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SEVEN

AMOS

I unlocked the front door to Sage’s apartment while juggling a pizza box and a six-pack of their favorite seasonal apple cider. The familiar sounds of laughter from my sibling’s favorite Australian comedy duo podcast, Toni and Ryan, greeted me through the living room speakers.

“Pizza’s here,” I called.

They popped their head around the corner leading to the kitchen. “Smells great. Extra olives?”

“Of course. I’m not a heathen.”

Sage paused the podcast in the middle of swapping puns about what you can say in a library and also in a bedroom, then retrieved a bag of salad from the fridge.

“What kind did you get?” I asked as I set the pizza and drinks on the Formica counter.

I pulled my phone out to shamelessly check if Mickey had responded to my last text.

I’d ripped the bandage off and texted him shortly after we left Special Blend to share a hilarious guy I followed on social media who made questionable recipes from old cookbooks.

Mickey had immediately fallen down the rabbit hole and was texting me his reactions.

Mickey: OMG hollowing out that giant brick of bologna?! This is not going to end well.

“Avocado Ranch. I was feeling the Millennial-Murica vibe.”

I snorted and put my phone face down on the counter. “Ranch goes with everything.”

I’d missed Sage’s sense of humor. We chatted regularly via text and video, but it was different being around them in the flesh.

They’d come to visit me from time to time, but crashing with them for the past month had given us a lot of quality time we hadn’t had since childhood.

Even better was that we now fought less over the bathroom and cleaned up after ourselves.

Though they still ate my food while claiming older sibling rights.

When I’d lost my job and gotten booted from my condo, both my parents and Sage had offered to let me crash with them while I looked for my next job and apartment.

Though my parents’ house was bigger, they’d remodeled my room into a gym, and we got enough time together while I helped out at the diner.

Sage’s apartment wasn’t big, but this was probably the only chance we’d get to spend so much time together as adults.

While Sage prepped the salad, I popped the cap off two ciders.

“How’s Bo doing? You two have a good catch-up?”

“We did, but it was brief. He was double-booked for a meeting.”

Sage chuckled. “That happens regularly. He’s had to rush out of quite a few festival meetings.”

I kept forgetting Sage had more of a relationship with Bo these days than me.

That was weird to think about. As the older sibling, Sage had never really been interested in hanging out with us once they’d hit middle school, but they and Bo had formed an adult friendship through all the involvement with the city.

“When did you take over on the festival planning from Dad? He always loved that stuff.” I hadn’t realized how much had changed while I’d been away, but I didn’t know why I kept being surprised by it. Time passed and things evolved. It was the nature of the world.

“A couple of years ago. He and Mom have been handing more over to me. I guess getting me ready to take over whenever they retire.” Sage’s smile held the eagerness of someone not only sure about their future but eager for it.

“That’s exciting.” I rubbed the heel of my hand against the ache in my sternum. “They talking about when they plan to retire?”

Sage shook their head. “It’s hard to imagine them not wanting to be there, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they have me take over more of the business side of things so they don’t have to worry about that as much.

” They smiled eagerly. “I’ve been talking to them about expanding and trying to sell our pies in some select locations throughout the region. ”

My eyebrows shot up. “How would you handle that?”

“Rent time in another commercial kitchen and hire more staff. It doesn’t need to be baked on the premises to be a Sparky’s maple cream pie.” Sage took a long drink of their cider.

I could see how that would work, but if I had the opportunity to do anything to grow Sparky’s, it would be adding a catering arm. Mom and Dad were often asked to cater events when I still lived in town, and I doubted that had changed in the years since.

It was a good thing I wasn’t inheriting the diner with Sage because we’d likely never agree on what to do with the business.

“I’m sure that’ll be a big hit.” That made me think of the delicious custard tart I’d had at Special Blend recently, which reminded me of who’d approached the table earlier.

“We ran into the chemistry teacher, Mrs. Appaline. She’s got to be retired now, right?

She seemed ancient when we were in school. ”

“Surely, yeah.” Sage slid two slices of pizza loaded with meat and vegetables onto their plate. “How’s she doing?”

“Spending her time reading the gossip blog. She said Mickey and I would end up on it.”

“You and Mickey?” Sage cocked their head.

Shit. I needed to watch what I said around Sage.

I wasn’t sure where they landed with the feud these days.

We’d both been raised to avoid Red’s like the plague, but I probably experienced it differently being in the same grade as Mickey.

There had been constant small reminders to not interact with him—like teachers never putting us together for projects—but I couldn’t completely ignore him in a school our size.

Though Mickey’s brother and Sage had been the same age, Matty had died so young that Sage didn’t have him around through their school years.

But Sage had their own experiences with the feud.

I hadn’t spent my adulthood working in the diner at least forty hours a week where plenty of people talked shit about Red’s or gossiped about the Brewers.

