And Then He Kissed Me (11 page)

*  *  *

Later that afternoon, whatever distracting thoughts Audrey had about Kieran vanished as she walked into the showroom after her two o’clock break and saw three teenage boys elbowing one another and laughing.

The click of her heels on the tile slowed, then stalled.

These were White Pine High School kids.

Oh, Lord. She’d told herself that she wasn’t in any danger of seeing former students since she worked during school hours. But of course that wouldn’t account for spring break, or teachers’ conferences, or any of the other days that had students running around White Pine when they were normally in classes.

She didn’t want it to, but her whole body heated with mortification.
They were going to see her.
Maybe they’d even come to see her. The lure of a former teacher strutting around motorcycles might be too good for a bunch of hormonal teenagers to pass up. After all, she was sure the rumor about her fate at the dealership was all over school by now.

Nevertheless, she batted back the creeping embarrassment. She should be proud of the fact that she was seeing students. She’d taught many of them and had cared about all of them. She had nothing to be ashamed of just because her career prospects had changed.

She looked down at the tops of her breasts mounding over the bustier. She tried to ignore two good reasons for being self-conscious staring her in the face.

She squared her shoulders. No sense in avoiding them. No sense in being scared of them, either. They were kids. If they judged her, it was because they were young and silly. When they were her age, they’d understand how life could take turns you didn’t expect, and how one day you were wearing gym shorts and the next day you were wearing chaps.

The boys were gathered around a bright red SuperLow, a motorcycle that reminded Audrey of the movie
Easy Rider
. They were smiling, pointing at different features, and of course pretending to hump the back tire.

Typical.

She strode forward. “Boys,” she said, just as one of them—Braden Acola, if she remembered correctly—pretended to jerk off one of the long handlebars. Their howls of laughter faded as she approached. “These machines aren’t toys. Either you act respectfully around them, or I’ll need to ask you to leave.”

She looked from Braden to Cody Sims to Hunter Haglund. All faces she knew. They stared back at her—or at least at parts of her. Their open-faced, teenage ogling was almost humorous. Almost
.

“Ms. Tanner, you work here now?” This question was from Cody, whose white-blond hair flopped so far forward it was nearly hanging in his eyes.

“I do,” she replied, thinking that they
knew
this already. She gritted her teeth. Was it wrong that she just wanted them out of here? She could be as altruistic about it as she wanted, but deep down she hated this mixing of her past and present.

She lowered her voice in her best I-am-the-teacher tone. “Unless one of you is going to buy a motorcycle today, then you need to stop goofing off and leave.”

The boys didn’t move. “Aren’t you supposed to be helping us?” Braden asked. His round face and thick body reminded Audrey how much she’d had to push him to do anything in gym class. “Aren’t we your customers now?” He smirked at Cody and the two of them burst into laughter.

The third one, Hunter Haglund, stayed stone still. He was a sharp-jawed kid who hadn’t spoken much in gym class. Audrey had remembered thinking he was a good, quiet kid who was sometimes too serious. It was a fact that was evidenced now by his furrowed brow and dark look.

“You’re only customers if you buy something,” Audrey said. “And I’m not sure you can afford anything in here.”

“Hunter can.” Braden smirked. “He’s a customer.”

“Yeah,” Cody added. “Hunter wants a bike.”

Audrey studied Hunter again, this time taking in his crisp shirt, his jeans that probably cost more than she made in a month. It reminded her that the Haglunds lived up by Willa. Hunter’s dad was a…surgeon, maybe? He worked in medicine, anyway, practicing nearer to Minneapolis.

“Then perhaps Hunter should talk to a sales manager while you two wait outside,” she said.

“We could wait with you,” Cody said, his eyes shining with laughter. “Seems like you have a super cool job now. You could tell us about it.” He and Braden cracked up all over again. Audrey inhaled, ready to give them her best I’m-still-the-teacher lecture when Hunter intervened.

