourage a desire to read.
“And we do love our volunteers,” Dean said. “We’d be lost without them, especially since it looks like our budget may be cut next year.” He twisted his lip, and Cory waited for the pitch. Maybe Dean liked to talk, but Cory thought it odd how easily he gabbed on about the library’s financial issues. Of course, this could all be public knowledge, but he didn’t blame Dean for dropping hints to somebody with money and perceived influence.
“I’d be happy to make a donation, if that’s possible,” he said.
“Oh.” Dean’s face suddenly took on a red shade, as though embarrassed to have been caught fishing for cash. “Of course every bit helps, and we do hold fundraisers a few times a year to cover what we don’t get from the general town budget. We have a silent auction, so if you have any signed memorabilia to donate—”
“That is never a problem. Footballs, jerseys…whatever you want. And I can get autographs from some of my old teammates, make it real special and worth people’s money.”
“I will definitely be in touch when we need them.” Dean laughed, almost with relief. “Our next big project involves renovating one of the meeting rooms to make a dedicated space for teen readers. Right now they’re sharing a section with juvenile lit, and it gets noisy sometimes. The older kids need room to relax and hang with each other after school.
“It’s only a matter of moving the teen and young adult shelves there, but we want to decorate,” he continued. “Really give the kids a place that speaks to them. First order of business is a mural to give the room some color.”
“Yeah?” Cory stroked his chin. “I’d have to talk to her about it, but I know a local artist who might could be persuaded to help out there.”
“You’re talking about Winnie Segal?” Cory nodded, so did Dean. “I’m meeting with her next week to discuss the possibilities. We love her work.” He leaned to one side to look past Cory and grinned. “I’m not the only one. Come here, rascal.”
Cory turned his head to see a flash of red shirt blow past him. Little Presley ran forward to give his uncle a hug, grinning and giggling all the while. “Speaking of, I see a certain artist’s handiwork.” Dean’s finger hovered near the Ghostbusters design on Presley’s cheek. “Did Miss Winnie paint that?”
“Marcy, actually.” Aaron spoke from behind Cory, and the two men shook hands. “Getting your library card renewed?”
“I should, thanks.”
Cory and Dean stood together, the librarian folding his planner shut. “Pres, you’re just in time for story hour. I’m headed that way to get things started. Cory, we’ll talk soon?” They nodded their goodbyes and Dean disappeared with his nephew toward the kids’ section.
“You saw Winnie today? How’s she doing?”
Aaron shrugged, and his expression turned. Cory sensed a warning bell pinging in his head. His friend’s mouth curled like he was about to impart bad news. Finally, the man said, “Okay, I guess. Moody. Not an attitude to have while working around kids.”
Damn. Maybe he had said or done something to make her mad. “She say why?”
“She didn’t have to. Girl has zero sense of humor, or reality for that matter.” Aaron reached for a book on a nearby shelf and studied the cover before replacing it. “Got all touchy just ’cause I mentioned how you used to date Charmaine—”
“Okay, stop.” Cory had a feeling Aaron told Winnie much more, hinted at things that weren’t true, and it rattled her enough to transfer her irritation to him. He hadn’t intended to work on repairs today, but thanks to Aaron his personal life required fixing. “Why bring up Charmaine to Winnie? I haven’t seen her in some time, and we weren’t dating. We went out in public a few times is all.”
Aaron huffed out a laugh, sounding like disbelief. “Yeah, I couldn’t be just friends with a hottie like that.”
Wonder what Erica thinks of you saying so. One ticked off woman at a time, though. “You know, I won’t even ask what went down at the farmers market, because I’m guessing you meddled where you shouldn’t have. No, no way,” he added when it appeared Aaron wanted to defend himself. “You talked me out of asking Winnie out while we were in school and I regretted it. If I talk to her and Marcy and find out you’re messing with her head…”
He looked around. Heads had raised from books and computer monitors. This wasn’t the kind of community interest Dean wanted for the library. He waved a dismissive hand at Aaron. “Stay out of my personal life. Keep this up, and you’ll stay out altogether.”
“Cory, come on, man. I’ve always had your back. You’re out of the game now, but you’re not down for the count.” Aaron followed him through the sliding front doors and into the parking lot. All the way to Cory’s car, he explained his situation, how if he intended to launch a career in sports commentary or acting he’d need a comparable, successful partner.
“Aaron, I should get to choose who I want to date, and marry, if that’s what I want.”
“Then go big. Not Winnie big—” He skidded short when Cory snapped around and scowled. “I mean, if not somebody like Charmaine, then a woman with similar interests to yours, a great career, beauty.”
For the love of…. Cory sighed. Winnie had all that and more. Why the hell had he kept Aaron as a friend, then and now? If slim equated success and beauty in Aaron’s mind, he held a narrow view of the world.
“Patsy’s graduating near the top of her class in law school,” Aaron said. “Lot of firms in DC interested in her.”
“As well they should be. Patsy’s a good egg.” He didn’t love Patsy, not romantically, and he had to wonder if she was aware of this proxy courtship. For all they knew, she had her eye on a good-looking Ph.D. candidate. How Aaron stood to benefit from Cory hooking up with his sister, or any woman other than Winnie, he couldn’t say. The man’s behavior upset him.
More than that, he hated himself for not seeing it so clearly before.
He unlocked his car and opened the door. Aaron gave him a contrite look but no apology. Cory doubted he’d receive one. “I don’t want to hear another word about Winnie from you,” he said. “No jokes about her weight, her looks, not one fuckin’ word. She’s incredible and manages her own business, which she built on her own.”
Aaron cocked an eyebrow. “That some kind of crack about me taking over the café? Like, I can’t start a business on my own so I have to inherit one?”
“Never entered my mind. I don’t question your ability to be a good boss, or an entrepreneur. You shouldn’t question Winnie’s skills, either, just because she doesn’t fit into your idea of perfection. Would you be any less proud of Patsy if she had a few more pounds?”
“No. She’s my sister.”
The question bothered Aaron. Cory saw the frustration on his friend’s face. Winnie wasn’t a relative, perhaps not a friend to him, either. He’d ask what the deal was, but wondered if he’d get a straight answer that didn’t put the blame on her.
“I’m going to see Winnie. I want to spend time with her. Later, Aaron.”
He pulled out of the lot and roared down the highway toward St. Florence. The farmers market stayed open for another hour. He hoped whatever Aaron had said to Winnie today didn’t upset her so much that she decided to shut down early. Cory doubted it. Winnie was tough, and professional. She probably dealt with a fair share of nagging parents and screaming children, though a crying child couldn’t compare to some asshole needling her about her boyfriend’s past love life.
Yeah, boyfriend. He considered himself that.
Like he had much of a love life in the past, either. His family knew Charmaine was a largely platonic relationship, but Aaron probably said different.
“Damn it,” he muttered and pounded on the steering wheel. Right when things seemed to go his way some “well-meaning” person had to pull this shit. Here he was, driving into the unknown. He hoped Winnie came out of this angrier at Aaron than him. At least she hadn’t told him to screw off when he texted her earlier.
Would she talk to him when they came face to face again?