Friday

The following morning, I was up with the sun. I could hear Gladys starting breakfast in the kitchen of the inn, but no other guests seemed to be up yet. I slipped out into the morning chill, glad I dressed in layers. I pulled my flannel button down over my t-shirt. I also wore a pair of comfortable, well worn jeans, and my hiking boots. 

I set off on foot, and when I came to the curve in the road, I moved down into the ditch to avoid any unfortunate run-ins with reckless drivers. Fortunately, I did not see any cars on my trip up, reckless or otherwise. I got up to the meadow just as the sun was peeking over the eastern ridge, golden light spilling into the meadow. I didn’t think it was possible, but as dew glittered on the leaves and petals like diamonds in a sea of precious gems, I felt myself getting choked up again. It was even more beautiful that morning than the day before. I took pictures for over an hour, hiking from one end of the meadow to the other, careful to stay on the marked trail. I started to get hungry, so I dug in my bag and pulled out a granola bar. As I munched on it, I looked around. 

There were a few overlooks at the far end of the meadow; weathered wooden platforms that looked down over the meadow. If I could get up there, I could get a wide shot of the meadow and probably get some of the town in the shot. I’d have to ask around about that. By the time the sun was high in the sky, more people were headed up the trail. It looked like some of the festival’s early birds had arrived in town. I headed back down the trail toward town. I could see a county sheriff parked a little way up the road, with a big “SLOW PEDESTRIAN XING” sign next to his cruiser.

I passed by the garage and saw Virgil out front, checking something under the hood of a car with out of state plates. I waved as I went by, and he lifted his hand to the brim of his hat. I smiled at that.

“Yoohoo!” Someone called. 

Because of course they did, I thought to myself, looking around. Who says ‘yoohoo’ in this day and age?

“You! You’re that reporter, ain’t you?” I turned to see an older woman untangling some string lights in front of the general store. I walked over to her.

“Yeah, I am. Word gets around fast.” I extended my hand. “Ella James.”

“Like lightning,” she agreed. “Fiona Chance, I run the general store here.” She nodded over her shoulder. I would have put her in her early 70s, with short hair and a thin frame. “You writing about the wildflowers, or about the developer that wants to flatten ‘em?”

“The wildflowers,” I said. “And taking some pictures,” I gestured to my camera. “I work for The Globe.”

“Outta Boston?” She looked confused.

“No,” I laughed. “It’s a travel blog.” She looked at me blankly. “On the internet?” I qualified.

“Oh honey, I’m a lot older than I look. I’ll be ninety-two next October, I don’t know a thing about that interd-net.” She surprised me with her age.

“Well, it’s the number one travel… thing of its kind,” I finished. She nodded. I absently took a cluster of string lights from her pile and started to untangle them with her. “When do things get really busy?” I asked.

“Saturdays are always the biggest draw, and the first Saturday is always the biggest Saturday,” she explained. “But the whole rest of the month will be an uptick from the usual. We have plenty to do in the summer and fall, even in the winter, but no one cares about that stuff. There’s hiking trails all over, but people just wanna see the flowers.” She shrugged. “Make hay while the sun shines.” 

I nodded while I untangled.

“I want to tell the best possible story I can, what should I check out while I’m here?”

“The Social will have food trucks from all over, some booths will sell some local products like honey, pressed wildflowers, and so on… There will be entertainment, games and such,” she said. “We got lots of hiking trails, too. Not just the wildflower one, you know,” she repeated. I nodded.

Another woman joined us. She had dark skin, a kind face, and wide dark eyes. 

“Excuse me,” she said to me apologetically. “Ms. Fiona,” she said, turning to face the older woman. “Archie is saying he might be late tomorrow.”

“Well don’t that beat all,” Ms. Fiona muttered. “After we moved everything around to accommodate them once already. We’ll just schedule the music to start at 7 instead of 6. The auction will have to drag on a bit. Oh, Deb, this is Ella James. Ella’s writing about the town for her travel blob.” Ms. Fiona gestured to me. “She’s gonna put LaCera on the blob.”

“Blog,” I corrected as I shook Deb’s hand.

“You must be the one Virgil took up the meadow last night,” Deb said. She looked back at Ms. Fiona. “Aubrey said she’s never heard Virgil say so much at one time.” She turned to me again. “He seemed quite taken with you, she said.”

“Uh,” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

“Forgive Deb, it’s a small town, there isn’t much to do here but gossip. Deb, don’t scare our new friend away.”

“Sorry, I’m just curious. Virgil generally keeps to himself.”

“He did take me up there. My car broke down,” I pointed to my Bug, parked in front of Virgil’s garage. “And he was worried about me walking around the curve in the dark.”

“He’s a nice young man,” Ms. Fiona said. 

