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Lunch came, and because I was still unfamiliar with most of the people—and because Jessica and Lauren were still on duty—I decided to take my food to go and pay a visit to my truck, even though it was still raining. As I walked through the parking lot, I noticed that my truck had been abandoned by most of its neighboring vehicle friends.

"I guess we're not popular," I said to the Chevy.

I climbed into the driver's seat and picked at the random things I had grabbed from the buffet: salad and a banana I'd snatched from a basket. It was okay, but if I continued eating like a bird, I was going to feel woozy. I was going to have to eat out unless I decided to take my chances with Jessica and hoped that I wouldn't catch oral herpes.

As I finished my lunch, the rain began to slow and then stopped altogether. I almost took the opportunity to rush back inside before another downpour started, but I felt too antsy to read. I would go bonkers if I just sat around inside waiting for the movie at seven-thirty (T-minus six hours and seventeen minutes). The sky was still pretty gray, but I figured it might be fun to take a drive. After all, it seemed to be a very scenic town and I could still 'embrace nature' from the safety of my truck and not get eaten by a bear.

I turned my keys in the ignition, praying that my baby had had enough rest from yesterday's trek. I smiled proudly as it grumbled to life, even if it sounded like a grumpy child being woken from a nap.

"That's my girl," I cooed. I put the gear in reverse and backed out slowly, and I had just turned my head before a loud, stomach-turning bang came from behind me.

Well, shit.

I turned off my truck and quickly hopped out, hoping that whatever I had just hit was a sturdy vehicle and that I hadn't knocked off its bumper—or mine, either. At the foot of my truck, there was a light blue Camaro and apparently, I'd backed right into its front right wheel. When a girl with long, dark hair exited the car with a somber grimace, my stomach twisted. Why another chick my age? Couldn't I have backed into some soccer mom or bank investor? I'd take their anger any day over more asinine high school drama.

She walked around to the passenger side, looked at her wheel, and said, "Oh, God, I'm so sorry."

Her words shocked me. She was sorry?

"I saw you backing up and went to reverse, then accidentally put the gear in overdrive. You didn't get whiplash, did you?"

"No, no," I answered quickly, amazed that she hadn't started shrieking at me at a noise level that only dogs could hear. "It wasn't your fault, it's mine. I can't believe I didn't see you. I'm sorry."

The girl smiled a little. "Well, accidents happen, huh?"

I was so relieved that she was being nice that I could have hugged her. She didn't seem to care that I had an old rusted truck, and she sounded genuine. Thank God the Jessica/Lauren bitch duo wasn't a trio.

"Yeah, they do. Let me just pull back in and we'll check your tire." After I drove back into my space, I walked over to her car. There was a medium dent in the car's body, right above the tire.

The girl laughed. "Gives it character, don't you think?"

"I'll pay for it," I offered, feeling horrible.

"Oh, no, don't worry," she said. "It's not worth it. This car is on its last leg. I've been wanting a new one, but I told myself I wouldn't get one until this monster dies. I'm actually kind of disappointed that you didn't hit it a little harder." She smiled again and held out her hand. "I'm Angela."

"Nice to meet you," I replied. It was nice to meet someone around my age who didn't glare daggers at me or emit cryptic vibes. "I'm Bella."

"Oh. Isabella Swan?" she asked.

"Yup, that's me." How did everyone know my name around here?

"Doris has been on about you for a week now," said Angela. "She was like a nesting mother hen. She gets attached to a lot of the guests, and she adored Chief Swan like a son. She probably thinks of you as family."

"She certainly is motherly. You work here?" She was wearing the same white shirt/black pants attire that Jessica and Lauren had been sporting. Only Angela's neckline wasn't plunging open enough to shoot basketballs through.

"I used to. Now I volunteer," she said. "I come a couple of times a week. I'm an ER nurse over at Forks Community Hospital, but I get bored on my days off, so I like to come up here and visit for a few hours."

"That's really nice of you," I said. She must be, considering she was giving up her Friday night to be around Jessica Stanley and Lauren.

Angela shrugged and smiled. "I've gotten attached to it, I guess. Well, I don't mean to hold you up. Have fun wherever you're going, unless you want to stay and help me clean to make up for the dent you put in my car."

"Oh… I could."

