Stand By Me: A Sweet Lesbian Romance Read online

  Unlike her last visit, her face was clearly visible, her scarf pulled away from her lips so it hung loosely around her neck.

  With no hat to speak of, her hair went all the way down to the middle of her back, the long red tresses full of waves and curls.

  “I can’t believe it,” I said, getting to my feet. “You’re Cassidy Blake.” Writer. Singer. She’d done it all. I knew she sounded familiar, but I never thought I’d have a celebrity inside my shop let alone one who clearly used to live in the area. “I didn’t know you were from Bakerdale.”

  She passed me a small smile, then ran a hand through her hair, pushing it away from her eyes. “It’s been a long time,”

  she admitted, her voice tighter than usual.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized, composing myself before my fangirling got the better of me. “It just came as a surprise.”

  According to what I’d read about her, she rarely went out in public. If she did, she went incognito, which was exactly what she’d done the week before.

  “I prefer to be treated like a human being whenever possible. Folks aren’t themselves around me unless I’m in hiding.” She lowered her voice even though we were the only ones inside my shop. “It also gives me a break from my manager, which I desperately need.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that. We all need a break sometimes.”

  She nodded in agreement, but her smile from before was no longer there. “I left the box of books on the front counter. I

  hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” I said, taking one last look at my handiwork before walking toward the front of the shop again.

  “I like to rotate books whenever I can. The bears had been on display long enough.”

  She laughed at that, then ran a hand through her long hair.

  “Man, this place hasn’t changed a bit.”

  I looked at her with surprise. “You’ve been here before?” I did my best to remember my customers whenever I could, but I couldn’t place her anywhere in the shop. Considering who she was, it wasn’t something I’d easily forget.

  “It’s been a while,” she said, averting her gaze but not before I noticed the color on her cheeks. “My mom used to bring me here every weekend when I was a kid. I was allowed to get a new book so long as I kept my grades up.”

  “Funny, you’d think she would’ve wanted you to read anyway,” I mused aloud, stepping behind the counter so I could open the box she’d brought with her.

  “She did,” Cassidy said with a nod, “but at least with the good grades, I got to pick the book. Mom was more interested in long prologues and such like that. I was all about the fantasy.”

  “Me too,” I said without a bit of hesitation. “It’s way more fun traveling to another world.” And now I sounded like a complete nerd.

  If she noticed, she didn’t say anything. “Anyway, when I went off to school, the world got busy and…” She shrugged.

  “I ran in and out of here so fast the other day, I didn’t give it a proper look.”

  “It happens to the best of us. Let’s see,” I said, going through the contents of the box. “These are quite old.”

  There was a worried expression on her face. “Does that mean you can’t sell them?”

  “No, I can, but I want to make sure they aren’t something you’d like to keep.”

  “If they were by Piers Anthony or R. A. Salvatore maybe, but I’m not really into that.” She wrinkled her nose, then turned on her heels to look around the store. “That wall over there is new,” she said, walking over to my top picks for the month.

  “Those are some of my favorites,” I said, leaving the historical romances where they were so I could join her. “This one here was really good. It’s actually the fourth in a series but has a critical turning point. The rest of the series is really good. I read most of them in under a week.”

  She took the book off the shelf and turned it over so she could read the back, talking as she did. “I always wanted a gig like this when I was a teen. I can’t tell you how many times I left my resume at some of the big chains. I never got a call back, though.” She put the book back and faced me again.

  “It isn’t as amazing as you’d think,” I said, dropping my gaze before busying myself with a book that was fine right where it was. “I don’t get to read until I’m home for the night.

  Working behind the scenes is a lot different than what we see as a kid. I still love it, but it’s also tough.” Really tough.

  “How did you get the job?” she asked, offering me a small smile when I finally met her eyes. “I tried to get one here before college, but back then it was a family business. Is that not the case now?”

  “It is,” I told her. “I was the owner’s daughter. One of them, anyway.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. I just thought that they retired.”

  “He tried,” I said with a laugh, “but when you’re as passionate about your work as my dad, retirement means taking a few weeks off before going at it again. I finally got him to stay in the back when he got ill, but he never stopped coming to work, not even when the doctors told him to rest.”

  “He lived by doing that he loved,” she said, her voice dipping at the end. “If only we could be so lucky.”

  “What? To come into work in your pajamas and snore loud enough for the customers to hear?” I asked, smiling as I did.

  She laughed. It was a full belly laugh and music to my ears.

  “Man, the image you put in my head is just…” She shook her head, waving me away when I went to say something else that might send her over the edge again. “I remember this one time when we came in around Halloween. He put black paper over all the windows so it was super dark. He scared the crap out of me and my mom by coming up behind us with a wolf mask on.”

  “Oh god, I remember that thing! It got quite scraggly over the years, but he still insisted on wearing it.”

  “I haven’t laughed like this in… well, I don’t know how long. It feels nice. Thank you.”

