Maybe This Time(20)

“It was great,” I said, meaning it. Good thing Jett’s personality didn’t get in the way of his ability to cook. “Jett’s pretty talented.”

She smiled a relieved smile. “I thought it was good too.”

“And your dad? Is he still resisting this?”

“He seems to be coming around. He’s been learning some new things, so no matter what I think this has been good.”

“What do you mean, ‘no matter what’? It’s still the first half of the year. There’s lots of time left for lots of good things to happen.”

“You’re right.” She nodded resolutely. “You’re right.”

I bumped her shoulder with mine. “Of course I’m right.”

Lance turned on some music, like we always did for cleanup. The guests had all cleared out and Micah’s parents swayed between tables, sharing a dance. I averted my gaze. I held up the string of dandelions, circled it into a crown, and handed it to Micah.

She smiled and placed it on her head. “Remember when we used to make these as kids?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I heard Jett saying something about putting them in a soup or salad or something.”

I crinkled my nose. “Dandelions? Really? That might be a little out there for these parts.”

“Yeah, one recipe past normal.” Micah squinted her eyes. “Is that … ?”

I followed her gaze. Kyle in his convertible Mustang rolled into the parking lot. Last month, Kyle and I had gone on exactly one more date that was slightly less awkward than the first one, but not awkward enough for me to write him off completely. There was something there; I just couldn’t figure out what.

Kyle’s bandmates, Bryce, Jodi, and Lincoln, were in the car with him. Jodi sat in the passenger seat, and Bryce and Lincoln were in the back. But there was someone else too. A leg stood straight up from the back seat, in between Bryce and Lincoln. Bizarre.

Kyle slowed down and lifted a hand in a wave. “Sophie! Micah!” he called out.

Micah and I stood and started walking to the parking lot. Lance beat us there, and he was taking a lap around the Mustang when we arrived. I was sure Kyle appreciated it. Lance and Kyle weren’t in the same group at school. Lance was into sports, while Kyle was more artsy.

“Hey, y’all,” Micah said.

“Hi,” Jodi said.

“Who is …” That’s when I realized the leg sticking up from the back seat wasn’t a person at all. It was a mannequin. “What are you doing?”

“Veronica here has been stuck in the window of Everything for at least seventeen years. We thought it was time she saw the town,” Kyle said.

Micah laughed.

“She’s not seeing much of anything with her head on the floorboard,” I said.

“What?” Kyle turned around. “Bryce! Veronica fell, help her.”

Bryce sat Veronica up. I noticed she could use a new wardrobe. I wondered if Mr. O’Neal, the shop owner, would let me dress her.

Lincoln put his arm around Veronica and pointed to the park behind us. “This is the city park,” he told the mannequin. “One day you can come to the annual Mother’s Day Brunch here.”

“Did you even ask her if she wants to be a mother?” Kyle said. I smiled. He was different when we were alone. Was it nerves?

“She may not want to be a mother, but everyone has a mother, Kyle, so she’s welcome,” I said.

Lance laughed. “You’re all a bunch of weirdos.”

Micah patted the door of Kyle’s car. “We have to clean up. Have fun with whatever this is.” She circled her hand at the car and then left with Lance.

I lingered. “Where are you taking her next?” I asked.

“The Stanton Estate … or the Barn,” Jodi said.

“Have fun.” I backed up a few steps.

Kyle gave me his lazy smile. “We will.” He drove away.

The first thing I noticed when I joined the cleanup crew was that all the centerpieces had been claimed and carried away by guests. (Caroline really did know what she was doing.) So I gathered tablecloths and carried them to the van. I opened up the back doors and a short scream of surprise escaped my lips when I saw someone sitting on the floor.

It took my brain two seconds to process that it was Andrew. His computer was open on his lap, but my design journal was in his hands.

My stomach dropped to my feet. “What are you doing?” I asked, throwing the tablecloths on the floor inside and yanking my book away from him. “Did you go through my backpack?”

“What? No, it was just sitting there.”

He hadn’t even untied the cording, but still. “And so you thought that meant you had free access to it?”

“No,” he said, defensive. “I didn’t even open it. What is it?”

“Not yours,” I barked.

But he seemed to know what it was without me having to tell him because he said, “You know, they have these really cool electronic notepads now that you can draw on and take pictures with. They help keep things better contained.”

Did he have to practice to sound so condescending, or did it just come naturally to him? I looked at my book nearly bursting out of its seams and once again felt like a backwoods country girl. Heat crept up my neck. I slid the book into my backpack and zipped it shut. “Technology can’t replace everything. Some things have to be felt—” I stopped myself. Why was I explaining this to him? “What are you even doing in here?” I asked again.