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Brynn balked. “Have you read everything?”

“Definitely not. But I do read a lot. It makes up for my lack of a true social life.”

“I find you social enough.”

“Really? Mostly I’m just inept when it comes to peopling. Hole in One has helped some in that department. I even smile now. See?” She demonstrated and Brynn laughed.

“Truly impressive. And it’s a really nice smile. Now quit talking. We need to read.” Aster grinned, sincerely this time, because it was clear Brynn was cutting her a break, letting her off the small talk hook, which was not only kind, but insightful.

The next day, she brought a fresh-baked loaf of raisin bread, hoping more than she would care to admit that Brynn would be there on the bench. The gods were smiling.

“Did you bake this?” Brynn stared at the sliced loaf and then Aster.

“I did. Tell me what you think.” She slid a slice down the bench, noticing how brightly Brynn’s eyes shone when she was delighted.

Brynn chewed happily. “I think you’re a food genius, and this just confirms it. Are the other members of your family as good with food? Is it passed down?”

“Just my mom. When the other kids were off playing, I would hang back and be her little kitchen helper. I even got my own apron for Christmas. It was the coolest thing that had happened to me in a while. Where’s your family?” Aster asked, and then realized it might be too personal a question.

Brynn opened her mouth and then closed it. “My dad, well, who knows. He’s not been in my life much. Don’t feel bad.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t feel bad. That kind of thing can leave a hole.”

Brynn turned to her. “You’re right. Thank you for saying that.” Her gaze lingered on Aster’s face like it belonged there. Aster, to her own surprise, didn’t look away. No part of her wanted to. “My mom tries. We haven’t lived in the same city since I was a high school kid, though. We touch base here and there. She’s remarried. Likes to travel.”

“Do you?”

“I want to see as many inches of this world as time will allow.”

“Does time get in the way actively?” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m asking a lot of questions.”

“That’s okay.” Brynn seemed thoughtful. “I guess maybe I let time take over. This is maybe a good reminder.”

The bench reading became a semiregular happening. On days when Brynn was too busy at the clinic, Aster felt the pang of loss reading alone, something she used to embrace daily. Brynn had brightened everything since. Her presence had become something Aster looked forward to. She cherished the snatches of conversation, even if they were never too long, and would take them out later in the day and turn them over again, like a precious stone in her hand.

“Favorite book?” Brynn asked one afternoon.

Aster thought hard. It was chilly out after a storm the night before and they were sitting closer together, a decision neither had really voiced formally. It was nice. “I don’t have one. That’s too much pressure. No.”

“Aster. Book lover that you are?” Brynn turned fully so that the full brunt of her disbelief could land. “C’mon.”

“It feels wrong to single out a favorite. A literary betrayal. I won’t sleep.”

“There’s no such thing.”

“Ask one of the characters that. They’re my imaginary friends.”

Brynn studied her. “That’s actually really sweet.”

“See? Don’t ruin this for me. I’m fragile.”

“Mm-hmm.”

They read on.

Aster’s world had never felt more full, and for the first time in her adult life she was excited for each new day. She prepped her dough each morning with a pep in her step and found herself laughing a lot more with her customers, her coworkers. Life now came with a spark, and it was because a certain someone was becoming more important to her than she ever dared imagine. It felt a lot like lightning dancing.

Chapter Four