The Homecoming (Thunder Point #6)(3)

“Maybe you can just swing by Mom’s at the end of your workday for a little something to eat before heading home to the bachelor pad.”

“There’s an idea. In fact, I should swing by there now.... How about a nice arrangement to take along? That always makes her so happy with me.”

Grace turned and pulled a centerpiece out of the cooler. “Do you like this fall arrangement? I can give it to you cheap—I worked it up a couple of days ago and it hasn’t sold yet.”

“I’m all over discounts,” he said, fishing out his wallet. “Have you seen Iris lately?” he asked without looking up.

“I see Iris every week. At least once, usually more. She likes fresh flowers in the house—it’s a hard habit to break. Sometimes she comes in and makes her own arrangement. I can’t tell you how often I wish she worked here—she’s got a gift. That’ll be ten dollars, even.”

“Ten? Wow, you’re sucking up to the law!”

“I hope I never have to use my brownie points,” she said. “Welcome back, Seth. It’s nice to know you’ll be taking care of us.”

“I’ll do my best. Be sure to let me know if I can help in any way. It won’t be flower arranging, I know that.” He gave her his business card with all the numbers on it. Then he gave her a second one. “One for the shop, one for home,” he said, though he secretly hoped that second card might make its way into Iris’s hands.

He wished he could reconnect with Iris. When they were kids, they’d been inseparable, playing kickball, softball, fishing, hanging out on the beach or sitting at one of their houses playing video games for hours. In junior high and high school they had taken different paths—he was on all the sports teams, and she was doing girl things, plus helping her mother in the flower shop. But she’d always been his closest friend even if he didn’t admit that in mixed company. He could tell Iris anything. Anything. If he had trouble in school, frustrations with football, couldn’t get his homework right or even if he liked some girl and she wasn’t liking him back. They talked on their porches, on the phone, anywhere they met around town. If their second-story bedroom windows had faced each other’s, they’d have been hanging out of them, talking.

Then there was some misunderstanding their senior year. Something to do with prom, but he didn’t remember all the details. She’d been angry that he wasn’t taking her to the prom, but he was going steady with someone and was planning to take his girlfriend. He and the steady girlfriend had a blowup, a messy breakup and Seth had been bummed. He had a few beers, and as usual leaned on Iris to talk about his girl problems. It was senior year, he’d had a spectacular year, was going to the University of Oregon on a full football scholarship in the fall and how dare that girl dump him right before senior prom. He could only vaguely remember, but knew he had uttered some lame thing to Iris like, I wish I was taking you, anyway. And then he got back together with the girlfriend the very next day. He thought Iris would be happy for him. He had expected her to understand—it had been a stupid spat and he and his girlfriend were all made up.

But Iris did not understand. He obviously didn’t remember the details the way she did because that was the end of their friendship. There was something mysterious about girls and proms because he couldn’t remember Iris ever being so angry. She’d beat him up a few times when they were little kids but even then she hadn’t been so mad. He apologized about a hundred times, but she was through. She wasn’t going to help him with his homework, listen to him moan and groan about his love life, cheer him on through all his bigheaded accomplishments and then just sit home with her mother on prom night. Over. Done. Find yourself another sap to be your pal.

From that day on, they were only cordial. When he’d been in the car accident at age twenty, she’d sent a card to the hospital. When her mother died, Seth came back to take his mother to the funeral. He also bought the biggest bouquet he could afford. They’d run into each other a few times over the years. They exchanged news, said nice things to each other, then...nothing.

He’d reached out to her. “Iris, are we ever going to be friends again?”

“We are friends,” she had replied.

“I mean real friends. Like we used to be.”

She wouldn’t even consider it. “No. I’m afraid not.”

“Why?”

She’d sighed deeply. “Because you could always count on me and it turned out I couldn’t count on you. I don’t do friendships like that anymore.”

Now he was back. Policing this town was going to be a big job. Mac had told him to be prepared to be on duty all the time whether he was on duty or not. There might be four deputies on the clock in town as well as the whole Sheriff’s Department not all that far away, but as the supervisor he could be called upon whenever a supervisor was needed. Seth understood; he knew that when he’d signed on.

Along with a commitment like that, he had two other impossibly big projects ahead. He had to somehow make amends with his father. And he had to get Iris back. He was going to find a way to show them both he might have been a shiftless, inconsiderate kind of teenager, but he was not that kind of man.

* * *

Iris popped into the diner on Saturday at around one. She was wearing running tights and shoes, a fleece vest and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her thick chestnut hair was pulled into a ponytail and poked through the back of her cap. She sat up at the counter.