“Work clothes.”
She arches a brow. “I thought you told me the other day you didn’t need anything.”
“That was before—” I hold my tongue and then pivot. “I just changed my mind. These clothes are new and I spent all afternoon with Mrs. Williams getting them altered.”
She smirks. “So you do know, don’t you?”
“About what, Mother?”
The use of the word mother hints at my annoyance with her, like when she uses my full name.
She rubs her temple and sighs. “I only found out a few days before you moved back. I was going to tell you, but I’m a selfish woman and I wanted you back here. You’ve been gone too long.”
“You still should have told me.”
She nods, agreeing. “I take it from the clothes that you’re not leaving?”
“Do you think I should?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Do you want to see what I bought then?”
It’s an olive branch and she takes it readily. Truthfully, I’m not that upset that she didn’t tell me Lucas moved back sooner; I understand her reasoning. She and I have always been close, especially since it was just the two of us for so many years after my dad got sick when I was little. She hardly wanted me to leave for college and now that I’m back, I have no plans to leave this town again. No, McCormick Family Practice is as good as mine.
We’re upstairs in my room picking out my outfit for my first day of work when my phone rings on the nightstand. It’s a number I don’t recognize and I nearly ignore it, but curiosity gets the better of me.
Waving my mom out, I lock the door and answer.
“Hello?”
“Daisy Bell.”
I haven’t heard his voice in 11 years.
“May I ask who’s calling?”
“I think you know.”
“Lucas Thatcher. I don’t recognize the number. Am I your one call from jail?”
“I called from a payphone. I don’t want you tracing this.”
“It’s 2017—where did you find a payphone?”
“That’s irrelevant. Listen, we haven’t seen each other in a long time, and I wanted to break the ice. I don’t want things to get ugly tomorrow.”
“I don’t have any clue what you’re talking about. I’m looking forward to working together, Lucas.”
“Y’know, after all these years, I can still tell when you’re lying—but it doesn’t matter. This is your chance to bow out, Daisy. Gracefully. You can tell everyone you got another job.”
“You’ll be the one bowing, Lucas, when Dr. McCormick sees the mistake he’s made in hiring you.”
“Not likely.”
“I’m going to bring him snickerdoodles. Dr. McCormick loves snickerdoodles.”
“We’re going golfing on Saturday and I’m going to let him win.”
“You hate losing.”
“Only to you.”
“Well then the next few months won’t be very pleasant for you.”
“Are you done? I’m about to have to put in another quarter.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t call collect and make me pay.”
I think I hear him chuckle, but it could be a crackle from the ancient payphone.
“I’ll see you in the morning then, Dr. Bell.”
I open my mouth, but then decide to end the call without dignifying him with a response.
Not if I see you first.
Chapter Three
It was a shock to no one that Lucas and I both took the pre-med track in college. What career path is worth pursuing more than medicine? Perhaps law, but neither of us had enjoyed the mock trials we suffered through in Ms. Pace’s ninth grade history class. The only reason we’d put any effort into it at all was because we were pitted against one another, opposing counsel. I’d won, offering up a closing argument so good Atticus Finch would have been proud. Ms. Pace had consumed a heroic amount of Excedrin that year.
Our senior year of high school, Lucas was offered a full ride to Stanford. Duke extended me the same. The fact that our universities were on opposite coasts further cemented our choices. In fact, I’d have gone all the way to New Zealand if they had offered me a full ride.
After I moved away for college, information about Lucas was only offered up by Madeleine. We had an unspoken rule wherein I never asked about him and she brought him up often, as if I cared what he was doing with his life. She was the one to tell me when he was visiting home so I could stagger my visits. Once I confirmed that Lucas was away, I’d return home in short, anxiety-ridden bursts. The idea of him popping up in our small town at any time made it impossible to enjoy the holidays.