“He seems so,” I said.

“But Deb is right, he usually keeps to himself.”

“I gathered he’s not a man of many words.”

“No, he’s not. I can barely get a yes ma’am, no ma’am out of him most of the time,” Deb said. “He must like you.”

“Deb,” Ms. Fiona said warningly, giving Deb a look. It seemed as though Ms. Fiona was the Queen Bee in town. Queen Fi. I chortled to myself.

I was curious about the town, so I deposited my camera inside the general store for safekeeping, and asked Queen Fi to put me to work. She tasked me with setting up some booths for the carnival, artfully stacking beeswax soap and jars of wildflower honey. Once that was completed, she put me to work unfolding chairs and tables to augment the picnic tables that were already in the little clearing next to Virgil’s garage. Finally, she sent me off to hang some bunting along the front of the buildings along Main Street. I was up on a rickety ladder, reaching across the front of the general store when I suddenly lost my balance. I felt a strong pair of arms take a hold of me and steady me back on the ladder.

“Careful now,” a low voice uttered, and I could smell the scent of old leather and cologne again. Virgil held out his arm to me and I stepped down off the ladder, feeling a little shaky at the realization of what almost happened. I was lucky he caught me. I probably would have wound up with a dislocated shoulder, or worse, if I had fallen on the steps leading into the store.

“Thanks,” I said, taking a deep breath. 

“Of course,” he said. He actually hooked his thumb into his belt loop as he stood there. “Ms. Fiona put you to work?” He nodded at the ladder.

“I volunteered, but I think she enjoys having another person to tell what to do,” I said with a rueful smile. “Probably no hazard pay, though.”

He nodded, and I saw a smile playing around his lips. I thought I could see a glimmer of another man inside of him. I wondered what happened to make him so closed off. I started to ask him how his day was going, but before I could, he raised his hand to the brim of his hat again.

“Be careful on that ladder,” he repeated cautiously and then he nodded farewell before he went inside the bank. I moved the ladder over so I wouldn’t have to reach to finish hanging the bunting. Once I had finished, I reported back to Ms. Fiona.

“I think Deb was right,” Ms. Fiona said to me conspiratorially. “I think Virgil is taken with you. I didn’t want her to scare you off earlier, because he’s had some bad luck… he’s a nice boy, and seeing you two together, I think he does like you. Are you single, honey?”

“I am,” I said after a moment. “But I’m not-”

“He’s a nice boy,” Ms. Fiona repeated as if I hadn’t spoken. “It’s a shame that ex wife of his was so vicious, but he’s a good kind boy.” It was funny to think of anyone referring to a man that was clearly well into his forties as a boy but Ms. Fiona was pushing ninety-two herself, despite the energy and speed at which she moved, so I supposed we were all kids to her. “He’s got a nice house up in the woods, he does well for himself. People come from all over to have him work on stuff, not just cars. He can fix just about anything.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say. I could see what she was doing, and while I certainly didn’t come to town for any romantic entanglements, I didn’t want to offend anyone. I kept my reactions as neutral as possible. I spent the rest of the afternoon on random tasks, and close to dusk, I collected my camera and headed back to the inn. I dropped the camera off in my room, washed my hands, and put on a sweatshirt over my t-shirt and flannel before I went back towards the diner to get something for dinner. The evenings were still pretty cool.

I sat at the now empty counter and ordered another chicken salad sandwich and tea. I asked Aubrey if it was alright if I took the food out to the picnic tables in front of the diner.

“Yeah, but you’d better bring those dishes back,” she warned. I promised that I would, and I headed out the door with them. Virgil was just coming up to the diner as I exited and I realized he probably came here every night for dinner. That made me a little sad for him.

He came out carrying a grease spotted bag and as he walked by, I asked him if he wanted to join me. He dithered for a second, and then sat opposite me at the table.

We ate in silence, but I didn’t mind. I studied him again. He was definitely handsome, even with the scruff, I realized. It caused a heat to rise in my cheeks, which multiplied when he called me out for staring at him.

“Do I have something on my face?” He asked quietly.

“No,” I said, embarrassed. “I was just wondering about you.”

“How so?”

“It would seem you have a reputation,”

“What kind of reputation?”

“For being the town grump. It makes me curious about you.”

“The whole point of acting like a grump is so most people won’t be curious,” he said. 

“Exactly, but I’m not most people… so what are you hiding?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t say I’m hiding anything. I’m just not terribly interesting,” he said with a shrug.

“I think you are… but how about we start small. How old are you?” I asked.

“Forty-seven,” He replied. “You?”

“Thirty-eight”

“You look younger,” he commented. I felt a slight heat rise in my cheeks.