  “After my dad died, it took me months to feel like I could really laugh again. My sister begged me to close the shop and take a few days off, but I just kept coming, same as him.”

  “That must be hard, working here I mean.”

  “It has its good days. My sister wanted me to sell it, but I can’t let it go.”

  “That’s how I am with the journals you set aside for me. My mom thought it was silly to keep them for so long, but…” She blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually talk like this.”

  “It isn’t something you can put in a song,” I said, offering her a reassuring smile. “Not in the way you need,” I added when she didn’t say anything. “I don’t open up very often. It drives my sister crazy. She has to beg me to say anything, so I get it.”

  She nodded, then took a seat on one of the sofas in the lounge up front, staring at the ceiling as she spoke. “The journals weren’t mine, but they were given to me when a good friend passed away. Leukemia,” she said once she looked at me again. “I guess I thought reading them over and over again would keep her alive.”

  “You remember her,” I said, sitting on the sofa across from her even though I really wanted to touch her hand, to let her know it was okay. “That’s the important part.”

  She nodded in agreement but got quiet after that. She might not have said as much, but I could tell she was trying to find a way to get up and leave without being rude. As much as it thrilled me to have the Cassidy Blake inside my shop, I completely understood why she’d want to go into hiding again.

  Aside from the lyrics in her music and whatever information reporters could easily look up on the internet, she was a very private person. She never did interviews or speaking arrangements, which explained why she dropped off the books after closing. It wasn’t that she worked late, it was because she didn’t want to be seen.

  The possibility of losing those journals was probably what brought her to my shop i
n the first place, and now, she was looking for an escape.

  “You know, I was going to close up for lunch,” I said, meeting her gaze.

  “Oh,” she said with a hint of disappointment in her voice.

  “I’ll just…” Her voice trailed off when I reached for her hand.

  “I was going to ask if you’d like to join me,” I said, my cheeks burning hot under her intense eyes. “It wouldn’t be anything too crazy and you can bundle yourself up same as before, but you really look like you could use someone to talk to. I’m a great listener, and there’s this great spot on the corner. It’ll be my treat.”

  Cassidy looked away from me and wrung her hands in her lap. Was she actually considering it? She dealt with people every single day, but that was usually in a large crowd. Would she have preferred going someplace else?

  “I’m sorry, that was stupid of me,” I said, getting to my feet so I could see her out.

  “No,” she said, the word clipped at the end. “It sounds nice.

  Normal,” she added when I looked at her again. “Besides, if you’re talking about Maggie’s, she has some of the best comfort food around.”

  “Finally, someone after my own heart,” I said, touching her shoulder before letting my hand fall to my side. “My sister hates it, but I can never get enough. Just let me lock up and then we can go.”

  Chapter Five

  Maggie’s was a short five-minute walk from my shop, which was great on days when I couldn’t leave things for very long. Today, however, wasn’t one of those days, and I planned to make the most of it. I’d spent far too much time at the store and rarely let myself sit down for more than a few minutes at a time. It was one of the reasons why Bridget invited me out for drinks and why she constantly pestered me about my lack of a social life. If only she could see me now, walking side by side with Cassidy Blake.

  “My mom and I used to come here all the time,” Cassidy said without looking at me as she paused to get the door.

  “They have the best pancakes.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “The short stack, right?” Three delicious, buttery pancakes made completely from scratch with real Maple syrup. My mouth watered.

  “Their waffles aren’t too shabby, either, but you can never go wrong with the pancakes.”

  I nodded in agreement and checked the time. “We still have thirty minutes until the lunch rush, so maybe they’ll still serve us breakfast.”

  “All I need is a good cup of coffee and I’m good to go,”

  Cassidy said, following the hostess back to a booth by the side window after the hostess gave her a suspicious look. Like before, Cassidy had bundled herself up and hid her face well.

  That said, I wasn’t sure how she planned to eat with the scarf in front of her mouth and her hat practically covering her eyes.

  “Should we place an order to go?” I asked, pausing outside the booth.

  She shook her head, her hazel eyes meeting mine. Normal, I reminded myself, slowly lowering into the booth across from her. She wanted something normal, and coming to Maggie’s on a cold day was as normal as anyone could get.

  Already knowing what I wanted to eat no thanks to her, I set my menu down on the table between us. “I’m getting pancakes, and it’s all your fault,” I said, using the sternest voice I could. My smile gave me away.

  She giggled. “Right, like you weren’t planning on it, anyway.”

  “Actually, I was going to get one of the orange cranberry muffins but the pancakes sound way too good now.” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had breakfast out. Most times when I stopped at Maggie’s, it was for a burger or a wrap. Not breakfast, and certainly not sticky pancakes.

  The books will be fine, I assured myself, looking at my clean hands as I contemplated my earlier decision.

  I’d never messed up a single page inside any of my books and I wasn’t about to start now.

  “Why not get both?” Cassidy asked, returning to what I’d said before. “Eat the short stack here and take the muffin for later.”

  I sat back when the hostess dropped off our coffee. “I like the way you think.”