I’d heard it happen plenty in the weeks I’d been home.

The topic never came up when Sage and I caught up during my years in Boston, but now I was curious how they felt. I wasn’t ready to ask though.

In school, Mickey had always intrigued me, but I’d assumed it was more in the vein of forbidden fruit.

He’d always been quiet yet clever when he spoke in class.

Hardworking. Or at least that had been what I’d heard from people hoping to get in Mickey’s group for class projects because he’d always done more than his share.

As an adult, he captivated me. I wanted to know more about him and wanted to discover what other things we agreed on and what topics we could have a playful argument over. I bit back a groan. Fuck. I’ve got a full-blown crush on Mickey Brewer like some damn teenager with heart-eyes .

“He showed up when I was having coffee with Bo, so he invited Mickey to the table to touch base on the Holiday Hoopla.” I left off the fact that we’d stayed around another twenty minutes chatting until we’d gotten spooked by all the less-than-subtle eavesdropping.

Sage nodded without further comment. “Ah, yeah. That could stir up the gossip mill all right. Maplewood Matters is something else. Whenever we put a new item on the menu, it hits the blog. For better or worse.” They grinned.

I paused in scooping salad. “I can’t believe you never told me about this.”

“Bore you with this small-town stuff? Nah. You’ve got way more exciting things happening than hearing about a silly gossip blog run by some anonymous person with too much time on their hands. You live in Boston . So cool.”

Something sour twisted in my gut. Just because I’d left Maplewood and built my life elsewhere didn’t mean I didn’t care where I came from.

Besides, staying in town had never felt like a choice.

I’d grown up knowing Sage would take over the diner, and Mom had encouraged me to get out and explore—damn near pushed me out the door after high school.

Sage walked around to the other side of the kitchen counter and sat on a barstool. Their place was too small for a dining table. There was barely room for the twin-sized air mattress I inflated each night alongside the loveseat, but it was cozy.

After I’d settled on the other stool, Sage passed me their phone. “The blog.”

I’d meant to look it up after Halloween, but I’d gotten distracted by the Mickeyness of everything.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I skimmed the page as I munched on a slice.

There were a series of brief mentions of a dispute between neighbors over property boundaries, speculation about an upcoming city council vote, and a photo of a dog halfway inside a tipped-over trash can. The last entry jumped out.

Roscoe on Sparky’s softball team was spotted eating a burger from Red’s. Will we see him switching jerseys next?

“Wow. There’s a lot on here about the diners.”

“Have you forgotten what it’s like? Remember the candy store that used to be next to Red’s?

We got so much shit from people for daring to venture to the other end of Maple Street when we’d go in there to buy sour candy.

That rivalry keeps us in business. Loyalty sells.

The town loves it, and so do tourists. Dad’s been thinking about making Team Sparky’s merch. ”

“Aren’t you tired of it?”

Sage shrugged. “It’s part of the business. I don’t mind.”

I hummed. The feud felt like it was just part of life growing up and I’d never questioned it, but I’d spent almost half my life away from it at this point, and it was hard to remember what it was like.

“Speaking of business, how are the job applications going?”

It was my turn to shrug. “Fine.”

I hadn’t told Sage or my parents that I hadn’t applied for anything yet.

Before I was laid off in late September, I’d begun realizing that I’d been unhappy for a while, but the more time passed, the clearer it became that I’d been miserable.

I’d regularly worked twelve-hour days because the company refused to properly staff its teams. Impossible workloads and even more impossible expectations.

All for what? Watching my blood pressure rise with my bank account?

No thanks. The work hadn’t even been satisfying.

“That’s what you’ve said the last several times I’ve asked.”

“I’ll keep you posted when there’s movement. Any thoughts on food we should have for the Christmas Eve dinner? Mom’s digging out some old recipes.” Deflect, deflect, deflect .

We ate and chatted about our favorite dishes Mom and Grandpa made. Eventually, we fell into a comfortable silence while finishing our drinks.

“You sure you’re okay working on this Holiday Hoopla? I didn’t realize when I asked you to go to the meeting for me while I was at the dentist that Bo would make such a big ask. I’m used to interacting with Mickey as I need to on festival stuff and don’t mind.”

“No, it’s fine.” I hid a wince at how quickly I’d responded. “You’re plenty busy, and this won’t take us much time. I actually like helping out.”

Sage smiled. “I appreciate it. It’s great having you back, even if you keep eating my good cheese. You’re such a cheese goblin.”

I tossed an olive at them. “Am not! And you’re the jerk who ate the last of my bread! I had to use the heels for a sandwich.”

“The heels. Heaven forbid you had to use bread on a sandwich.” Sage playfully rolled their eyes.

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

Our bickering continued the rest of the evening, and my cheeks hurt from grinning so much. It was great spending time with them, and I’d even managed to stop thinking about Mickey. For a little while.