that is.” I tapped my journalist’s notebook.
“Ah,” she said. We locked eyes for a moment and felt the bond of sisterhood between two Christians who had hopes and dreams that seemed to have stalled right over the Bermuda Triangle. Another customer came into her shop, and rather than distract her from people with actual cash to spend, I snapped my notebook shut and headed out.
“I’ll let you know when the article appears,” I said.
“Thank you, Miss Smith.”
“Savvy!” I said, feeling like my own upbeat self again for the first time in a long while.
“Savvy, then.” She laughed. “I’m sure we’ll get on well.” She turned her attention to the two girls who had come into the store looking for ball dresses. I hoped they hated green.
Chapter 21
Night began to fall, and I headed toward Fishcoteque. I texted my mother that I’d be late. She and Louanne had plans for the evening, and my dad was working late, so she didn’t mind that I was going to hang out at the chippie to get some writing done. I had all the Asking for Trouble letters to sort through too, and I needed to choose one for next week’s column.
I pulled open the door and breathed in the familiar steamy, greasy, fishy smell that signaled my London home away from home.
“Hullo, luv. The usual, then?” Jeannie leaned over the counter and gave my cheek a friendly tweak.
“Yes, please.” I withdrew the proper amount from my British flag coin purse and handed it across the counter. She gave me an ice-cold bottle of orange Fanta and a glass of ice.
“Your young man is here,” she whispered.
“Who?”
She pointed to a booth across the room, and I saw who she was pointing to. Rhys.
“He’s not my young man. He’s just a friend.”
“Just as you says.” Jeannie nodded.
I started toward another booth, but Rhys waved me over. I’d really wanted some time by myself, but he grinned and managed to look goofy and friendly and cute all at the same time. I headed in his direction even as Proverbs 31:30 ran through my mind; it’d been a memory verse some years back. “Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last. . . .”
On my way, I passed a booth with my science buddies Gwennie and Jill in it. “Want to join us?” they asked. I could see they had fashion magazines spread out in front of them.
“Maybe later?” I asked, eager to get to Rhys . . . and possibly my own date for the ball.
“Hey, Savvy, I had no idea you’d be here,” he said. But it didn’t sound true. After all, I’d been coming to Fishcoteque for months and had never seen him here before the past week or so. “I’m so glad you introduced me to this place.” It was like he was somehow able to read my mind and disarm my concerns.
Jeannie delivered my fish-and-chips and mushy peas a few minutes later. I noticed that Rhys was eating this time. “She said no pay, no play. Truth be told, the fish is rather good!” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “No big date tonight?” I couldn’t tell if he was fishing himself.
“Need a break from the constant dating whirlwind I’m caught up in,” I joked. “And I’ve got some work to do.”
Just then one of his friends stopped by and they talked for a second. It gave me a chance to look Rhys over at close range without seeming obvious. He was cute, in a dangerous sort of way that I couldn’t identify but was really drawn to. He said nice things to me . . . sometimes. But I couldn’t put my finger on what bugged me. Every time I got close to figuring it out, it was like trying to pin jelly under my thumb.
His friend left and Rhys turned back to me. “No church things to do tonight? Saving the world, converting the masses, smuggling Bibles?” He grinned.
Was he serious? I couldn’t tell. “Not tonight. I’ve already rescued a child from a burning building today. That seemed like enough.” I said nothing more for a minute. “Do you have something against Christians?” I finally
“Ah,” she said. We locked eyes for a moment and felt the bond of sisterhood between two Christians who had hopes and dreams that seemed to have stalled right over the Bermuda Triangle. Another customer came into her shop, and rather than distract her from people with actual cash to spend, I snapped my notebook shut and headed out.
“I’ll let you know when the article appears,” I said.
“Thank you, Miss Smith.”
“Savvy!” I said, feeling like my own upbeat self again for the first time in a long while.
“Savvy, then.” She laughed. “I’m sure we’ll get on well.” She turned her attention to the two girls who had come into the store looking for ball dresses. I hoped they hated green.
Chapter 21
Night began to fall, and I headed toward Fishcoteque. I texted my mother that I’d be late. She and Louanne had plans for the evening, and my dad was working late, so she didn’t mind that I was going to hang out at the chippie to get some writing done. I had all the Asking for Trouble letters to sort through too, and I needed to choose one for next week’s column.
I pulled open the door and breathed in the familiar steamy, greasy, fishy smell that signaled my London home away from home.
“Hullo, luv. The usual, then?” Jeannie leaned over the counter and gave my cheek a friendly tweak.
“Yes, please.” I withdrew the proper amount from my British flag coin purse and handed it across the counter. She gave me an ice-cold bottle of orange Fanta and a glass of ice.
“Your young man is here,” she whispered.
“Who?”
She pointed to a booth across the room, and I saw who she was pointing to. Rhys.
“He’s not my young man. He’s just a friend.”
“Just as you says.” Jeannie nodded.
I started toward another booth, but Rhys waved me over. I’d really wanted some time by myself, but he grinned and managed to look goofy and friendly and cute all at the same time. I headed in his direction even as Proverbs 31:30 ran through my mind; it’d been a memory verse some years back. “Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last. . . .”
On my way, I passed a booth with my science buddies Gwennie and Jill in it. “Want to join us?” they asked. I could see they had fashion magazines spread out in front of them.
“Maybe later?” I asked, eager to get to Rhys . . . and possibly my own date for the ball.
“Hey, Savvy, I had no idea you’d be here,” he said. But it didn’t sound true. After all, I’d been coming to Fishcoteque for months and had never seen him here before the past week or so. “I’m so glad you introduced me to this place.” It was like he was somehow able to read my mind and disarm my concerns.
Jeannie delivered my fish-and-chips and mushy peas a few minutes later. I noticed that Rhys was eating this time. “She said no pay, no play. Truth be told, the fish is rather good!” He wiped his hands on a napkin. “No big date tonight?” I couldn’t tell if he was fishing himself.
“Need a break from the constant dating whirlwind I’m caught up in,” I joked. “And I’ve got some work to do.”
Just then one of his friends stopped by and they talked for a second. It gave me a chance to look Rhys over at close range without seeming obvious. He was cute, in a dangerous sort of way that I couldn’t identify but was really drawn to. He said nice things to me . . . sometimes. But I couldn’t put my finger on what bugged me. Every time I got close to figuring it out, it was like trying to pin jelly under my thumb.
His friend left and Rhys turned back to me. “No church things to do tonight? Saving the world, converting the masses, smuggling Bibles?” He grinned.
Was he serious? I couldn’t tell. “Not tonight. I’ve already rescued a child from a burning building today. That seemed like enough.” I said nothing more for a minute. “Do you have something against Christians?” I finally
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