Page 33 of A Hexcellent Chance to Fall in Love

Until the Store Closes

Pepper

The sun had barely made its appearance when I headed out for the day. The morning air was crisp with the sweet scent from Glazed I needed to refresh and recharge, and also get some sustenance. If it took me all day to find her, I’d do it, but I couldn’t do it without snacks.

The bell rang as I pushed through the door at Glazed this was why I’d skipped breakfast. This moment here was meant to be.

Mrs.Stein sat at the small pink table looking even frailer than she had the last time I saw her. The cardigan she wore hung off her, and she clutched a steaming mug in her hands, staring at something in front of her—but there wasn’t anything else that I could see.

Now that she was in front of me, I wasn’t exactly sure how to start off this conversation.

“Are you okay?” I started with. It seemed the most appropriate, given the situation.

She glanced up, dark circles under her glassy eyes. “I could be better.”

“Want to talk about it?” I gestured to the seat, hoping she’d allow me to stay.

Her gaze slid back and forth like she was deciding if she wanted to engage or not.

“You’re Christina’s friend, right?” More than that, Mrs.Stein and I had been colleagues for years before she couldn’t remember me anymore, but that didn’t mean I didn’t remember her.

Another benefit of this curse of mine, and one I was fully intending on using.

I nodded. “I am.”

“Such a lovely girl.”

“I think so, too.”

Mrs.Stein smiled, then motioned toward the chair opposite her. “She must’ve told you that I’m not doing too well.”

“She mentioned something briefly but didn’t go into detail,” I said as I sat down.

“Well, it’s not looking so good.” She fiddled with her coffee mug, pushing the handle from side to side.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. It didn’t bring me any kind of joy to know this woman was suffering, and perhaps I could do something that could help her.

“Not as sorry as I am.” She used a napkin to pat her eyes. “I don’t think anyone realizes how precious time is until they are told they don’t have much of it left.”

“That’s true.” I broke off a piece of my cronut and ate it slowly, attempting to savor it—and along with it, savor the opening Mrs.Stein had left me. It was fortunate that sometimes it was easier to talk to a complete stranger about things. “What would you do, though, if you had all the time?”

She chuckled in the it’s-not-really-funny way. “So many things.”

“How is Lindsay taking the news?” It was a risk talking about her daughter, and if this were any other time or for any other reason, I wouldn’t have done it. But I also needed to figure out a way to make sure Mrs.Stein believed what I was about to tell her was true.

“She took it as well as can be expected. Which was not well at all.” She likely thought Christina had told me about her daughter—which was fair—so I needed another approach to make her really question how I knew things.

“That makes sense. I’m sure she’s worried what she’ll do without you,” I said.

“Kind of like how Mr.Olsen felt when he lost his father.” It had been my second year at Clover Creek when the biology teacher’s father had a terrible accident that forced him to leave the school mid-year.

He’d been devastated—and completely inconsolable.

He was still young himself, and like all accidents, it was completely unexpected.

Not that losing someone important was ever easy.

If we all spoke to and treated one another like it would be our last interaction, it likely would change so many things.

We wouldn’t let fear control us so much; that was for sure.

“How did you…?” She scrunched her brows. “Christina wasn’t at the school when that happened.”

“She also wasn’t at the school when Mrs.Agarwal brought in that hideous green couch for the teachers’ lounge, or when that teacher’s aide, Roberto, spilled his entire sub sandwich on it, leaving that gross greasy stain—that looked like it could be something else that was even more disgusting.

” It was all the teachers could joke about for the rest of the year, and at the time it was hysterical.

“I don’t understand,” she said, but I had to give her credit for not looking or sounding scared.

This was it. My opportunity to tell someone my secret. Past experience said she could react in a number of different ways, so I was prepared. “What would you say if I told you we knew each other—worked together even—in the past, but you can’t remember me?”

“I think I’d say it sounds ridiculous.” She wasn’t wrong. I was sure that was exactly how it sounded.

“But not impossible.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“And that’s fair. Hell, I wouldn’t believe me either. But how would I know all of this? How would I know, growing up, your family used to call you Maisey—and I know that because your mother came to visit you at school the year before she passed away.” I held my breath, waiting for her reaction.

Mrs.Stein folded her hands softly in front of her. “Maybe it’s the illness talking, but are you some kind of guardian angel?”

I shook my head. So far this was going better than expected. “Nothing like that, no. But I might have something that could help you. If you’re willing to listen.” I chewed on the inside of my cheek. She might not go for it at all, but I at least needed her to hear me out.

“Let me refill my coffee and we can chat,” she said.

“Here, let me get that for you.” I grabbed her mug and headed for the counter, my heart thrumming in my chest. This was my chance.