—Printed birth announcement from Randi and Rhoda, captioning a stunning baby photo
Izzy caught sight of Randi through the boutique window and slowed her stride, clinging tighter to her slim hope that she and Rhoda had somehow missed hearing her on Second Date Update. Randi was sliding a new cash drawer into the register, likely just starting her late-afternoon shift, and the store appeared empty. Here it was, a chance to face something head on for once, to clear up any misunderstanding or gossip, and before she could stop and think about it she found herself pushing through the door with a sheepish wave.
“Izzy! How’ve you been?” Randi tossed her long braid over her shoulder. Even as her face lit up in a genuine enough smile, something in her eyes seemed to be weighing her options.
“Well, it hasn’t been a boring week,” Izzy said cautiously, approaching the counter.
“I guess not,” Randi said, her forehead wrinkling. Izzy nodded. So she had heard it, then.
“I hope you didn’t think that I—”
Randi shook her head. “I didn’t think anything about you.”
The words were a small kindness, and gratitude washed over Izzy. The only person she’d talked to, even a little bit, about anything to do with Paul was Clara, and that conversation had so much to do with Clara and so little to do with Paul that it hardly counted. She felt an urge to explain it all to Randi right here at the register, from the beginning, and realized with a start her own unlikely synergy with Kristin, albeit on a much smaller scale. For both of them, Paul’s side of the story was the only one anyone had heard. And far too many people had heard it.
She’d tried too hard not to let that bother her about Paul and Kristin’s situation before—a fact she was realizing too late. It should have bothered her then. And it bothered her now.
She cleared her throat. “Well, in case you did, it’s not happening. No second date. No first date, for that matter.”
“Well, good,” Randi said. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but the whole thing made me a bit nervous.” She laughed uneasily. “I guess I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry. I don’t even know why you backed out. It’s just that ever since Kristin disappeared, I feel like the whole energy of the neighborhood is off balance.”
“It’s okay,” Izzy said. “I know what you mean. And that’s not exactly the reason why. Or at least, it wasn’t. But then it kind of became part of the reason. I don’t know.” She sighed. “I told him later that same night that I’d changed my mind. To tell you the truth, I’ve been feeling horribly guilty about it. I can’t shake it.”
“Guilty?” Randi shook her head. “It’s not your fault he decided to stage the whole thing on the radio. If you ask me, you need to be braced for some degree of embarrassment if you’re foolish enough or brave enough or whatever enough to make that call.”
“Oh, I don’t feel guilty about him. I feel guilty about me.” Izzy leaned on the counter and peered into the pretty basket of impulse buys. The contents rotated, but today it was filled with little felt flower pins. She rubbed the leaf of one between her thumb and forefinger. Its fibers were unexpectedly rough against her skin. “I wasn’t entirely honest, with the reasons I gave. I said … oh, God, I don’t even know why I did it. In the moment it seemed like some kind of external factor would make everything easier for him to take.”
“What did you say?”
Izzy tilted the basket to get a better look at the array inside. She could picture her mother pinning one to the lapel of a coat. “I said my dad was sick, that I was going to be focusing on my family, driving back and forth to Springfield to help. It just popped into my head. I wanted to extract myself—completely, you know?—and I kind of panicked.”
“But your dad, he’s—?”
Izzy shook her head. “He had tests run recently, and you know how the subconscious works. It was a false alarm, but now I’m afraid he’s going to get sick. I’m terrified I’ve conjured bad juju—putting that out there, just asking for the lie to come true.” Izzy met Randi’s eyes in a reluctant attempt to gauge the scale of her disapproval.
“Oh, Izzy. No one will ever know you said that. Forget it. You did what came to mind in the moment. And if it did the job, got through to him, then that’s what matters. Obsessing—that’s where the bad juju comes in. And trust me, I know juju. I sell juju for a living.” She gestured to the wall of charms, stones, and crystals on display behind her, and Izzy was enjoying her first genuine laugh in days when Rhoda burst through the curtain from the back room and looked around expectantly.
“Hey, Izzy. Man, busy day for the neighborhood. Where did he go?”
Izzy and Randi both frowned at her. “Who?” Randi asked.
“Paul. I just went to check something for him, in the winter inventory—”
“Right here.” To Izzy’s left was the alcove of garden things and other oversized décor, and Paul stepped out from around the partition into her peripheral vision. She froze, not turning to greet him, not moving even to breathe. Randi’s eyes bored into hers with all the questions Izzy herself was thinking: How long had he been standing there, so close? How much had he heard?
“Sorry that took so long!” Rhoda was using her saleslady voice, reserved for strangers. “But yes, we did have more of those come in this year, so it’s no problem to accommodate the late return. Happy to help.”
“I appreciate this.” Paul held out a woman’s scarf and matching hat with the tags still on, and Rhoda took them. “I know she thought they were beautiful,” he said, his voice thick with apologetic charm. “I can’t imagine why she didn’t even take the tags off. She must have just misplaced them.”
Izzy stood to the side so Paul could step to the register. “Hi, there, Izzy. I didn’t realize that was you.”
“Hello.” Her cheeks were burning.
“I’m always doing that myself,” Rhoda said, “getting all these Christmas gifts I just love and then forgetting about them. I have such a big family, it’s always chaos, and I’m sure it was the same with the twins.” The four of them collectively cringed at the mention of Abby and Aaron, none of them doing a very good job of hiding it, and Rhoda’s fingers moved hastily as she processed the refund.
“Yes, it’s quite the project packing it all up for storage now. So thanks again for taking this much off my hands. It’s a small dent, but at least it’s something.” Paul took his receipt and nodded his good-bye at Rhoda. “Take care,” he said to Izzy, his face neutral as he pushed through the door in a tingle of wind chimes.
“They weren’t her style at all,” Rhoda muttered. “I tried to talk him into this gray pattern she would have loved, but he already had his mind set on the display he’d seen from the street, without even taking a closer look.”
Izzy let out a loud breath and dropped her head, groaning as Randi reached out a hand almost involuntarily. “I don’t think he heard, I think I would have seen…” Randi’s reassurance was weak, and she didn’t even bother to finish the sentence.
Rhoda looked, confused, from one to the other.
“What? What did I miss?”
*
Izzy was plopping her purse on the kitchen counter when the knock came at the front door. She froze, keys still in her hand, her muscles reflexively tensing. Finally, she’d cleaned the last of the boxes out of the garage so she could pull the car in, and she hadn’t seen anyone on the street. Who could it be but Paul? But even if he had overheard what she said to Randi, would he really put them both through the humiliation of having this out again?