“Knock it off,” he said. His eyes were obsidian with seriousness. His friends wiped the smirks off their faces immediately. “We’re leaving.”

Hunter turned his dark gaze to Audrey. She wanted to thank him for his maturity, but instead found that a cold prickle of unease rendered her wordless. This quiet, introverted boy had just helped her, and here she was, muted with something she couldn’t explain. She gave him a small smile instead, the best she could do, and watched as the three boys exited the showroom.

When the door closed shut behind them, she gripped the nearby motorcycle and steeled her resolve. Those boys were the first students to come ogle her, but they wouldn’t be the last. She straightened her posture while mentally recalling her list of all the tricks she knew to get kids to pay attention, to listen, and even to fear her if needed. She’d be darned if, next time, she was anything except ready.

C
HAPTER
SEVEN

T
hat Saturday, Audrey turned her face to the sun as she walked to meet her sister for lunch. Her new wedges—a burnished silver color that glinted in the light—were from Willa, as were the hip-hugging jeans and her designer T-shirt.

Her friend had given them to her, along with a pile of other fashions, claiming she was getting rid of many of the clothes she’d bought when she’d lived in New York. “Early on in New York.” Willa had laughed, her emerald eyes sparkling. “I’ve gained weight since then.”

Audrey had tried to refuse. After all, these were designer clothes—they must have been worth a fortune. But Willa had insisted, and Audrey had finally accepted, admitting she was ready for a wardrobe change.

The clothes were more form-fitting than what she was used to (everything was, compared with yoga pants and track jackets), but the expensive material landed on her curves just right, helping Audrey feel the same boldness she did in her dealership attire without showing all the skin. Audrey had taken time today to apply some makeup as well. Again, not as much as what she wore at the dealership, but even a little gave her a sense of boldness from the inside out. It wasn’t the makeup per se, but the idea that she could change if she wanted to. She wondered if this was what it was like to feel beautiful—an in-your-skin kind of power that had her wondering what this new version of herself was capable of.

She hummed a little as she approached the Paul Bunyan Diner. The awnings on Main Street flapped in the breeze, and the scent of warm soil and new grass was everywhere. Bonnie Lufson slid a wooden asparagus into the window of Loon Call Antiques, its smiling face reminding Audrey that in another two weeks, the White Pine Asparagus Festival would be in full swing. The trees lining the sidewalk would be wrapped in green crepe paper, kids would careen around with their faces painted green and asparagus crowns on their heads, and the local restaurants would begin serving their custom dishes: asparagus pasta, asparagus focaccia, asparagus pizza, asparagus ice cream, and, of course, her favorite, asparagus beer.

Not even the experience of Kieran could dim her love for the Asparagus Festival. She smiled to herself until she spotted Evelyn Beauford a few yards ahead, walking right toward her. The sight of the older woman, her pale blue coat flapping behind her like wings, sent Audrey’s stomach sinking. She still didn’t have a replacement for her role on the Good Shepherd Walk committee, and she was sure her lack of backup meant she was going to have to just suck it up and do it again this year.

As the older woman got closer, Audrey steeled herself for the inevitable. She stood waiting for a wave, a smile—any sign of recognition—to begin the dreaded conversation, but it never came. When Evelyn was just a few feet away, it hit her: She didn’t recognize Audrey.

Whether it was the clothes, the hair, the makeup—or a combination of all three—it didn’t matter. Audrey suppressed a giggle as she turned her back and pretended to be window-shopping at Loon Call Antiques. Evelyn Beauford walked right past her without so much as a glance.

Audrey stood there for a moment until she was sure the older woman wasn’t going to turn back. Then she let out a chuckle and headed for the Paul Bunyan Diner, wondering if anyone else would fail to recognize her, and feeling excited about the prospect.

