Spinning Forward. Terri DuLong

silver hair contrasted in a pleasing way with the bronze of his tan. Mahogany eyes observed me.

      “Oh, I don’t think so,” I mumbled. Had I ever seen a shade of brown eyes that deep?

      His smile only increased his pleasant looks. “Well, that’s good. Because I’m thinking of placing first dibs on this particular space. And I’ve never accepted competition well.”

      As I was trying to decide if the cockiness in his tone implied humor, he extended his hand.

      “Noah Hale,” he said.

      “Sydney Webster,” I replied, surprising myself by not wanting to release his grip.

      After a moment, he let go, raising both arms to include the space. “So I don’t have to worry about you stealing this from me?”

      At that precise moment, I wasn’t so sure. An idea had begun to form in my head at the same time I experienced that long-ago sensation when I worked in the emergency room—of being in control to make an important decision.

      I ignored his question and asked one of my own. “Why would you want this space?”

      “I’m an artist and returned from Key West last year to look after my mother. My family has lived on the island for five generations. I’m planning to open a gallery.”

      “An artist?” Somehow he struck me more as an outdoors-kind-of-person.

      Noah shifted from one foot to the other. “Do you have something against artists?”

      “Not at all,” I replied, heading toward the door. “As long as they don’t think being a native and an artist gets them superior treatment. See ya,” I tossed over my shoulder, as I tugged on Lilly’s leash and crossed the street.

      “Noah Hale?” Ali repeated, as we finished up dinner.

      I had explained my afternoon encounter with him. “Yeah. Why? Do you know him?”

      “Not personally, but I know of him and Paul kind of hangs out with him when he’s here visiting.”

      “Hmm. Well, he seems a bit arrogant to me. Just his tone of voice and implying that I’d better not even think of renting that space because he wants it.”

      “His family has been here on the island since the eighteen eighties. You know that huge, gorgeous house on the corner of Fourth and F Street? It’s called the Hale-Johnson House. He lives there with his mother.”

      I got up to help Ali clear the table and begin the dishes. “Still lives at home with mom? Is he gay?”

      Ali laughed. “I doubt that very much. In case you failed to notice, he’s pretty damn hot. Very good looking and I’d say Cedar Key’s most eligible bachelor.”

      “He’s never been married?”

      Ali placed dishes into the sudsy water. “I’m not certain, but I heard rumors that he was married years ago. To a French girl. That was when he was painting and teaching in Paris.”

      When I remained silent, Ali said, “So…are you interested?”

      “In Noah Hale? Don’t be ridiculous.”

      Ali looked at me with raised eyebrows. “Actually, I was referring to being interested in the retail space.”

      4

      “It’s for you,” Ali said, passing me the phone.

      Expecting to hear Monica’s voice, (who else would call me?) I was surprised to hear a Southern drawl.

      “Hey, there, sweetie. Ida Mae here. I have your application and I’d like to hire you.”

      “Me?” I replied, stupidly.

      I heard Ida Mae’s laughter come across the line.

      “Sure. You. I think you’d be reliable and dependable. Not like those teenagers who say they want to work and then lounge around. So…tomorrow’s Thanksgiving. That means a very busy weekend. Could you start on Friday? And your days would be Friday, Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday? This way you’ll have two pretty busy days and then two slower ones. How would that be?”

      Be? I never thought I’d be so excited to gain employment as a waitress. We discussed salary, and I was surprised to hear she’d be paying me a little more than minimum wage, plus my tips, of course.

      I clicked to disconnect the phone, grabbed Ali, and proceeded to dance her around the kitchen, both of us giggling and laughing like we used to in college.

      “I take it you got the job?” she teased.

      “Can you believe it?”

      Slowing down to catch her breath, she said, “Of course I can believe it. You have a lot to offer in any position, Syd. Believe in yourself.”

      I felt good. The best I’d felt in months. “Here,” I said, sitting her down at the table. “Let me practice and pour you some sweet tea.”

      Just as I’d placed the glass in front of her, the phone rang again. My confidence evaporated as I prayed it wasn’t Ida Mae changing her mind.

      “Monica,” Ali said, passing the phone to me again.

      “Hey, sweetie,” I said, feeling more positive than I had in ages. “Guess what?”

      “You’re coming back up here?”

      Why couldn’t that girl get it through her head that up there was a dead end for me? “No, I’m not. But…I did get myself a job today. I’ll be a waitress at Cook’s Café downtown. Four days a week.”

      “Oh, God, Mom. Are you serious? Doing waitress work at your age? What about your bad leg veins? How the heck are you going to stand on your feet for hours, carting heavy trays?”

      I have to admit…my daughter certainly had a way of bursting my bubble. “My age? Christ, Monica, I’m hardly ready for a nursing home. I’m still ten years away from Social Security. No, it won’t be easy. But I have to do something for income.” I found myself apologizing to my daughter. For what, I wondered.

      “Well, I didn’t mean to imply you’re over the hill, but…whatever. I just wanted to call and wish you a Happy Thanksgiving a day early. Jen and I are heading out tomorrow morning for the White Mountains. They’ve had snow and the skiing should be good.”

      “You and Jen? Aren’t you spending Thanksgiving with Russ?” My daughter had been dating the Boston attorney for almost a year. He’d written a book and they’d met at a party the publishing company she worked for had given.

      There was a brief silence and then she said, “Russ and I are finished.”

      That was it. No explanation. Nothing.

      “Oh,” I replied, not knowing what else to say.

      “Right. So anyway, have a good day tomorrow. I’ll be back on Sunday, so I’ll touch base with you next week.”

      I hung up the phone, looked at Ali and shook my head. “I don’t know what it is about Monica and me. We got along so well when she was younger. But lately…we’re like oil and water.”

      “Is she giving you a hassle again?”

      “I think it’s safe to say she’s not enthused at all about her mom working as a waitress. Probably ashamed. And I just found out that she and Russ are over. I don’t understand that either. She gets into, what seems like, serious relationships and then before a year has passed, they’re history.”

      “Well, she’s twenty-six and still has plenty of time to find Mr. Right. Girls today stay single much longer than we did.”

      “Hmm, true. She might not be happy for me, but I’m going to take Lilly and go for a nice walk downtown to the beach to celebrate getting back into the work force.”

      “Good