Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
He gamely applauded and praised their talent, examining the bottoms of their shoes and offering to get them a big piece of plywood if they wanted a better practice surface.
But he barely even looked in my direction.
The week began smoothly enough—I had the morning routine down pat, and running errands was quicker now that I knew my way around town. I was good at remembering names and faces, so it was nice to be able to call out a personal greeting when I passed someone on the street or grabbed coffee on Main Street or checked out at a shop downtown.
On Wednesday evening, I taught a social dance class for seniors at the library, and the librarian—Noreen, whose sister Faye had been married to Austin’s Uncle Harry—said it was the most crowded the mixer had ever been. She asked if I’d come back every week during the summer, and I said yes.
Thursday night was my biggest culinary triumph yet—I managed to serve a meal that Austin finished. And then he had seconds! Granted, it’s hard to screw up tacos, but whatever. It felt like a victory.
Afterward, however, he disappeared into the garage like he had every other night, while the kids and I ate popsicles on the front porch. Then they played outside with the other neighborhood kids until it got dark, when I corralled them into the house for showers and one last snack.
At some point during the bedtime routine each night, Austin would come in and say, “Thanks, I’ll take over,” and we’d change places without directly meeting each other’s eyes. I’d say goodnight to the kids and head back to my place above the garage, and he’d get the kids tucked in. Sometimes I heard him come back out to the garage and work a little more, but he never invited me to have a beer with him again, and he certainly didn’t come knock on my door.
By the weekend, I was feeling kind of lonely and isolated. Owen and Addie were great, and the seniors in dance class had been adorable, but I was sort of craving interaction with someone my age. Friendship. Camaraderie. It has been missing from my life ever since I’d been engaged to Neil. I’d never made girlfriends of my own in Chicago—just his sisters or the wives and girlfriends of his work or golf buddies. And I’d had nothing in common with those women.
I couldn’t call Morgan every night—she was busy with a newborn baby. Mabel had texted me a couple times over the last couple weeks asking how things were going, but I didn’t want to burden her either. I especially didn’t want to admit that part of my problem was a strong attraction to her brother.
But all physical urges aside, I really did like it when Austin and I had talked . . . Neil had not been a good listener. He’d pretend to listen, he’d say things like “right” and “uh huh,” but his eyes would glaze over, and he always found a way to bring the conversation around to a topic he could mansplain to me. We just never understood each other.
But somehow, I felt like Austin got me. Maybe it was because he’d lost his mom too. Maybe it was because I was a lot more myself around Austin than I had been around Neil. Maybe it was simply because Austin wasn’t a rich selfish prick.
Whatever the reason, I felt the loss of his friendship even though it had barely begun. I started to think about maybe trying to go see Morgan while the kids were gone, if I could scrape the money together to get there. Then while I was in the city, maybe I could see about a job and a living situation for the fall.
On Friday morning, after I’d dropped the kids at camp, I called her.
“Speak of the devil!” she said when she picked up. “I was just talking about you.”
The familiarity of her voice made me smile. “You were?”
“Yes. I might have solved your employment issues! Jake went to a meeting yesterday about a new show that’s opening this fall. Scott Blackstone is the choreographer, and apparently, he’s looking for a new assistant.”
I gasped. I’d taken Scott’s musical theater dance class for years when I lived in the city, and I loved both his choreography and his teaching style. He’d asked me to assist him in the past during my off-season whenever he’d do college workshops or festivals, and we worked really well together. But I hadn’t been in touch with him since I left New York. “Oh my god, that would be perfect!”
“I know! I told Jake to float your name. Okay to give Scott your new number? He adored you. I bet you’d get the gig.”
“Of course! Thank you—I’m so anxious to get back to New York.”