hope.
As she neared the door of the café, she noticed a man up on a ladder, leaning precariously to one side as he fastened a string of icicle Christmas lights on the eaves with a staple gun. The sun was behind him and she could see only the shadow of his profile, but nevertheless she immediately recognized him—not with her eyes, but with another, deeper sense.
It was Zach.
Her heart lurched into her throat and it took all of her willpower not to turn on her heels and walk the other way. Sure, she wanted to talk about Zach and learn more about him, but she wasn’t ready to see him again. Not yet.
The only thing that stopped her from fleeing was the very real possibility that he had seen her walking up. But, because of the glaring sunlight, she couldn’t tell for sure. He certainly didn’t acknowledge her in any way, nor did he stop what he was doing.
Setting her jaw, she moved past him and into the small café without so much as greeting him. Maybe it was best if they ignored each other.
For now.
Delia stepped inside and then stopped, stunned, as she looked around the small establishment. Whereas the town hadn’t changed at all, the inside of Cup o’ Jo had been entirely renovated. Jo had turned it into Serendipity’s own version of a contemporary internet café, with computers lining the back wall and a printer whirring in the corner.
Despite the high-tech upgrades, the homey feeling Delia remembered from her childhood somehow remained. Perhaps it was the mouthwatering smell of fresh pastries emanating from the kitchen.
Jo, her red curls bouncing right along with her ample figure, approached Delia with a vigor that belied her seventy-plus years.
“As I live and breathe. If it isn’t Miss Delia Rae Ivers, all grown up and looking just gorgeous,” Jo exclaimed in that boisterous but exceedingly friendly way Delia remembered well from childhood. She’d missed the woman, who was like a second mother to her—and to most of the town. “I’d heard you were coming, dear, but how I managed to miss when is beyond me. If I’d have known you’d arrived I would’ve had Phoebe bake you a welcome-home cake.”
At the sound of her name, a very pretty and very pregnant woman, who Delia guessed to be about her own age, turned from the pastry bin where she was stocking and waved at Delia.
“Phoebe is my nephew Chance’s wife,” Jo explained. “And as you can see, I’m about to have a grand-nephew or niece.” She paused and chuckled. “Or is that great-nephew-slash-niece?”
Jo chuckled and waved her hands. “Oh, well. Whatever. I’m just excited for the baby, no matter what his or her technical relation might be called. I’m ready and waiting to smother the little one with love.”
Delia chuckled and nodded to Phoebe. “Congratulations on your baby. You’re welcome to stop by my clinic for the rest of your prenatal care if you’d like.”
Phoebe smiled. “Thank you. I will.”
“But back to you,” Jo inserted, making a speed-of-light U-turn to her original subject, “How long has it been now since you’ve stepped foot in Serendipity?”
Delia realized that the patrons in the café, mostly friends and neighbors from her youth, had stopped what they were doing to see what all the fuss was about. She wasn’t shy, so she didn’t let it bother her. This was as good a way as any to announce she was back in town and had reopened the medical clinic, even if it wasn’t quite what she’d had in mind when she’d walked in the door.
“Ten years,” said a bubbly, high-pitched female voice from behind Delia’s left shoulder. “I ask you, what kind of a friend leaves for ten years without even visiting her friends for the holidays?”
Delia turned to find herself wrapped in the animated embrace of her three best friends from high school—Mary Travis, Alexis Granger and Samantha Howell, who were all talking and squealing in turn. There was a good reason the boys on the football team had labeled them the Little Chicks when they’d been freshmen in high school—even now the chirping sound was unmistakable.
“It’s good to see y’all,” she said, although she knew she’d never be able to express in words how much these women really meant to her. While she’d had friends in Maryland, they were nothing like the Little Chicks. She’d been too wrapped up in medical school and her residency, not to mention single-parenting Riley, to make any truly close connections on the east coast.
“Did you see Zach outside?” Alexis queried, giving Delia’s shoulders another tight squeeze. “He’s hanging the Christmas lights for Jo.”
Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach and thrashed around in burning waves.
“I…yes. I saw him,” she said, hoping that would be enough of an answer to stave off further inquiries.
She wasn’t surprised her friends were asking her about Zach. He’d been her boyfriend all through high school. They didn’t know the whole story, of course, because she hadn’t told them. Other than her parents, she hadn’t told anyone.
But she was going to have to tell them, and soon—keeping the most important part of her life a secret was wearing on her. And, at the moment, it was making her feel a little queasy.
“I’m dying of thirst,” she said in an effort to change the subject, and thinking maybe a little carbonation would settle her stomach. “Can we get a table and catch up on what’s been going on with you? Emailing was nice, but it’s so much better to be face-to-face, don’t you think?”
Her girlfriends might not have taken the hint, but Jo, who was still hovering nearby, certainly did. The older woman began unobtrusively herding the ladies toward a large table next to the far wall.
“Four sodas coming up,” Jo said without waiting for the women to order. “Three diets and one regular.”
Delia chuckled. It was exactly the same drink order the girls had made dozens of times in their youth. She was amazed that Jo remembered.
Samantha flashed a mock scowl. “Your figure is as nice as ever,” she groused. “I was always jealous that you got to eat and drink anything you wanted without putting on a pound, whereas I couldn’t—can’t—even look at a regular soda without gaining weight.”
“You look fine,” Delia countered as Jo returned to the table and passed the drinks around. “You all do.”
“So when is the clinic going to open?” Mary asked. “Old Doc Severns hasn’t been working for a month. If anyone sprains an ankle around here, they have to drive for an hour to get it looked at.”
Delia combed her fingers through the length of her hair, offhandedly massaging her scalp. The vision in her left eye was beginning to blur, a sure sign that she was feeling the start of one of her knock-down, drag-out migraines. She couldn’t imagine why one would hit her now. She was so happy to be with her old friends. It would be a shame if a headache ruined it for her.
Please, God, not today, she thought, trying to breathe deeply.
Not that she was actually praying to God. She’d left her faith when she’d left her youth. It was just a way of thinking and nothing more. It wasn’t as if God, if He was there, had time for her headaches. She’d rather rely
