Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
I lean toward her. “Like I said before, you taste good enough to eat.” Her blush deepens and I straighten. Wink. “But time and place, Allegra.”
She snorts, but sets her small hand in mine and I help her out. The wind blows and Allegra shivers, hugging her arms around herself. She’d slipped her coat off during the drive. I drape my arm over her shoulders and pull her to my side to keep her warm. She resists at first, but then her body yields and I can’t explain what I feel when she does that.
“Well, I’ll be,” says an old woman’s voice I recognize.
I watch as Mrs. Thurston slides the window wide open.
“Am I seeing a ghost?” she asks, rubbing her eyes. “Is that you, Cassian Trevino?”
I smile wide, so happy to see her. She must be in her eighties now and I’m not sure what I expected when I took that detour. For all I knew, the shop could have been boarded up years ago. It’s been a decade at least since I’ve been here.
“No ghosts, Mrs. Thurston. It’s me, Cassian.”
“Come over here, let me get a look at you,” she says, peering out from inside the window. I extend my hands to hers and she takes them, squeezes, her old eyes searching mine.
“I’m surprised you remembered me,” I say, noting the papery skin on her hands and face.
“I’d never forget those eyes. Where’s Seth? And your daddy?”
I clear my throat, my smile faltering. “Not here, but I brought someone else. This is Allegra. Allegra, this is Mrs. Thurston of Thurston’s frozen custard. Best you’ll have in your life.”
“Well now,” Mrs. Thurston says, letting go of my hands to take Allegra’s. “Nice to see Cassian has a girlfriend. You’ll make pretty babies with her, Cassian,” Mrs. Thurston says, and Allegra’s face goes a deep red.
“Oh, we’re not—” Allegra starts, but is cut off.
“Grandma, what are you doing? It’s freezing out there,” comes a voice from inside the shop which is attached to the Thurston’s modest home.
“Oh, here we go,” Mrs. Thurston says, rolling her eyes. “It’s all right, Libby I’m fine. And we have customers.”
Libby peers around her grandmother to see us, raising her eyebrows. I remember Libby as an awkward teenager. Now she’s grown up and carrying a toddler on one hip. Her surprise is evident when she sees me.
“Cassian?”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Thurston says. “And before you embarrass yourself, no, Seth is not here.”
I chuckle and Allegra smiles. Libby used to have a very obvious crush on Seth.
“Gran, go inside. I’ll take care of them,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “How are you, Cassian? What are you doing out this way?”
“Thought I’d stop by on my way to Atlantic City.”
“Because we’re so on the way.”
“I missed your custard.”
“Let’s remedy that. Two?” she asks, glancing at Allegra.
“Yep.” She sets her little boy down on the counter and I check out his toy truck. He’s Gage’s age, maybe a little younger. “Who’s this?”
“This is Joey. Say hi Joey,” she says, handing the first custard to Allegra. “He’s shy.”
“It’s all right. I have a nephew your age and I think he might have that same truck.”
“Really?” Joey asks.
I nod, take my wallet out to pay when Libby brings the custard. “Your granddad?” I ask.
“He passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” A beat passes. “I’m glad to see your grandmother is still a force.”
“That she is.”
“How’s business?”
“Better in the summer, but we do all right.”
Wind howls and Joey shivers. She grabs him up. “Here, let me pay and you can get inside.”
“It’s on the house.”
“Here,” I say, handing her two hundred-dollar bills. She raises her eyebrows. “It’s nice for some things to stay the same,” I tell her.
“Well, thank you. We appreciate it. Say hi to your family, Cassian.”
I nod and turn back to Allegra who is eating her custard, shivering. I reach into the car to get her coat and slip it over her shoulders.
“You’re right. This is really good custard. Thanks.”
“Let me show you something.” I lead her around the tall, blowing grass to a rickety stair we climb up that leads to a plank down to the deserted beach. The wind is freezing, and I keep her close.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asks.
“I’m fine. Look.” We walk a little farther and she gasps. I look at her, watching her eyes as she takes it in for the first time, this wild, gray-green water, the crashing waves.
“Oh, my God. It’s amazing.”
It is. She looks up at me, the tip of her nose and her cheeks pink from cold. A gust of wind blows, and she turns her face into my chest, shivering. “Come on. We’ll finish these in the car.”
We hurry back to the car. I open the driver’s side door and stand aside.
She looks at it, then up at me, eyebrows high. “I can drive?”