“If I screw up, you’ll forgive me.”
Kagan shot him a pensive look. “There’s nothing to screw up. Besides.” She bumped his hip. “Whatever happens is short-term. I think we can both handle that.”
…
Shane wandered around the art show looking for Kagan. White canopies shaded the booths, but the sun’s rays heated up the open hospital courtyard and sweat trickled down his back. He lifted his sunglasses off his nose and wiped his cheek. A healthy crowd still shopped even though many of the sellers were packing up, the ten-to-two timeframe nearly over.
Mrs. Witt, one of Cascade’s long-time residents, hobbled toward him, barely able to carry all of her purchases.
“Let me help you with that,” Shane said, taking the bags out of her hands. They probably weighed as much as her small, frail frame.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She patted his arm and smiled, the wrinkles on her face deepening. “I thought I’d get my holiday shopping done early this year and forgot to bring my wagon.”
“You’ve still got the red wagon?” Shane turned and walked beside Mrs. Witt, his thoughts reeling back to when he and Sela would climb into the Radio Flyer and accidentally smash her Farmers market groceries. She never got mad, never scolded, just politely told them to watch out for the tomatoes.
“Of course I do. That wagon holds a lot of memories.”
He smiled. He’d left Cascade for college and business school in Washington, but always knew he’d come back. Portland was close enough to satisfy his desire for city life, and he drove there once or twice a week for work, since Burke & Associates had an office there too.
But it didn’t get much better than Cascade, what with the ocean, mountains, and abundance of recreational activities. There were great restaurants and great people. Cascade’s blog summed it up perfectly: big living in a small place.
As he and Mrs. Witt headed to the parking lot in amiable silence, the picture of him and Kagan at The Duchess opening flitted through his mind. The photo had been plastered on Cascade’s blog and in the Gazette yesterday morning. It had captured Kagan’s brilliant smile—and his fondness. Both his mom and Sela had called him wanting to know what was going on, but he couldn’t spit it out. Couldn’t say the word boyfriend. In high school and college he’d played the field, never settling down with just one girl. When he did meet someone in grad school special enough to call his girlfriend, he’d been happy. Until he’d screwed it up, until he’d done something unforgiveable.
He swallowed the bad taste that always lingered in the back of his throat when he thought back to Mia and how much he’d hurt her.
Mrs. Witt hit a button on her key ring and the trunk of her car popped open. Shane deposited her bags and told her to have a good afternoon. She gave him a big ol’ hug and whispered, “Kagan is the last booth on the left.”
Then she winked! Sweet, gray-haired Mrs. Witt blinked an eye at him. He had no response, either to the wink or to her knowing whom he was here to see. Damn gossipy blog.
He reminded himself he was Kagan’s friend and helping her with a problem as he took swift steps back to where the action was and found her. Her long blond hair was pulled up into a bun on top of her head, and a long pale yellow sundress draped her slim body. Two women stood at her booth so he stayed back, leaned against a tree, and watched. Pure joy spread across her face as she talked and laughed with her customers.
Her easygoing personality caught the attention of a couple walking by and they, too, stopped at her stand. A couple of minutes later all the women had bracelets on their wrists and contented smiles on their faces as they waved good-bye.
“Hi, handsome.”
Shane turned and Lily wrapped her arms around his neck in playful greeting. “Hi, Lil.” Lily was a waitress at the Crown & Anchor and last year they’d hooked up once.
“You coming or going?” she asked.
He darted a glance in Kagan’s direction while taking a step back until Lily dropped her arms. She was watching them. “Meeting someone, actually.”
“That’s too bad. I was hoping to rope you into joining me at the beach.” She leaned in so her lips brushed his jawline. “I’m wearing my red string bikini.”
He liked bikinis. But he’d rather see one on Kagan. “Sorry.”
“Maybe some other time,” she murmured and sauntered away.
Shane checked his watch: 2:05. He strode over to Kagan “Hey,” he said.
She lifted her head and dropped her pen on the notepad sitting on the rectangular table. “Hey.”
“How’d it go today?”