Then Now Always

Chapter 4

NOW

Daisy

Orange and cotton candy hues take over the sky, painting it in thick brush strokes, almost water-color like. My fingers twitch, but I grip the steering wheel tightly and focus on the road ahead of me.

It's barely a ten-minute drive into town along the winding road flanked by greenery on both sides. It's the same amount of time it takes to cut through the tight array of trees on a bicycle. I wonder if my marshmallow bike is still parked in the metal shed on the western side of the cottage where I left all those years ago, not knowing it would be the last time. Or did my dad get rid of it?

I doubt it. He had to the habit of keeping things around even when he knew they weren't going to be used again. He wasn't a hoarder, but let's just say I'm glad I have the entire summer to get the cottage and his studio in order before leaving for good and never looking back.

Willow Lake holds many happy memories, but it's also the reason my heart will never be entirely full again.

The dashboard of my car lights up with a warning sign which I have no idea what it means.

"Shit," I murmur.

Pulling into the parking lot of the only small grocery store this town has to offer unless they've added another in the last few years I haven't been here, but I doubt it, I cut the engine and sit in the car for a few minutes. This town talks, everyone knows everyone, and no one knows I'm back.

Yet.

As soon as I show my face, the news will spread like wildfire and by tomorrow morning, everyone and their distant relatives will be talking. I don't blame them though, nothing exciting happens here and they all cling on to whatever news they can.

I finally gather the courage to climb out of my white Mercedes—compliments to my fiancé—which stands out like a diamond in an array of dirty rocks.

The door of the grocery store groans in a protest when I push it open. Sunset checkered tiles, rows of neatly stocked produce and color-coded shelves give me a warm welcome.

I recognize Frank immediately as he sits behind the worn laminate counter, tapping buttons on his phone with his index finger like old people do and muttering what I assume is profanities under his breath from the big crease between his brows. He's in his late seventies but looks spectacular for his age.

Frank's head snaps up to see who it is. "Hello, Miss. Just passing through?" he asks in a bored voice.

I'm not surprised he doesn't recognize me. I know more than anyone that I've changed, both physically and internally.

The last time I saw Frank was at my dad's funeral—I barely spoke a sentence the couple of days I was here, overcome by the sudden, overwhelming grief of losing the only parent I had. I bet a lot of people didn't expect be to ever set foot in this town again, after it caused me so much unwarranted heartbreak.

"I'm here for the summer," I say.

Frank's demeanor instantly changes at the sound of my voice. Recognition washes over his features, and he freezes for a moment before quickly recovering. "Is that you, Daisy?" he asks, tugging off his wide rimmed glasses and wiping the lenses on the front of his plaid red and white shirt.

"It's me." I take a few steps toward the counter, allowing the news to sink in.

His eyes flick over me, not in an uncomfortable way, but in a way that acknowledges the physical changes. Different hair—light brown with highlights framing my face. Change of style—gone is the girl who used to wear thrifted sundresses with sneakers, now I wear designer dresses and high heels.