Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Eventually, I’d moved on.
And I have moved on.
Alec Mansfield is never going to make a fool out of me again.
16
Alec
After over two weeks of living in Sapphire Shores, I finally break down.
I drive the ten miles to Shaw’s.
When I lived in Winston-Salem, I had a choice of places to shop. All of them had huge organic food sections, coffee bar, salad bar, a bank, a place to get your dry cleaning. One even had a liquor store inside it, in case you wanted to get loaded while doing your weekly stock-up.
But this supermarket is frozen in time. It hasn’t changed in the eighteen-or-so years since I last set foot in it. It’s full of all the staples—Cheerios, Chef Boyardee, Wonder Bread. There’s nothing new or edgy about it. The carts are old and rusty, the linoleum is scuffed, the refrigerated cases beaten and noisy. There are even actual aproned workers there to check customers out, instead of a bunch of self-service aisles.
I’m standing in the aisle, staring at the Strawberry Fluff and remembering the last time I had that, when someone squeezes behind me, accidentally bumping me with her cart as she grabs a jar of grape jelly.
“Whoopsie! I’m so sorry, honey,” she says kindly, giving my arm a squeeze.
“No problem,” I mutter, moving closer to the shelves when it suddenly hits me. I know that voice.
I turn to look at the older woman. Her hair is shorter and she looks even smaller than I remember, but I’d know her anywhere. She has Stassi’s crystal blue eyes.
“Mrs. Hutton?” I venture.
She looks up, confused, and her mouth drops open. “Alec? Is that you?”
My grin widens. “It is. How are you?”
Her eyes flood with tears and she claps her hands excitedly.
“Oh, my goodness,” she says, her voice but a whisper. She shoves the cart away in her effort to get close to hug me. Despite being barely five feet tall, her hugs are strong and tight and full of love. “It is so wonderful to see you, Alec.”
She holds me for a really long time. I wonder if she’s thinking about my childhood appendix incident. She’d been so calm and collected—the whole family had, making jokes to put me at ease—but later, she’d told me she’d never been so scared in her life. I wasn’t just like a member of their family—I was a member of their family. Mrs. Hutton couldn’t have been more concerned about me if I’d have been one of her own.
“So funny, I was actually just standing here, thinking about your strawberry fluffernutters. You made the best ones,” I tell her.
When I pull away, there are tears streaming down her face. She has to pull off her glasses and dab her eyes with the tissue she always keeps in her pocket. Then she pulls away and holds me at a distance so she can just admire me, as if I’m her beloved artistic creation. I can tell she likes what she sees, because for once, she’s speechless.
Then she seems to backtrack and finally comprehend what I said.
“Oh, my. Yes, you three would eat three, four of them in one sitting. Almost ate me out of house and home. I probably kept this place in business with all the Fluff I bought for you growing boys.” She looks down at the display of it, then back at me, beaming. “I’m just so happy to see you. Cooper said you were in town.”
I nod. “It’s great to see you. I meant to stop by, but—”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ve been so busy. Knowing you, moving in, big doctor, I’m sure you have a lot on your plate. You’re working at the hospital now, Cooper said?”
“That’s right. I’m a hospitalist, in the ER.”
She pats her heart, and the tears spring to her eyes again. My parents were proud when I got my white coat, but I don’t think they were half as emotional as this. “Oh, I knew you would. You made a plan, and you stuck to it. You were always so smart, so driven. You always accomplished whatever you set out to do.”
“Well …” I nod, not sure I should tell her that it helped to have both parents swearing they’d disown me if I did anything else.
“Do you like it? Being a doctor, I mean?”
“Pays the bills,” I say with a shrug. “But yeah, it’s good. Really good. I always liked the part about helping people. How’s Mr. Hutton?”
“He’s great. Happily retired now. He’ll be tickled you asked about him. He had to sell his business in town. Got run out by that Home Depot. Has a little trouble with his heart, but nothing too bad. We can’t complain,” she says, speaking a mile a minute, as is her style. “Your parents are good, too? Still living down south? Are they planning to come on up? Would love to see them sometime. Lots to catch up on.”