*  *  *

The cowbell over the door of the Paul Bunyan Diner clunked as Audrey entered. She took note of the giant stuffed asparagus propped up next to the hostess station as she slid into a knotty pine booth and smiled at her sister. “I’m so glad we could meet up!” she said, reaching across the white ceramic coffee cups to take her sibling’s hands.

Casey started to reply, then stopped. Audrey watched the hard lines around her sister’s mouth deepen with shock. Casey pulled her hands back as if she needed them to steady herself.

“What happened to you?” Casey asked. She glanced around the diner as if she thought one of the other customers might have an answer for her—or perhaps the rusty saws or old frying pans on the walls might talk, or the gingham curtains over the windows could offer some enlightenment. Audrey followed her sister’s gaze, thinking how they both might share the same dark brown eyes and hair, but that her sister’s face had been shaped by more cares and worries. It was all too visible in the wrinkles around her sister’s eyes, the stubborn thrust of her jaw, and the strain in her neck. A thousand spa treatments for a thousand years might never ease this look off Casey’s face; it was part of her now.

“You don’t even look like yourself,” Casey whispered, as if trying to keep Audrey’s new look a secret. “Are you all right? I have some workout clothes in the car. You could change into those if you need to.”

Audrey blinked. She’d expected her sister to have some comments about her new look, but she was surprised at how vehemently Casey seemed to think it was a mistake.

“I got these clothes on purpose,” Audrey said, trying to make her voice light. “And I did my makeup like this intentionally, too. I kind of like it. It’s better than the old lip stain, right?”

She smiled at Casey, willing her to remember the cheap gloss they’d bought when they were teenagers, just ahead of the homecoming dance. They hoped the makeup would make them more noticeable, so that at least one of them would get asked to go. The gloss had dyed both their lips a red bright red that they’d loved at the time, thinking it was glamorous. A few weekends ago, however, they’d pulled out pictures from that time, catching sight of their clown-looking lips and laughing so hard that they could hardly breathe.

Audrey wanted Casey to laugh, to make a reference to Bozo, to pretend to squirt water from an imaginary flower in her lapel. Instead, Casey’s eyes roamed from Audrey’s styled hair to the form-fitting T-shirt to the sparkling silver bangles on her wrist. The perpetual V-shaped wrinkle between her eyebrows grew more prominent.

“Why would you do all this?” she asked.

“I’m shaking things up,” Audrey replied, grabbing the menu and pretending to study the breakfast options. “A little change will do me good.”

“If you’re trying to find long-term employment, then I don’t think this is a good—”

“Do yah know what you want today?” the waitress asked, interrupting the conversation.

“Coffee,” Casey answered briskly, “one egg over hard, and rye toast with margarine on the side.”

The waitress jotted it all down, then looked at Audrey. “What can I get for…”

She stopped in mid-sentence, her pen poised. “Audrey Tanner, for gosh sakes, is that you?”

Audrey smiled up at Pauline, who had worked at the diner for years. “Sure is,” she replied, “in the flesh.”

“Well, my goodness. Don’t you look glamorous!”

“Thank you,” she replied with a pointed look at Casey, as if to say
See, other people think I look just fine.

Pauline’s bright blue eyes squinted with happiness. “Really. You look great. I mean, you always did, but you’re just fantastic now.”

Audrey felt her cheeks pink with the compliment. “You’re being too kind.”

“Am not,” Pauline insisted. “Cripes, looking like that, you should throw your hat into the ring for Asparagus Queen this year. It’s always a pretty young thing that wins it.”

Audrey smiled. She’d watched the contest for years now. Women between the ages of twenty-four and forty would line up onstage, talk about how much they loved White Pine and what they’d do for the community as queen, and a panel of locals would pick the winner. The queen got a satin sash, an asparagus bouquet, and a thousand dollars in prize money.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Audrey said, “but I think I’ll forgo any pageant gowns just now. I will take a Paul Bunyan omelet with a glass of orange juice, though.”

Pauline winked at her. “You got it.”