All I Ever Wanted(108)

She smiled at me again. “I’m starving. Want a chili dog or something?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I said. “See you later.”

No sooner had she left than someone called my name. Aw! Damien and Dave were here, also holding hands. They waved in unison, looking like an ad for Wholesome Alternative Lifestyle. There were Pete and Leila, ever absorbed with each other, two and yet one, like conjoined twins, which wasn’t the most romantic image, but it did seem to work for them. Apparently, the whole Green Mountain Media gang had come together and was heading toward me. We were—oops—they were one of the sponsors of the regatta, and we’d always had fun in the past. The good old days. A pang of nostalgia bounced around my heart. Not for Mark the man…but a little for Mark the boss.

“Hi, guys!” I said, waving.

Just coming past the little ticket booth was Fleur, smoking a cigarette, possibly the last person in our fair state to do so and earning quite a few glares and fake coughs. Karen snatched the cigarette from Fleur’s fingers and ground it out, and I couldn’t help laughing.

And here was Mark. His face brightened at the sight of me. I hadn’t seen him since my grandfather’s funeral, but I’d have to go in soon. Pack up my stuff and get my vacation pay and all that. “Hey, Callie,” he said. “How are you?” He knelt down to pet Bowie, who licked his hand appreciatively.

I smiled back, carefully. “I’m fine. How are you?” The rest of the gang swarmed around.

“Cheerio, mate,” Fleur added.

“We sure miss you,” Leila said. “The place is just—”

“—not the same. Not as fun,” Pete finished.

“And no one else bakes,” Karen muttered. “We really do miss you.”

“So do the clients,” Damien said pointedly. “We’ve lost three since you left.”

“Right, but no worries,” Fleur said. “They were mostly done anyway.” I wondered if she’d been promoted to creative director with my departure. Muriel had that job, more likely. And speaking of the ice princess…

“Where’s Muriel?” I asked.

Silence fell. Awkward silence. Pete and Leila exchanged looks, Fleur raised an eyebrow. Bowie flopped on the ground and offered himself to the first taker.

“Callie, walk with me,” Mark said, taking my arm. “We should talk.” Bowie leaped to his feet—I had him on a leash, so he had no choice—and trotted at my side as Mark steered me past the Lions Club grill.

“Hi, Callie!” Jody Bingham called, standing in line for a burger.

“Hi, Jody!” I called back. “How you doing?”

“Pretty good, thanks,” she answered. We were scheduled to have lunch next week. Noah’s girls.

“Guess what, Callie? I can do a cartwheel!” Hayley McIntyre demonstrated her skill, and I tugged my arm free from Mark’s grip to applaud.

“That was wonderful, honey,” I told her.

“I know it!” she affirmed, then ran off to her family.

“Can we continue?” Mark asked, his voice on the impatient side.

“What’s the deal, Mark?” I asked. “And why do we need to go way over here?”

“I’d like to talk privately.”

We came upon the back lawn of the library, which was closed today. The grass was still green, and a few leaves still clung to the branches of the crabapple trees that enclosed the yard. I used to come here to read after school when I was a kid, wishing I were Anne of Green Gables or Jane Eyre. A stone bench in memory of some long-ago patron overlooked the river, which shushed and gurgled past.

“Have a seat,” Mark said. I obeyed, and Bowie flopped at my feet, curling into a tight ball. The bench was hard and cool, despite the sunshine, and I fidgeted, not sure I wanted to be here.

Mark didn’t sit with me. He stood, hands on his hips, exhaled sharply and looked at the sky.

“Speak, Mark,” I said irritably. “You dragged me here for a reason, after all.”

He looked down at me. “Right. Okay, first of all, Muriel’s gone. So you have to come back to work.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“She and I are done. It wasn’t working out.”

“Wow.” I paused. “She came to Noah’s funeral.”

“Yeah, well, she left just after that.” Mark’s mouth was a straight line, and his shoulders were tight. “The BTR account went with her.”

“I’m not sure what to say, Mark.”

“Say you’ll come back to work. You wanted me to choose, so I chose. I chose you.”

“I didn’t…I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Mark ran a hand through his dark hair, then sat heavily next to me. His shoulders slumped, and he turned to face me. “Callie, you said some things the night Noah died. And I listened, okay?”

“Uh…apparently not, since I quit that night. I won’t be coming back, Mark.”

But then Mark took my hands in his and just stared at them. “Callie, if I could turn back time—”

“As Cher would say,” I couldn’t help interjecting, reclaiming my hands and folding them primly on my lap.

He grinned, and suddenly he seemed more…normal. “Okay, that was funny.” I gave a half nod, as he was right. “But listen, Callie.” His voice lowered, and he gave me the James Dean look. “I screwed up. I didn’t see what I had in you, and I…” He shook his head. “I want you back. At the company, and you know, if you want to give a relationship another shot, that would be…that would be nice. Great, in fact,” he amended hastily. “So. Let’s get you back in the office and see where things go on the, uh, personal front.”