“You might, too, if you ever smiled,” I chided. He rolled his eyes slightly. “Where did you live before you came to LaCera?”

“You’re nosey.” He had me there.
“I’m a reporter. It’s my job to be nosey,” I joked. 

He didn’t quite smile, but I could see another ghost of one under his scraggly mustache. Even that faint hint of one changed his face. It turned him into someone you wanted to know.

“Fair enough,” he said after a moment. “I’m from Blue Falls, I moved here with my ex-wife about 25 years ago and when she left, I stayed.” He gave a shrug.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” he said with a shrug. “Where are you from?”

“Rose Hollow originally, but now I’m in New Oxford,” I replied. He nodded. A silence fell between us but it was neither uncomfortable nor unpleasant. I wondered what he was thinking.

“Can I walk you back to the inn?” He asked as I finished the last bit of my tea. 

“I promised I’d take these dishes back to Aubrey,” I said. “If you don’t mind waiting, then sure.” 

The inn wasn’t far, but I liked his company. I thought back to what Ms. Fiona had said about him, but I shook my head. No, we were just being friendly, I decided. I took the dishes in, and said good night to Joe and Aubrey. Virgil was waiting for me when I came out.

“If you’re up for it, would you like to take a little walk with me?” He asked.

“Where to?” It was nearly dark.

“Just a little spot I like, it’s not far.”

“Sure.” 

He led me south to a small trail not far from the diner. It was so overgrown you had to be looking for it to see it at first. Belatedly, I thought that it was probably a bad idea to go off somewhere like this with a man I didn’t know, but there was something about Virgil that was comforting and safe feeling. I couldn’t put it into words. Eventually the trail opened up to a clearing along the bank of a stream. There were large flat rocks that would be good to sit on along the edge, and overhead, you could see stars starting to come out in the twilight sky. I had never seen such a clear, beautiful sky with so many stars out, even though it wasn’t even fully dark yet. There was too much light pollution in New Oxford to see anything like this.

“Wow,” I breathed. He was standing close to me, and I could faintly smell the scent of old leather mingled with his cologne again. He stood slightly behind me and gently pointed up to the sky.

“There’s Venus,” he said softly. “And over there is Sirius. Betleguese.” He pointed each one out, waiting for my eyes to follow along with his arm.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. I turned back towards him. I could barely see him in the moonlight, but his eyes glittered in the darkness, reflecting the sky back at me.

“Beautiful,” he repeated, but he wasn’t looking at the stars. He cleared his throat and took a step back. “Anyway, I like to come here sometimes. Thought you might like to see it.”

“I do like it, very much. Thank you for showing me.”

We stood there for a while longer, looking up at the stars. I felt so small and insignificant looking up at the millions of little flecks of light. After a moment I impulsively reached out and took his hand. He looked down surprised, but didn’t flinch or pull away. His fingers, calloused and a little rough, laced through mine. I don’t know why I did it, but I liked the feeling of my hand in his.

We stood there for quite a while, hand in hand. The moon rose high in the sky bathing everything in blue-white light, reflecting off the black water of the stream. It was starting to get cold so we headed back toward town. He didn’t let go of my hand until we were out of the woods and back on the paved road. He walked me back to the inn, raising his hand to the bill of his hat as he wished me good night.

Inside the inn, I took a shower, washing my hair. I found myself smiling, thinking about the way he hadn’t pulled away when I laced my fingers through his. The way he had held my hand as he led me through the dark path back to the road. 

“Oh no,” I muttered. No, I came here to write a story. I did not need to get caught up in some ridiculous feel-good movie of the week plot. I hadn’t had any carnal knowledge, nor romantic knowledge, since Kyle because I did not want to get my heart broken again. I had preferred it that way. 

Except that I didn’t. I missed the feeling of someone’s arms around me, and I missed the other things, too. Sometimes I missed the smell of someone else’s shampoo in the bathroom, or the scent of their cologne on my sheets. I missed the simple feeling of my fingers entwined with someone else’s. But really, what did I have in common with a mechanic ten years my senior in a town that had less people than the apartment complex I lived in back in New Oxford?

I shook my head, and laid back on the bed. I texted Zaira.

What are you doing?

Having drinks with an investment banker. He’s not very good looking, but he took me to Blue Lagoon.

Ooh lala, fancy.

Call you tomorrow?

Sure.

Setting the phone aside, I powered on my laptop and methodically typed up some thoughts I’d had throughout the day, pulling out my phone and taking a look at some of the notes I’d put in there in between chore assignments from Fiona. I uploaded my photographs and scrolled through them. The flowers were truly breathtaking, even in photographs. Eventually, I distracted myself enough to lay back on the bed and close my eyes.

Mercifully, sleep came quickly that evening, before I had too much time with my thoughts.