One Perfect Year

Christine chuckled and said cryptically, “I hope it comes with feathers.”

The old woman turned faded gray eyes toward Shelby, seeming to see past Shelby’s worn blue jeans and stained work jacket. “And a soft yellow calico sundress for you because you used to lay in the grass in the town square, stare at the blue sky and watch the clouds drift past. From the shade of your complexion, you could definitely use some fun in the sun, girlie.”

“I get outside.” Occasionally. When she wasn’t busy in someone’s dark wine cellar. Okay, that should have been always. Shelby did a quick shoulder roll, trying to shake the effect of her being back in the bridal shop for the first time.

Christine looked thoughtful. “I bet you’d be great in that sundress.”

“I bet men would fall over each other at the sight.” Mae sighed dreamily. She was still a hopeless romantic.

“Let’s not get carried away,” Shelby said, hearing Gage’s voice and his wow, as if he was in the room with them.

Mayor Larry leaned against the wall. “Is there any hope for one of my buildings?”

“Nope.” Mae hadn’t lost any of her chutzpah or her selling skills. “The bonus to my property is it also has an apartment upstairs.” She knew what to say to demoralize the competition and increase a customer’s value perception. It was like choosing a dress, and then being sold a tiara and matching earrings at a bundled price. “Very efficient to live and work here if you aren’t going to enjoy the sunshine.”

Christine nodded, then looked at Shelby. “Free rent, Shelby. What do you think?”

Shelby wanted a moment of quiet reflection to make peace with the shop. This was a place of dreams and happily-ever-afters. Shelby’s dreams had crashed into a dead end. The front door swung open. Gage filled the doorway—tall, broad shouldered, the black hair over his forehead spiked up as if he’d run his hand through it in frustration. Once she would have smoothed the silky strands of his cowlick in place.

Gage greeted each of them in turn. Then he gave Shelby a look that questioned: Are you all right?

He’d always been able to read her mood. Despite their hiatus, his presence was comforting. Her angst over the past and the aura of happy brides faded. In its place came a sense of guilt over her private nickname for him. Turns out, Dead Gage wasn’t quite so dead anymore.

On a sigh, she caught his glance, and brushed at her bangs with her fingers.

Gage impatiently and ineffectively swiped at his hair. “We were just walking by on our way to Doc’s office. I didn’t realize it would tire him out. Wow.”

“Quit saying wow,” Grandpa called out.

Peering through the front window, Shelby spotted her grandfather. Sure enough, he was sitting on a sidewalk bench, looking winded. He gave her a dismissive, don’t-treat-me-like-an-invalid wave.

Shelby responded by crossing her arms and sending Grandpa a stern look. “He doesn’t want to admit he needs help getting around. A cane or a walker or one of those motorized chairs would be ideal.”

“Stubborn coot.” Mae laughed huskily. “Just like the rest of us old fools.”

“Leave him his pride, ladies, while he takes a breather.” Gage stepped forward, glancing from one end of the room to the other. “I remember this place.”

Eventually, his warm gaze landed on Shelby, making the whole thing seem faintly reminiscent of when they’d been here the first time to choose her bridal gown. “Is this where your new wine cellar is going?”

“Apparently,” Mayor Larry muttered. “I suppose I’m done here.”

“I’m afraid so, Larry.” Ever the one to smooth ruffled feathers, Christine kissed his cheek. “I’ll see you for yoga in the morning. We can talk about that acreage you own at the base of Parish Hill.”

Mayor Larry brightened and left, pausing to chat with Grandpa outside.

“Let’s check out the apartment,” Mae said, even though she didn’t look fit enough to climb stairs. Without waiting for an answer, she shuffled toward the back. Her cane echoed throughout the store.

Christine, Shelby and Gage took the stairs at Mae’s pace. Poor Mae paused every other step to catch her breath.

It was stifling in the stairwell. But with four bodies and a tight space, of course, the air would grow hotter. Surely it had nothing to do with Gage, who was only a mere step behind Shelby.