  Once we placed our order, we fell into easy conversation with one another. Most of it had to do with the store, when my father passed, and why I was the only one working there. In all honesty, it wasn’t any of her business, but just as she needed someone to talk to, I was much of the same. So I talked, possibly more than I had in months, especially to my sister.

  “The bills pile up,” I said, adding some cream and sugar to my coffee. “But it isn’t something I can walk away from.”

  “That’s how I felt about my mother’s house,” she said, adding milk to her own drink, “but just walking in that front door was too much. I was essentially covering the bills so it could sit there as someone else’s over-sized lawn ornament.

  Once I realized how much of a waste it was…” She shrugged.

  “I threw a ton of stuff into storage and am just starting to go through it now.”

  “How long has it been?” I asked, hoping I didn’t overstep.

  “My mother passed away in the summer.”

  “But weren’t you—”

  “On tour?” She forced a smile, then looked into her own coffee. “Yes. We had to cancel a few shows due to my getting sick, but even when we were here to handle her things…”

  “It was still work,” I finished for her.

  “My manager insisted on keeping to my old routine. He said it was healthy, but in the short time I was home, I didn’t get to grieve. I was a machine, going through the motions and feeling nothing at all.”

  “I think that happens to a lot of us,” I said, looking back on my own loss. “I didn’t cry at my Dad’s funeral. I know people expect you to, but to be honest, I was still expecting him to pop up in the shop somewhere. It’s childish, but I just didn’t feel like he was gone.”

  “When did it hit you? The loss?” she asked, looking right at me while balancing her spoon between her hand and the edge of her cup.

  “Not until months later. I was trying to unpack a box that refused to open. I got frustrated and, well, that’s when everything hit.”

  “So then this is normal,” she said, her voice being one I couldn’t read. “I keep thinking if I just get rid of one more box, maybe it’ll help, but it seems like the more I throw out, the more stuff piles up.”

  “It’s a lifetime of things you’re trying to replace. The best way to handle it is one brick at a time.”

  “And how’s that wall coming along for you?”

  I considered her question along with the collection of items I had tucked away in my apartment. “Very slowly.” Slower than I’d like. Granted, with me running the shop, it wasn’t like I’d ever get rid of it all. Anything not store-related, however, had gone to Goodwill or a local thrift store, one piece at a time.

  “I didn’t realize he died,” she said, oblivious to my thoughts. “Your dad. I try to pay attention to the paper when I can, but—”

  “We didn’t publish anything,” I said, staring into my coffee.

  My voice was hoarse and felt terribly small in such a large space. “Only the immediate family knew, and because I’d already started to work the front of the store, the locals didn’t notice.”

  “I would’ve,” she said, offering me a small smile from across the table. “It might not have belonged to me, but that shop gave me a lot of wonderful memories. My mom and I always came there whenever she had off from work, which was rare. She worked two shifts just so we could get by.

  I told her I could skip school and get a job to help her out but she wouldn’t hear any of it. Her long hours and absence at home were what put me through college. But on the weekends? I got to spend as much time with her as I liked, which included a trip to your dad’s shop. Your shop,” she corrected herself.

  “It’s still his,” I said. “Even if he isn’t the one paying the bills, I’ll always think of it as my dad’s store a
nd not my own.”

  Our food came just then, giving us both a small reprieve from the memories that haunted us every single day. The way she spoke about her mother was how I felt about my dad. He’d been gone for years, and not a day went by when I didn’t think of him or my mom. It got easier, of course, but they never left my thoughts for very long.

  The sound of cutlery filled the space between us as we both dug into our food. The buttery pancakes I’d anticipated ever since we walked through the front door barely registered on my tongue. Maybe I remembered them wrong. Maybe they weren’t as good as when I was a kid. Whatever the reason, it seemed as though Cassidy wasn’t doing any better. She took one bite, grimaced, then pushed her plate to the side, calling the waitress over so she could get a refill on her coffee.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked me, tilting her head to one side.

  “I am,” I admitted, staring at my pancakes while pushing another bite around the plate with my fork. The river of syrup I poured for them didn’t help. In fact, it made them worse.

  With my pancakes ruined, I shoved my plate alongside hers, focusing on Cassidy’s slender hands and pink fingernails.

  Embarrassed by my naked nails and their chipped edges, I placed my hands in my lap and turned my attention to the people walking outside.

  When I didn’t say anything, Cassidy cleared her throat and smiled. “People watching?” she asked with a playful lilt in her voice.

  “I feel like it’s all I do these days,” I told her, wincing when my words came out a lot harder than I’d wanted them to. “I’m sorry. That was out of line.”

  “How come?” she asked with a laugh. “You’re frustrated, and you have every right to be. It must be hard working in a shop that is struggling to keep up with the rest of the world.”

  Her words were nothing but kind, her eyes full of concern.

  “How bad is it if you don’t mind my asking?”

  I blew out a long breath and offered her a partial shrug.