As we walk outside, I head toward the car, but Fran places her hands on my shoulder blades and steers me toward a dirt trail. “Oh no, Sugar, we’re walking. I can give you my full attention this way. We can talk, and I can point out places.” She drops one hand, and with the other one pulls me closer to her. “Without having to worry about wrecking the car,” she mutters in a joking manner.
I start to ask her how far away the restaurant is, because there’s only trees, mountains, and water as far as I can see. On the other hand, this is too nice to view through a car window, so I don’t really mind.
Our conversation starts out how you typically get to know another person. Favorite this and that. Hobbies. Likes and dislikes. Then I ask what I really want to know.
“Can I ask you why you and Mama aren’t close anymore?”
Fran throws her head back in a surprised laugh. She then turns to smile at me with raised eyebrows. “Wow. Right out the gate, huh?”
“Figured we got a walk ahead of us so…”
“So, let’s make it an awkward one?” Fran’s laughter is easy and light, despite the sadness she hides behind her eyes.
“Or informative. It doesn’t have to be awkward,” I assure her. I really want to know what happened.
“If I told you, trust me, it’d be awkward. That’s a really unpleasant conversation that I’m not quite ready for. I mean, your mom’s had eighteen years to share that story with you, but she hasn’t. Surely you can give me a few good days before we start down the uncomfortable family history conversations.”
“But you will tell me? Before I leave.”
“Is that the only reason you came?” Hurt is evident in her voice, but I won’t lie to her.
“No. But part of it.”
“Fair enough. All right, you give me three weeks of carefree fun, and we do everything I’ve been dreaming about doing. I mean, total girl-bonding time. Then I’ll answer every question you have.”
Three weeks is almost the halfway point, so that’s better than what I was hoping for. I figured she’d make me wait until the end of my stay, so this was a total win for me. I stop walking to extend my hand for us to shake on it. Instead, she wraps her pinky around mine.
“Pinky promise,” she whispers with a smile.
“Pinky promise,” I repeat.
“Now let’s go see what kind of trouble I can get us into.” She takes off in a jog, and I giggle, chasing after her. “Push the limits and live for the minutes, Sugar!”
Push the limits and live for the minutes, I repeat in my head.
* * *
I’ve been here for two weeks, and Aunt Fran is the kind of aunt I’ve always dreamed of having. She’s fun. She’s exciting. And she’s everything my mother is not. Other than their extremely good looks and gentle laugh, I can’t tell they’re related.
I’m having the time of my life. We’ve had late nights spent watching chick flicks and horror movies. We’ve gone hiking and exploring waterfalls and the mountains, canoeing, and swimming. She even convinced me to go night swimming in my underwear, until I’m brave enough to go skinny-dipping. If that time ever comes.We go shopping at the farmers’ market and cook at home every other day. The best part, Fran even lets me drink wine. She’s simply amazing. I can’t imagine how her and Mama were ever close. Not that I don’t think my mom is fun. It’s just… Well, okay, she’s kind of uptight and would never watch a gory movie with me. She’d also have an aneurysm if she knew I was drinking wine. What drove her and Mama apart when they’d been the infamous Fuller Girls? Yeah, they have different personalities, but I can still see glimmers of each of them in the other. They’re both so loving.
Fran has brought me to a bakery she thinks I’ll like. She promised it was worth the early rise to get here before the rush, and upon my first step inside, I can tell she’s right. I’m immediately greeted with the sweet aroma of sugary heaven and fresh ground coffee beans. But what really takes me by surprise, and puts a huge smile on my face, are the paintings decorating the walls. I rush up to one that’s of the waterfall Fran took me to a couple of days ago.
“Hey, Aunt Fran,” I call out to her, not taking my eyes off the painting. “Is this a local artist?”
“Hmm?” she says as she walks up to me. “Oh, the paintings. Yeah, this is the same—”
“As in the bedroom,” I interrupt with excitement. “I recognize the style and color choices. They’re amazing! I want to buy one before I go back home. Where do they sell them?”
“Here and there. Come on, I need a coffee.” I take another lingering look at the painting and then follow my aunt to the counter.
As Aunt Fran orders some extra pastries to take home, I sip my coffee and wander back over to admire the paintings decorating the bakery.
“You like ’em?” a low voice asks me.
I turn around to see a guy in his twenties sitting at a table. The first thing I notice are his broad shoulders and strong forearms. He isn’t bulky but has a slender, muscular frame and messy sandy-brown hair against sun-kissed skin. His tan is definitely from spending time out in the sun, because there’s a hint of paler skin peeking from his shirt sleeve. A faint smile tugs at his semi-full lips, along with a few laugh lines around his eyes. He’s very handsome but too old for me. Not that I’m interested or anything. But if I was, which I’m not, he is definitely attractive. He’s a work of art himself. Oh no. Help. I’ve gone and entered the realm of cliché thoughts. If I keep it up, I’ll be in full-on crush mode. For all I know, he probably already has a partner or is married. And if he is single, then I’m suspicious. Is he a player? A jerk?
But it doesn’t matter. It’s none of my business. And it shouldn’t be. He’s older than me, I’m here temporarily, and… and… Wow, he has nice hair. It’s tussled and looks so soft. He has the darkest brown eyes, and a little facial scruff. The stranger is dressed in a dirty white shirt and jeans. His brows furrow, giving him the cutest frown. This could be because I haven’t answered him, and instead, am just standing here, openly gawking over how handsome he is. He clears his throat and points to the wall, and my eyes follow. I smile at the paintings and then back to him.