did. And he must have,
because if her stepfather ever did have an affair, Rachel never heard anything
about it.
She hit the delete button before her mother finished
talking, then scratched out a note, "Call Mother," underscored with
the stick figure in a hangman's noose she'd begun doodling moments before.
She was starving, she couldn’t wait for lunch. She locked
the door to the office and began the short walk to Crane's Pharmacy a block away.
Growing up, Rachel's father had sometimes taken her to
Crane's for milkshakes, or a diet soda once she'd hit puberty and Savannah
started hounding her about her weight. It was one of the only buildings that
weathered the Main Street renovation without losing its 1950’s appeal. Walking
inside and hearing the tiny bell ring above the door took her back to a time
before she was plagued with anxiety, before she'd always asked herself,
"What is the worst possible thing that could happen right now?" She
felt the tension in her shoulders ease just a bit, took a deep breath and made
her way to the back.
"Hey Rachel, where have you been?" Richard Crane
asked politely when he saw her.
He and Rachel went to school together, he’d taken over the
store when his dad died, refusing to sell out to some big conglomerate. He was
big into show jumping when they were younger, he'd lived out at Miller's
Stables, but these days it was more likely to find him shouting at Town Hall
meetings about supporting small business. His wife waved from the pharmacy
counter.
"You know, Richard, just busy with the kids and work.
Trying to keep the old house from falling down. How are y'all?"
"We're pretty good, just bought a new horse. She's
being delivered later today. How's Sugar Babe? You been riding much
lately?"
"No time,” she shook her head, “I've had her stabled
out at Miller's since last year."
Guilt filled her at the thought of the beautiful mare she'd
abandoned when work and kids and life had made it impossible for her to ride anymore.
"That's too bad, you need to make time. I can't
remember a time when you weren't riding, it'll keep you young," he paused
briefly, Rachel knew what was coming, "So how's Kenneth?"
"He's managing, thanks for asking. It's never easy
when you're dealing with sick or injured kids, you know?"
The tiny bell on the front door rang and Richard's wife
called to the new customer, "Hey, how are y’all?"
"I heard that boy's momma was looking to sue y'all,
I'm sorry about that," Richard continued.
"I heard. Yeah. I don't know what will happen, but I'm
sorry for her, I'm sure she's in a lot of pain right now."
She reached into her purse and pretended to look for
something, an excuse to keep moving.
Richard understood, "Well, y'all let us know if we can
help, okay?"
"Thanks so much, Richard. We appreciate it." She
smiled politely and kept digging, her heels clicking as her feet moved towards
the snack aisle in the back, calling back, "See y'all later."
She hated going anywhere for just that reason, she didn't
want to deal with strangers asking her questions, no matter how well-intended.
She had no idea if Michael's mother was serious about suing, she didn't know
many details about his condition, and even under ordinary circumstances it was
never easy to make sense of every exaggerated story and loosely strung together
piece of gossip that made its way through their town.
She slowed to scan the donuts, cupcakes and ding dongs,
needing sugar. She decided on a huge chocolate donut, a pack of chewing gum and
a roll of chocolate chip cookies from the shelf.
The front door bell rang again and people chattered
indistinctly on the other side of the store. She'd have to speed up her little
shopping trip if she didn’t want to talk to anybody else. Turning the corner for
the front, she dropped the chewing gum and knelt down to grab it, then
readjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, looked up and saw him there,
standing alone. The only other person in the
because if her stepfather ever did have an affair, Rachel never heard anything
about it.
She hit the delete button before her mother finished
talking, then scratched out a note, "Call Mother," underscored with
the stick figure in a hangman's noose she'd begun doodling moments before.
She was starving, she couldn’t wait for lunch. She locked
the door to the office and began the short walk to Crane's Pharmacy a block away.
Growing up, Rachel's father had sometimes taken her to
Crane's for milkshakes, or a diet soda once she'd hit puberty and Savannah
started hounding her about her weight. It was one of the only buildings that
weathered the Main Street renovation without losing its 1950’s appeal. Walking
inside and hearing the tiny bell ring above the door took her back to a time
before she was plagued with anxiety, before she'd always asked herself,
"What is the worst possible thing that could happen right now?" She
felt the tension in her shoulders ease just a bit, took a deep breath and made
her way to the back.
"Hey Rachel, where have you been?" Richard Crane
asked politely when he saw her.
He and Rachel went to school together, he’d taken over the
store when his dad died, refusing to sell out to some big conglomerate. He was
big into show jumping when they were younger, he'd lived out at Miller's
Stables, but these days it was more likely to find him shouting at Town Hall
meetings about supporting small business. His wife waved from the pharmacy
counter.
"You know, Richard, just busy with the kids and work.
Trying to keep the old house from falling down. How are y'all?"
"We're pretty good, just bought a new horse. She's
being delivered later today. How's Sugar Babe? You been riding much
lately?"
"No time,” she shook her head, “I've had her stabled
out at Miller's since last year."
Guilt filled her at the thought of the beautiful mare she'd
abandoned when work and kids and life had made it impossible for her to ride anymore.
"That's too bad, you need to make time. I can't
remember a time when you weren't riding, it'll keep you young," he paused
briefly, Rachel knew what was coming, "So how's Kenneth?"
"He's managing, thanks for asking. It's never easy
when you're dealing with sick or injured kids, you know?"
The tiny bell on the front door rang and Richard's wife
called to the new customer, "Hey, how are y’all?"
"I heard that boy's momma was looking to sue y'all,
I'm sorry about that," Richard continued.
"I heard. Yeah. I don't know what will happen, but I'm
sorry for her, I'm sure she's in a lot of pain right now."
She reached into her purse and pretended to look for
something, an excuse to keep moving.
Richard understood, "Well, y'all let us know if we can
help, okay?"
"Thanks so much, Richard. We appreciate it." She
smiled politely and kept digging, her heels clicking as her feet moved towards
the snack aisle in the back, calling back, "See y'all later."
She hated going anywhere for just that reason, she didn't
want to deal with strangers asking her questions, no matter how well-intended.
She had no idea if Michael's mother was serious about suing, she didn't know
many details about his condition, and even under ordinary circumstances it was
never easy to make sense of every exaggerated story and loosely strung together
piece of gossip that made its way through their town.
She slowed to scan the donuts, cupcakes and ding dongs,
needing sugar. She decided on a huge chocolate donut, a pack of chewing gum and
a roll of chocolate chip cookies from the shelf.
The front door bell rang again and people chattered
indistinctly on the other side of the store. She'd have to speed up her little
shopping trip if she didn’t want to talk to anybody else. Turning the corner for
the front, she dropped the chewing gum and knelt down to grab it, then
readjusted the purse strap on her shoulder, looked up and saw him there,
standing alone. The only other person in the
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