a couple. Weren’t they?
“As a matter of fact, it’s probably a good thing we don’t give Delvecchio one more thing to latch on to.”
“Orlando—”
His phone rang, and he grabbed it. She gritted her teeth. Couldn’t he for once let it go to voice mail?
He answered, listened briefly, then handed her the phone. “It’s your mother. She’s been trying to reach you.”
Sonnet grabbed it. “Mom, hey. I, uh, lost my phone today—”
“Oh, no wonder I couldn’t get you. Sorry to call so late.”
“Is everything okay?”
A beat of hesitation passed. “Why do you ask?”
“Daisy said you had news. Geez, Mom.”
“She’s right, honey. I’ve got a little news. Are you… Um, is this a good time to talk?”
“It’s fine. Just tell me, Mom. You’re freaking me out.”
“Have a seat, Sonnet.”
* * *
Sonnet carefully set the phone receiver back in its cradle. She felt strangely disoriented as she approached Orlando. He was now busy checking his email on his iPad. “Um…there’s been a change of plans.”
He barely looked up from his screen. “Yeah?”
“Are you listening?”
“Yeah. Sure, babe.”
She hesitated, so filled with the news from home she couldn’t think straight. She wished she felt closer to Orlando in this moment. She longed for their relationship to be further along, so that she could tell him anything and everything. But when she tried to come up with the words to explain, she felt frustrated before she even began.
Meanwhile, he’d gone back to reading on his iPad, the bluish glow of the screen outlining the angles of his chiseled features.
“Orlando.”
“Uh-huh?”
She abandoned the idea of explaining everything to him. So she simply told him, “I have to go back to Avalon.”
Chapter Four
“How about a cream-filled delight?” The waitress named Glynnis leaned toward Zach Alger and moistened her lips, just in case he missed the suggestion.
He didn’t miss it. Kind of hard to miss a rack like Glynnis had. She was one of several women he’d dated, but she wanted something from him he had no capacity to give. Not to her, anyway. There wasn’t a thing wrong with her…except that she was wrong for him.
“I’m good, thanks,” he said, swirling the coffee in his mug.
“God, Zach, don’t you know I’m hitting on you? You used to be fun. What’s the matter with you?”
Great, he thought. She’s going to make me say it. “Hey,” he said, “that’s really cool and you know I like you, but—”
“Whoa.” She held up her hand, palm out. “I’d just as soon you didn’t finish that thought. I can already see where you’re going with it.”
He tried not to show his relief. “I’m sorry. It’s not you.”
“Clearly not. God, I need to get the hell out of this burg. Don’t you ever get the feeling you’re fading away?”
Honestly, he didn’t. Right here, in the middle of this small town, was where he felt most alive. Which probably meant there was something the matter with him.
“Me? Fading?” he said, trying to lighten the moment. “No way.”
“Have the cream-filled delight anyway.” She shoved a thick white china plate onto his table. “And don’t forget to tip your server,” she added as she went back to the counter.
Not only would it be rude to refuse the treat at this time, it would be foolhardy. No one in his right mind refused a pastry from the Sky River Bakery.
His love affair with the Sky River Bakery had begun way back when he was a tiny kid. Now it was still his favorite place to sit with a big mug of coffee and a cruller, getting into work mode for the day. The place looked virtually the same as it had all those years ago, although it had been stylishly updated by Jenny McKnight, the owner. There were café tables made from rounds of maple wood, a changing display of work by local artists, and a black-and-white checked floor. It still had an old-fashioned feel to it, and the warm, fragrant atmosphere created an air of nostalgia. Zach sometimes used it as the setting for wedding videos or personal narratives. The morning crowd was present—locals grabbing a bite, retired folks chatting over the day’s New York Times, a couple of tourists perusing an area map.
In fact, the family-run shop was the site of his earliest memory. His mom was taking him to the first day of kindergarten and he was practically catatonic with terror. She’d grabbed his hand and ducked into the bakery, which was just a block from the primary school. He could still remember the sugary, buttery smell of the place, the smell of comfort.
His mom had bought him an apple kolache and a cup of hot chocolate, and she’d told him that going to school was a big adventure for a little boy, and that he was going to love it. And she’d filmed the whole thing. That was his mom’s thing—documenting her life. She’d been compulsive about it, capturing moments on her video camera. His mom had filmed everything—his first day of school, his first lost tooth, his exploits on the soccer field, his disastrous attempts to emulate Jimmy Page. She didn’t put herself in the picture much but her voice often came from behind the camera, always encouraging and sweet-toned. It was as if she’d known she wouldn’t be around that long, and wanted to capture the two of them together for posterity. And sure enough, one day the filming had stopped, and she had moved away. Far away.
He hadn’t seen it coming that day, and he hadn’t been fooled for a minute by her pep talk about kindergarten. His head was full of nightmare visions of snarling teachers, an endless maze of hallways, rooms full of strangers. But then, as he was chewing on a bit of kolache, Sonnet Romano had breezed into the bakery, completely by herself. She wore a pink backpack with pockets and zippers, and pencils all lined up like bullet cartridges in an ammo belt. She wore her curly black hair in twin braids, and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.
All by herself, she marched up to the counter. Her pointy little chin barely reached the edge. “One iced maple bar, please. And can you put it in a nice box? It’s for my teacher. Today is my first day in kindergarten and I’m bringing her a treat.” She carefully placed her money on the counter. “My mom said this is the right amount. She had to work today.”
Zach stared at her in amazement. His mother nodded with approval. “It’s that nice Sonnet Romano from play group. Why don’t you go say hi?”
Zach recoiled in horror. He nearly gagged on his pastry.
While Sonnet waited for her parcel, she turned, zeroing in on him like a laser. “You’re
