Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Emma parked in the same spot she’d parked earlier for church. The traffic wasn’t nearly as bad as now. Several shops were open. The Tropical Candies Sweet Shop was her first stop. The scent of sugar filled the air. A couple of teenagers were ordering ice cream, and an older man scooped jellybeans into a clear bag before weighing them on a scale. Behind a counter were several types of fudge. She’d never had a weight issue; she would order a half-pound of peanut butter fudge, along with the peppermint bark, and eat every bit herself without any guilt.

“What can I get for you?” the young girl behind the counter asked after the elderly man paid for his jellybeans.

Emma gave the girl her order.

“Please give me a couple of minutes,” she said. “I just got here. Mom went home early with a migraine.” The girl was rail thin with brown eyes and a blond braid reaching down to her waist. Emma thought she looked unhappy.

“I’m sorry. That’s not a fun way to spend the day.” Emma didn’t know what else to say. Folks were so friendly here, telling her bits and pieces of their personal lives. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to that. “Mum’s the word” was the rule in her old world. She was a great keeper of secrets—not that she had any herself. As an attorney, she’d lived with stories that her clients told her in confidence. Many had no relation to their cases, but Emma was a good listener, and her clients knew she could be trusted.

“Here you go, ma’am,” said the young girl.

Emma returned her attention to the register. She handed the girl her debit card.

“If your purchase is less than fifty dollars, we charge fifty cents for using your card.”

“Sure, that’s fine.” Many businesses were doing that now to cover their banking fees.

“Most of the time I don’t have to tell that to customers. They spend way over that amount. It’s kind of embarrassing,” the girl said, returning the card.

Emma tucked her card inside her wallet, then took the bag of fudge and peppermint bark. “It’s okay, really. You do what you have to do to stay in business.”

“Yeah, well, I guess. I just hate asking people for extra money.” The girl really did look distraught.

“I understand, but that’s part of being a business owner. You have to make a profit,” Emma explained. “I used to be . . .” She trailed off, uncertain if she should tell this girl anything personal. She decided to go ahead. Maybe it would help the teen in some strange way. “I used to be an attorney. Actually, I’m still one. I just quit practicing. In my office, we had to bill our clients for almost everything, even a five-minute telephone call. I didn’t like that part, but it’s just how the world works. There are little things you can do. Many times I would call clients from home, never charging them. Take them to lunch, my treat.”

“My mom would croak if I gave anything away for free.”

“Can I ask your name?” Emma queried. She felt the girl needed to talk and knowing her name made the conversation seem more personal.

“Amanda. I’m sorry. I should have my name tag on, but I forgot it again.”

“I like that name. I’m Emma. So, you and your mom run the store on your own?”

“Yeah. My dad passed away last year. A boating accident. It’s been hard for Mom and me to handle the shop. She always worries about money. When Dad was alive they had help on the weekends. She didn’t care about money then.”

Emma didn’t know any adult who didn’t care about money in some sense. You had to have it to survive. The choice to survive in luxury or squalor depended on the individual.

“I’m sorry. I lost both of my parents a few years ago, too.”

“Did you have to work when they died?” Amanda asked.

“I did, but I was much older than you.” She wouldn’t tell her she’d been left a small fortune. That was tucked away for the future.

“I’m fifteen,” Amanda offered.

Emma had thought she was much younger. Maybe she hadn’t had much of a chance to mature, given her family circumstances. “So you’re in high school?”

“Ninth grade.”

Emma knew where this conversation was going and, for a moment, she felt ashamed of herself. But she convinced herself that her question was for the greater good.

“Is your teacher Mr. . . .” She could not recall his last name.

“Mr. Kendrick?”

“Yes, the math teacher.”

“He’s the only male teacher. Yeah, I have him for third period. He’s the coolest teacher I’ve ever had. He brings his dog to class sometimes.”

“I heard he’s expecting some puppies,” Emma said. “Or rather his dog is.”

“I know. Penny hooked up with Henry, his mom’s wiener dog. The entire town wants one of his pups, but I don’t think he’ll give them up.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He’s just that way. Super sweet. He tells us stories about Penny. You can tell if a person is decent according to a dog’s reaction.”

Emma had heard this, too. Never having had a pet of her own, she thought it was time for her to consider getting one. Maybe she could adopt a rescue animal. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough.” She could’ve told Amanda she knew the pups had arrived, but it wasn’t her news to share. The more she learned about her neighbor, the more she liked him. She also considered that all she’d heard about him could be too good to be true.

“I hope so,” Amanda said. “He isn’t married, just so you know.”

“I see,” Emma said, wondering why the conversation had shifted to this topic.

“You aren’t married, right?” Amanda asked.

Emma had to laugh. “No, I’m not.”

“So why don’t you hook up with Mr. Kendrick?” Amanda asked.

Emma was used to answering questions on the fly, but no one had ever questioned her marital status besides Harris and that librarian. Words failed her for a second, and then she spoke. “For starters, I don’t know him; he doesn’t know me. I don’t date guys I don’t know.” She gave Amanda an awkward smile. “Women have to be very careful.” She was sure that Nash wasn’t a danger to women, but she didn’t want to give the impression that knowing someone necessarily gave them a free pass. She hoped Amanda understood the point she was trying to make.

“I think you guys would look cool together. You’re both tall. You’re pretty.” Amanda paused. “Mr. Kendrick is . . .” She laughed, then turned her face to the side.

“He’s a nice-looking man,” Emma offered so Amanda wouldn’t be embarrassed. She remembered when she was fifteen. It had been an awkward age for her too, as she’d just begun her senior year in high school.

Emma was saved when a lady with three small children made a noisy entrance. “I’ll see you soon,” she said before leaving.

Amanda waved, then turned her attention to her new customers.

Emma was no longer in the mood to shop, so she headed home, along with her bag of fudge, with much to think about.

Once she was back home, with nothing left to do, she finished her ruined library book. Despite what she’d said that morning, she would return the book and those new copies Marlena had purchased. Never one to shuck off responsibilities, she hoped this simple act would remove her from the “book offenders” list. Small-town life—it was what she wanted. Emma had received her first full serving. She couldn’t wait to see what tomorrow would bring.