AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mostly.
I walk into the kitchen, past Britta.
“She’s never going to let you live that down, is she?” she says without taking her eyes off the multiple ebelskiver pans on the stove in front of her.
“Nope.”
“Good to have her back, though, isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
I scrape the dishes and drop them in the sink, then grab the sprayer to rinse them. As the hot water washes over the plates, I try to remember the first time I met Georgia.
I don’t even know. She’s always been a part of my life. There are pictures of us playing together as toddlers. When we went to school, we were in the same classes. And we spent every summer running back and forth between our grandparents’ houses at the Little Copenhagen Resort.
“You don’t have to wash dishes. It’s supposed to be your day off,” Britta says from the grill.
“I know. Good thing I like you.” I finish rinsing the last plate and stick it in the industrial dishwasher.
“That’s because I’m very likable,” she says, straight-faced, her eyes still on the grill.
“Debatable.” I bump her shoulder as I walk by. “Text me if you need any more help. I’ll be around.”
“Will do.” She quickly rolls the pancake balls, sending the hum and aroma of sizzling butter into the air.
That sound and smell is seared into my memory as firmly as the feel of Smuk Lake’s muddy sand. I’ve bussed the tables at Britta’s and eaten here more times than I can count. First when I was a kid and Granny opened this place, using the ebelskiver recipes her mom had given her. Then in the last few years to give my sister a hand as she took over the restaurant when Mom couldn’t run it anymore.
“Ready?” I say to Georgia when I get back to the main seating area.
She nods and leads the way. Everything about being with her again, teasing her, telling her about Carly, sharing our ebelskiver, is as comfortable as the smells of coffee and butter that follow us out the door.
But when we step outside, we’re hit with a blast of cold air that stops Georgia in her tracks. She yanks up the hood of her coat and tucks her chin inside of it.
“How do people live in this?”
“You are such a baby!” With my hand on the small of her back, I hustle her toward Granny Neilsen’s old house. It’s within walking distance since Britta’s is in Little Copenhagen too. “You spent most of your life here. California’s made you soft.”
“Soft? Or smart for getting out of this weather?” She scurries carefully across the snow-dusted parking lot then veers toward my Bronco.
“Where are you going?” I change course and follow her.
“We’re driving!”
“It’s faster to walk.” Not really, but it’s a one-minute drive, which makes it more trouble than it’s worth.
“Unlock the door!” Georgia stands next to my Bronco, shivering and stamping her feet.
“Tell the truth. You just don’t want to walk in those boots.” I unlock the door with my key fob, and Georgia jumps into the front seat without answering. She knows it’s the truth.
She’s got on Western boots, but nothing like anyone in Paradise wears. For one, they’ve got a heel higher and skinnier than anything I’ve ever seen. And two…they’re silver. A shade so bright, Georgia is better suited for going on stage with Dolly Parton than working on a construction site.
By the time I get in the driver’s side, she’s got her arms wrapped around herself and her teeth are chattering. As soon as I start the engine, she turns the heat on full blast, but in the sixty seconds it takes us to drive down the street, the Bronco doesn’t have time to get warm. The film crew is still setting up, though, so we stay in the truck, out of the wind, and watch them unload their van.
“You know,” I say to her. “I knew as soon as you started your design channel you’d end up here.”
“Back in Paradise?” she says, incredulously. “When I left, I swore I’d never come back, so you knew more than I did.”
“No, not necessarily Paradise. Your career, with your own TV show and a million followers on social media. I knew you’d be famous.” I give her a soft bump on the shoulder.
