Page 10 of Stolen Harmony

“You staying long?” she asked, ignoring her son's embarrassment. “Because if you need anything—anything at all—you just come by Torrino's Market. We're on Maple Street, right next to the post office.”

“I appreciate it, but?—”

“No buts. That's what neighbors do.” She patted my arm firmly. “Your mother used to shop with us all the time. Always said you had the voice of an angel.”

The compliment hit harder than it should have, mostly because I could hear my mother saying exactly that in Rosa's matter-of-fact tone. “She was biased.”

“Mothers usually are. Doesn't make them wrong.” Rosa wasalready digging through her purse, pulling out a slightly crumpled business card. “Here's my number. You call if you need anything. I mean it.”

I pocketed the card, genuinely touched despite my desire to remain invisible. “Thank you, Mrs. Torrino.”

“Rosa. And don't be a stranger, okay? This town's got enough of those.”

As they walked away, I heard Benny asking his mother if she thought I looked too thin, and her response that everyone looked too thin when they were carrying too much sorrow.

The main street looked smaller than I remembered, but not as desolate as I'd expected.’ Lillian’s Diner was busy with the late lunch crowd, and I could see Lillian herself through the window, still wearing the same stained apron she'd had when I was in high school. She caught sight of me through the glass and raised her hand in a wave that was more curious than welcoming.

“Well, well,” said a voice from behind me. “Look what the tide dragged in.”

I turned to find Jasper Crowley leaning against a lamppost, cigarette dangling from his lips. He was older now, softer around the middle, but he still had the same smirk that had made him the most insufferable kid in our graduating class.

“Jasper,” I said, not bothering to hide my lack of enthusiasm.

“Heard you were making it big in the city. Record deals, all that shit.” His tone suggested he'd heard no such thing. “How's that working out for you?”

“Can't complain.”

“Course not. Too polite.” He took a long drag from his cigarette, studying me like I was a particularly interesting bug. “Funny thing, though. My cousin lives in Brooklyn, says she's never heard of you. Goes to all the indie shows and everything.”

“Brooklyn's a big place.”

“Sure is.” Jasper's grin widened. “So what brings you back to our little slice of paradise? Finally ready to play the hometown hero?”

“Just visiting.”

“For how long?”

“Haven't decided.”

The conversation was attracting attention. I could see people slowing their pace as they walked past, pretending to check their phones while obviously eavesdropping. A woman I didn't recognize—blonde, probably in her thirties—had stopped pretending to window-shop and was openly staring.

“You know,” Jasper continued, oblivious to or enjoying the growing audience, “some folks might say it's about time you came back. Show a little respect for your mother's memory instead of running off to the city like you were too good for the rest of us.”

Heat flashed through my chest, but before I could respond, a new voice cut through the tension.

“Jasper Crowley, did your mother drop you on your head more times than usual as a baby, or are you naturally this stupid?”

I turned to see a woman in her forties approaching, her dark hair streaked with silver and her expression suggesting she was ready to commit violence. She was wearing scrubs and comfortable shoes, and she moved with the no-nonsense confidence of someone used to dealing with difficult people.

“Ah, Christ,” Jasper muttered, suddenly looking less sure of himself. “Hey, Willa.”

“Don't 'Hey, Willa' me, you absolute waste of oxygen.” Willa Chen—I could see her name embroidered on her scrubs—positioned herself between Jasper and me like a human shield. “This boy just lost his mother two years ago, and thefirst thing you do is give him grief about when he came home? What's wrong with you?”

“I was just?—”

“You were just being an asshole, like usual. Why don't you find something useful to do? Maybe go help your wife with those three kids you seem to forget you have every time there's a beer and a bar stool available.”

Jasper's face went red. He flicked his cigarette into the street and walked away without another word, muttering something under his breath that was probably unflattering.