Hope would too, she realized. She’d be very sorry to go, but not because she didn’t want to return to Chicago. Because she didn’t think she was quite ready to leave the island. And more and more, she wasn’t sure that she ever would be.
***
She left the shop a few minutes later, after exchanging phone numbers and agreeing to meet with Darcy Ritter up on the bluff this Friday, something which seemed to bring as much relief to Sheila as it did excitement to Hope.
She fought the urge to hold in her news, realizing that she wasn’t sure that there was anyone she could tell who would understand just how much this meant to her. Gemma seemed to think that her life was perfect; that she didn’t need to seek change. And Ellie…well, Ellie was too wrapped up in Simon and the argument with Gemma to care very much about Hope having a meeting with Darcy, head of the local quilting club. Ellie had her paintings in stores, after all.
Her so-called friends in the neighborhood would be downright appalled. A job? That word ranked up there with snake pit when it came to fear factor.
And of course Evan. She hadn’t even thought to tell Evan.
Sobering, she decided to treat herself to an iced coffee, and the girls to a baked good of their choice, considering they had behaved so well during that interaction. She pushed the stroller into the Cottage Coffeehouse off Water Street, her spirits lifting again when she saw John at the corner table, a laptop open and a bunch of paperwork spread out in front of him.
She stood in line, placed her order, wondering if she should bother him, questioning why she had a burning desire to share her news with him, when no one else felt like an option at the moment.
She glanced his way, waiting to see if he would look up, and then, when she collected her coffee, and she had to decide whether to take her own seat or leave without saying anything, he rubbed a hand across his face wearily and looked up. She smiled. He smiled. And then, with an unspoken invitation, she walked to his table.
“Hello.” Was it just her, or did John seem happy to see her? His eyes were crinkled and his smile was broad and he pulled out a chair. It squeaked against the floorboards. “Sit if you have time.”
She glanced at the girls, deciding the muffins would keep them occupied for a few minutes at least.
“Sure,” she said with more excitement than she had planned, but she couldn’t help it. Her good mood was bubbling up inside her; even her step had a skip in it.
John picked up on it right away and gave her an inquisitive grin. “You’re awfully chipper today.”
It was true. She was. And he was more used to seeing her frazzled and weary, wasn’t he?
“I’ve had some good news,” she said. She paused, fearful that once she made her announcement, her bubble would burst, that he’d let her down, the way so many had before. That he’d remind her that she was a mother, point out that the kids needed her, that she’d have time for all that other stuff in a few years. That he’d fail to recognize what this meant to her. That she’d feel foolish and regret all of it. “I’ve been offered a position, well, an opportunity, you might call it, to be a design consultant for the interior décor shop over on Main Street.”
“That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed, and Hope realized in that moment that she loved him for that, even though she shouldn’t. After all, what did she know about this man other than that he was kind and helpful? And handsome, she thought. He was very handsome.
“Thanks,” she said, licking her bottom lip. She took a sip of her coffee and leaned in. “You’re the first person I’ve told. It just happened, so I’m a little frazzled.”
“You? Frazzled?” He gave her a wink and she laughed out loud.
“Most people don’t see that side of me,” she admitted. Maybe that was the difference. With John, she was her true self, maybe even her weakest self. And she didn’t mind. No pretense. No airs. And from him, no judgment.
If anything, she might even go so far as to say that he seemed to like her.
“So, tell me more about the job,” he said, closing his laptop.
For a moment, she felt bad. She’d interrupted his work. But then she realized that he wanted to be interrupted. He’d chosen to give her his full attention. He actually wanted to hear her describe her passion, her interest, her knowledge.
She swallowed, her mind racing at how to describe her responsibilities. “Well, I’ll be meeting with some of the local clients in their homes, to help them maximize their full potential. Some projects will be small, but it’s the bigger ones, the ones that require more of a renovation that excite me the most.”
“Keep talking like that and I might hire you to help with the inn that I’m planning to buy.”
She blinked. Was he serious? That wasn’t a job he was describing…that was a career! Her heart began to race when she considered what that implied, but then she realized she was getting ahead of herself. She hadn’t even met with Darcy yet.
“Needless to say, it’s a great opportunity and it was certainly unexpected.” She smiled as she took another sip of her coffee.
“You look happy about that,” he said, grinning. “It suits you well.”
Her cheeks flared as their eyes caught and immediately John held up a hand. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.”
“Not at all,” Hope said. She wasn’t used to compliments, she realized. She couldn't recall the last time she’d been given one by Evan. On their anniversary? She’d worn that black strapless dress that still fit, even though she’d bought it before the twins were born, for one of Evan’s company dinners. When they’d first met, and even early into their marriage, he would compliment her when she made a special effort, but those days had faded. Life had become even more practical, and romance…well, romance wasn’t practical at all, was it?
She glanced down at her rings. She saw John do the same.
No, she thought to herself, there was nothing practical about any of this.
“My husband isn’t with me on this trip,” she said.
He held up a hand. “You don’t need to explain.”
She considered that. Maybe she didn’t need to explain. Maybe there was no need. They were just two people on a small island who kept bumping into each other. She was a lonely woman. And he was a kind man.
Except she didn’t think it stopped there. And the look in his eyes told her that he didn’t think so either. There was a sadness there, a resigned acceptance that she couldn’t exactly place.
“I feel the need to, though,” she said. “We’re…” She didn’t know how to finish that sentence. She didn’t know what she and Evan were, only what they had once been. Once, they had been friends—the sort of friends who knew that they were a good match. On paper. But what about in real life? What about when it mattered?
They rarely laughed anymore. She couldn’t blame Evan, not entirely. It felt like their entire life together was one long string of events, of things they were supposed to do, not things that they wanted to do. He worked hard, and she worked hard. Only more and more it seemed that while he could complain about a meeting with his boss or a difficult client, if she complained about Rose having a potty accident in the middle of a store or even being tired after a long day of taking the twins to all their kid-activities, that she was looked at as being a bad mother. Not a busy one. Not a person with feelings that mattered.