The Guest Book Read Online Free Page B

she could think of at that moment. Max had merely turned away from her, leaving her fuming as tears tracked down her face.
    Later that afternoon, their dad had announced that there was a second-place prize he’d forgotten to mention, and he and Macy had piled into the car to buy real pastel colored pencils so she could draw a picture in the guest book he’d found her flipping through. Since she was too young to be able to write about their trip in the guest book, he’d suggested she draw apicture that reflected what they’d done that week. Seeing a way to immortalize her precious butterfly shells, Macy had seized on the idea. Riding to the store with her dad, she’d caught his eye in the rearview mirror, seen the kindness and love that radiated from his gaze. And though she was still angry at Max, she’d been happy to have the new colored pencils, thrilled to be able to draw in the guest book, and certain she had the best daddy in the world. Years later, she thought about how winning second prize ultimately changed her life.
    She burrowed back into her cozy nest of blankets, thinking about her mother’s plans and finding herself wishing the trip wasn’t so long away. A getaway to the place she’d once run from might just be the answer her heart was searching for.
    She pulled the photo from the drawer she kept it in. Through all these years, it had occupied that honored spot — the top drawer of her nightstand, reachable at all hours of the day and night. The photo was creased from an unfortunate run-in with a notebook that had been carelessly thrown on top of it years ago, the crease running just to the left of the boy’s ear, cutting the sand dollar he was holding neatly in half. As always, she smoothed the crease with her fingertips as she peered at his face, thinking, as always, about where he might be now, what he might look like. A smile filled her face as she pressed the photo to her heart and reflected on her mother’s announcement. She was going to be near him, possibly even close enough to see him, maybe even to know him.
    She pulled the photo away from her just far enough to be able to see again the image of the six-year-old boy holding hisprized sand dollar, waves crashing in the background as he smiled for the camera. His smile came complete with dimples. He—you could already tell—would grow up to be incredibly handsome.
    She squinted her eyes at the image until it blurred. The boy in the photo was no more. Somewhere out there was the man this boy had become, bearing the same dimples, the same smile, the same brown eyes that had seen every picture she’d ever drawn for him. Just like she’d seen his for her. Somehow she’d find a way to see him again, her past and future meeting on the pages of a guest book she’d never forgotten. She hoped he had not either.

three
    M acy caught the eye of Avis Palmiter, her cohort at work and chief cheerleader, and stifled a grin. During their quarterly staff meetings, they were worse than little girls at church, apt to get tickled over something Hank, their boss at Ward’s Grocery, said and lose themselves in giggles while he shot them ugly looks.
    Macy’s mind wandered as she thought about her friend. Avis made Macy’s life at work bearable. She believed that Macy could do anything and pushed her to do just that. It was Avis who had talked her into painting the store windows and creating the signs that hung around the store now. Not that Hank paid her more for her services. He just counted it toward her hourly wages and expected her to be grateful that he allowed her to “doodle on his time, on his dime,” as healways said. Macy thought about how Avis had called him on it yesterday, coming to her defense, again.
    “Tell you what, Hank,” Avis had said, her wide, red lips screwed into a pose that was half grin, half snarl. Everyone in the store knew not to mess with Avis when she got that look. Macy was glad it had never been aimed in her direction.