Page 36 of Traces Of You

“That went great,” Brooke said. “I can’t believe how much I got done not having to stop and come out here to wait on people.”

“I’m glad,” Reenie said.

“Was six too early for you?”

“No,” she said. “I’m used to getting up and starting my day.”

“Why don’t we do it again tomorrow? I’ve got help here Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, so you can have those days off.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Brooke said. “People are seeing you in here and talking, but it’s not as busy. To them, you’re just someone helping me out.”

“Thanks for letting me say my name was Maureen.”

“Honey, you can call yourself Santa for all I care.”

She laughed with Brooke. “I wouldn’t lie. My name is Maureen.”

She’d gone by Reenie her entire childhood. When she moved out on her own, she went by Maureen.

She could have corrected Ford but didn’t.

“I know things have been rough for you,” Brooke said. “They will get better.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said. She stretched her arms over her head. Her shirt sleeve came down and a bandage popped out.

“Blaze saw you last night?”

“I thought you knew,” she said, putting her arms down. She hated anyone to ever see the marks on her body.

Blaze questioned her about her broken arm. The scars were fresh there too. She’d been honest and said it ached now and again, but not horribly.

It’s not as if she was going to the doctor where any of her medical files might pop up.

There was no way she was letting any part of her past be brought into her present. Not right yet.

As much as she wanted this to be a new beginning, she wasn’t holding onto it. It was a start and for her that was good enough.

She’d had a lot of starts in her life that never got finished. Maybe for once this one would.

“I suspected it when he showed up for dinner, but he wouldn’t talk to me about those things.”

“If there isn’t anything else you need, I’ll go home. I need to order a bunch of things. I’ll let you know when they will be delivered.”

“Have a good night, Reenie.”

She left the bakery and got in her car. If it was bright at six this morning, she would have walked down, but she wasn’t dumb enough to do that nor did she want a lecture either.

Ford had already texted her three times today to check on her.

Clay popped his head in twice too, to make sure she was still there.

Someone was watching her at all times and she didn’t know if it was to make sure she stayed or was safe.

No one was going to find her here. And the number of Ridgway eyes on her might be intrusive, but she signed up for it.

Maybe it was nice to have someone care about her. Or worry.