She willed herself to be reasonable, but the intimacy of being this close to Gage persisted and she searched for a cause. Maybe she’d developed claustrophobia. Maybe the angst from downstairs was building again. Maybe the building had retained the heat of summer along with bridal dreams.

All they’d ever been to each other was friends. All she’d ever felt for him was warm affection and the pain of desertion. Until he’d touched her hand last night.

“A lot of stores downtown have apartments upstairs, but most are studios,” Mae rasped. “This is a one bedroom.” She took the last step, opened the door and moved into the living space. She wheezed and practically collapsed onto a lone dining room chair. “I lived here in between a couple of my marriages.”

Christine went to stand in the middle of the room, turning to survey the apartment’s assets.

Unsure if she’d appreciate any assets, Shelby hesitated by the stairs.

Other than Mae’s chair, the place was vacant. The opposite of the optimism downstairs. The hardwood floors were stained and covered in a layer of grime. Purple striped, velvet wallpaper had started to peel. Dust-moted sunlight filtered through grungy windows. A musty smell threatened to clog Shelby’s lungs. But the most difficult obstacle to breathing seemed to be Gage. His footfalls behind her on the steps had been steady, measured and reliable. Everything she’d longed for in a friend. If only he hadn’t bailed, she’d believe in the dependable facade he presented.

If only she believed in the long-term.

“It’s bigger than my apartment in Davis.” Gage put both hands on Shelby’s shoulders and maneuvered past her. As his hands dropped away, he seemed to take her tension with him, allowing her to breathe again.

“It’s...nice,” Shelby allowed, finally coming forward. She moved to the kitchen nook, opened the ancient refrigerator and immediately closed it, backing away. “There’s something growing inside there.”

Gage checked it out, grimacing. “I think it was a carton of milk once.” He shut the fridge just as quickly as she had. “It’s like something Mrs. Bernhardt had us experiment with in science class. Your mold was always the worst smelling, remember?”

She did. It’d smelled awful.

They exchanged smiles. His was full-wattage charming, plus something that hadn’t been in his expression in the past. Something almost...flirtatious. That couldn’t be.

Whatever it was, it unnerved her. She blinked, and suddenly the something was gone. And the awkwardness she’d been feeling dissipated.

But she continued studying him.

Why had she never noticed how perfect his lips were before? He smiled, but it was the smile he used to disguise what he was really thinking. She didn’t know enough about what was going on in his life to pinpoint whatever he was concealing. Was he still grieving? Was he overwhelmed, as she was, by Harmony Valley memories? Was he regretting abandoning her two years ago?

Don’t open the door to caring. He was Dead Gage. And he was leaving soon. “We’ll outfit the space with all new appliances,” Christine was saying. “This is the Taj Mahal compared to the condition of the sheriff’s apartment when he moved in above the station.”

“On a clear day, if you stand on your tip-toes, you can see the bend in the river.” Mae spoke in a faraway tone, more to herself than anyone else.

Quirking an eyebrow at the senior, Gage then entered the bedroom. As if magnetized, Shelby followed, pausing in the doorway and hearing Christine come up behind her.

“They used to hold dances in the town square on summer nights.” Mae continued to speak as if drifting between memories. “It used to be a privilege to live downtown, didn’t it, Oliver?”

“Who?” Christine whispered.

“Uh, she means Gage, I think.” At least, Shelby hoped so. “Gage, did it used to be cool to live downtown?”

“How would he know?” Mae coughed deeply, reaching in her pocket for a crumpled tissue and spitting in it. “This place has always brought me luck in love. If Shelby lived here, she’d be engaged again in no time, perhaps to that young man right there. You two would make beautiful babies. His midnight hair. Her sky-blue eyes.”

The man under question was scanning the perimeter of the room, hopefully unaware of the heat collecting in Shelby’s cheeks. He pointed to the baseboards. “Mice droppings. You’ll need a good mouser.”

“Ew.” Shelby backed out of the doorway, bumping into Christine, making a mental note to ask her grandfather about Mae’s mental health.