Silas waved off her concern. “Off gossiping about the new guy.”
“New guy? Have you hired someone new?” Seasonal help was just that—seasonal—and it didn’t warrant gossip.
Silas gave her a look. “Nah, new guy on the lake.”
Cassidy made a face, hands on her hips. Taking advantage of a warm spring day, she paired her crop top sweatshirt with shorts, both items hanging off her. Since Elijah, she’d lost weight, but buying new clothes wasn’t something she was interested in doing. She also wasn’t as in tune with the latest gossip as she used to be; she and Elijah used to know all the fresh scuttlebutt back when they were regulars. She used to work at the town bar, The Northern, seasonally, so she’d had her finger more on the pulse than anyone.
Used to, used to, used to…
Now, she lived quietly, existing on Elijah’s generous life insurance policy and royalties from his writing. She’d invested wisely, based on his eerily forward-thinking living will and trust. She knew it wasn’t a permanent solution, but it had been enough as she grieved. It had supported her as she tried to put her life back together, as she tried to see beyond today when her tomorrow and forever had left her behind.
“How the hell is it you don’t know who I’m talking about?” Silas asked, incredulous. “He bought the rat trap next to you.”
Cassidy’s eyebrows rose. “Someone bought that place?” She pushed her hair to one side as the wind toyed with it.
He chuckled, equally incredulous. “Sure as hell did.”
Cassidy snickered. “He’d better not come knocking on my door when the lake decides to take over the cabin for good. The next decent rainfall, and he’ll be underwater. Did anyone tell him?”
Silas winked. “You could be a good neighbor and tell him.”
“It’s not my problem if he didn’t do his homework.” She glanced toward the store. “I’m going in. Can you fill the tank?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Thanks, Silas.”
“Not a problem, Sid,” he responded, using the nickname Elijah had used. It made her heart twinge.
Most people called her Cassie if they wanted to shorten her name, but Elijah had preferred Sid. When he was appealing to her, begging, trying to be cute or clever, it was Sidy. He said her full name during sex. He said her full name in screaming arguments.
“You’re so beautiful, Cassidy; I love you, I love you. My god, Cassidy, I love you.”
“You’re insane, Cassidy! It’s absolutely inconceivable to me the thought process you walked through because you knew the outcome would lead to this!”
Any day of the week, any second of the day, she would take either his moans or his anger if she could hear him say her name again.
Silas using that particular nickname threatened to pull her into the past. Or keep her there; this was what she struggled with now. At the age of twenty-eight, she never would have thought she’d be this…shell, that she would know this loss or be going through life without him.
With a disheartened sigh, she pushed the door open and walked into the store.
The Trading Post attempted to theme itself after an old-fashioned trading post, but it had all modern amenities, including Wi-Fi and a U.S. Post Office inside. They even sold lottery tickets. The day she and Elijah found out they were pregnant, they had raced here and bought a lottery ticket. Of course, it hadn’t won, but it was framed and hanging on the wall in the nursery.
Cassidy wandered through the store, picking up the items she needed from her list and adding them to the basket she carried. She gave the brilliantly redheaded cashier, Lonnie, a half-hearted wave, which he returned more enthusiastically, before returning to his cell phone for interim entertainment.
She stopped in front of the milk and beer coolers. There was a new advertisement over the milk section: a baby, a rosy-cheeked brown-eyed little boy holding a miniature milk jar. Cassidy stared.
And just like that, a picture triggered her. She’d already been thinking about Elijah; the melancholy had been hanging around her. She could go days—weeks—without it visiting her, and then out of the blue, she would see something, and it happened again.
Grief.
A reminder of her loss.
Tears.
“Hey, gorgeous, I agree the selection sucks, but it’s not worth crying over.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Ducking her head, she wiped at a tear. “I—”