Her sister looked around shiftily. “I am conscious of my environmental impact, Dee. And, broke.”
“Somehow,” Dahlia said, “I don’t think that was your primary motivation for going to this supposed thrift store.”
“You don’t know me.”
“But I do,” she said, feeling a small bubble of excitement in her chest. Ruby was going to lose her mind over this, and Dahlia had been dying to show her.
You could have told her before she came back...
She could have. She hadn’t.
She wasn’t floaty like Ruby. She didn’t light up the room or jingle when she moved. But she knew what sparked Ruby’s interest. And being able to channel Ruby’s brightness made her feel like some of it belonged to her too.
She and Ruby were different. Oil and water different. Night and day different. Optimist and realist-thank-you-very-much different. But they both loved this town, and they loved the history of it, and no matter what changed in their lives, whether they were close or distant, like shifting tides in the ocean, that truth remained.
“I know youwell,” Dahlia continued. “Come here, and I’ll show you something more interesting than my office.”
She walked Ruby the rest of the way past the hall, down the offices that no longer housed anyone, and Dale’s office, to a room at the very end of the hall.
“What is it?” Ruby asked.
“The archive.” She swung the door open to reveal walls of newspaper. “Every paper theGazettehas ever published, in hard form.”
“Noooo,” Ruby said, her eyes getting wide. “Aren’t they all digitized somewhere?”
“Not all of them.”
“Well, I want to do that. As part of my work with the historical society.”
“That would be great, Rubes. Just let me know. Anytime you want to come down and dig around.”
“Always,” Ruby said. “Forever.”
“We better go,” Dahlia said. “I have some freelance stuff to fiddle with before dinner. Though, Marianne is still at The Apothecary,” Dahlia said. “Do you want to go say hi?”
They made their way back down the hall and stepped outside again.
“Yes,” Ruby said. “It’s why I’m here. I couldn’t wait to see you. I figured I would come wander around until dinner. Also, I was falling asleep on my feet.”
“You could’ve just...slept,” Dahlia pointed out.
“You sound like Mom,” Ruby groused.
“Gee, thanks,” Dahlia said.
“No problem.”
Dahlia was about to launch into a monologue on all the ways she was not their mother when Ruby stopped abruptly on the sidewalk and turned, waving. “Hi, Mr. Davis!”
Dahlia followed Ruby’s gaze to the bank across the street. The little bank was housed in red brick like all the other buildings on that block. Quaint on the outside, and on the inside, bearing most of the markers of the original Rochelle Bank, which had been founded by the Rochelle family back in the 1800s. And right out front was Mr. Davis, the owner of the only supermarket in town.
“Hi, Ruby,” he said. “I hope you’re back for good this time!”
People asked Ruby that every time they came to visit, though Dahlia was absolutely certain the news that Ruby was indeed back for good had made its way onto the prayer chain.
A great way to share town news without technically engaging in gossip.
“I am,” Ruby called, then shrugged her shoulders and turned, continuing to walk down the redbrick sidewalk. Her sister tilted her face up toward the sun, and smiled dreamily. And Dahlia could only marvel at the entire interaction. Everyone always seemed delighted to have their day interrupted by Ruby. And really,everyonewasn’t an exaggeration. Everyone remembered her. Everyone... They all liked her.