"I'm joking," she said, laughing.

I looked up at the sky, which was looking darker by the minute. It was probably better that I didn't try to explore the town without the map Doris had given me, which was somewhere in my bedroom—at least, I thought it was. I'd lost some of my organizational skills somewhere between banging my head and when Edward agreed to hang out with me.

"Actually, I'd be glad to help you out. I'm desperate for something to do."

She was nice enough to not make a comment that I'd rather clean than have free time on my vacation, and I supposed my lonely expression stopped her from telling me no. "Okay. I'd love some help."

I waited for her by the door as she parked and then followed her back inside. The lobby appeared as if a large broom had swept through the lodge and collected all of the guests; no one was around. Then I heard a faint voice echo from the Entertainment Hall, "I-24 ... I-24 ... That's the letter 'I' … with a twenty-four."

"Bingo," Angela said. "Sometimes this place is more like a retirement center."

I chuckled and followed her back through the kitchen door. A tall man with a spotted apron and a kind, ruddy face gave her a wave. "Hey, Ang!"

"Hi, Tom," said Angela. "This is Bella. She's helping me out today."

"Hi, Bella," said Tom, who I figured to be the chef. "Bella, as in Isabella?"

"Yes," I replied with a smile, finally figuring that everyone knew my story by now. "Charlie Swan's daughter. Are you the same Tom who makes the best sweet potato pie Forks has ever tasted?"

Charlie had raved about that damn pie. I'd tried to replicate the recipe, but he always said there was something missing.

Tom gave a hearty laugh. "That's me. Tell your dad that if he comes up to visit soon, I'll bake him a couple to take home to his woman."

Charlie and Renée, reunited. It was still a little strange to think it might stay that way. Angela led me to a storage closet and we each carried a bucket of cleaning supplies out to the café area. I began sweeping the floor behind Angela as she brushed crumbs off the tables with a sponge.

"That's another thing," said Angela with a shy smile. "Volunteering has its perks. I get free food out of it and Tom makes the best Chicken Chesapeake. If you're planning on having dinner here tonight, I'll coax him into making you some if it's not already on the menu. It's to die for."

It dawned on me that there was now someone I could trust to transport my food from the kitchen without adding in a hair. "Thanks," I said. "I've been looking forward to trying something hot for once."

She raised her eyebrows, but I hesitated. For all I knew, she could have been one of Jessica and Lauren's friends, even if their personalities were on opposite sides of the kindness spectrum. "Well," I said, pulling at my sleeve, "I met Jessica and Lauren. And I guess I've been afraid that they wouldn't be too enthusiastic about waiting on me."

Angela rolled her eyes. "Giving you a hard time, are they? Don't worry. They get intimidated by anyone with a pretty face."

My face? Funny girl, Angela was.

"They're attention-seekers," she continued. "We used to be close a few years back. I guess I grew up a bit and they think they're still in high school. I suppose they think whoever owns the most Gucci is the better catch. Who knows?"

"Mm," I said quietly, concentrating on sweeping up every bit of dust and crumbs. Angela was sort of a saving grace, so I didn't want to half-ass any work I was doing.

"So, have you made any friends?" she asked as she cleaned. "Did Doris introduce you to the quilting circle yet?"

"Not yet," I said with a laugh. "Although, I did meet someone. He and I had breakfast together."

"Oh?" she said. "Is he nice?"

"I think so," I said. She glanced up from the table at me, her eyes curious. "He seems to be, but there's something about him that's… different. Kind of mysterious."

"Was it Mr. Miller?" she asked. "He's some kind of genius and always has a look on his face like he's mentally conjuring a new invention. Gray-haired, short, always wears a red tie? Plays chess like Bobby Fischer?"

"No, not him. His name's Edward."

Angela stopped wiping the table. "Edward," she repeated. "Edward Masen?"

I nodded, feeling my heart sink at her surprised expression. If she had a thing for him, too, there went any amiability in our acquaintance. I sighed and leaned on the broom, giving her a contrite glance. "Sorry."

"What for?" she said. "I think it's great."

"Oh... you do?"

"Well, yeah," she said, smiling as she started moving her rag back across the mahogany table. "It's about time that guy talked to someone. You must have made an impression."

"Hardly," I said, thinking of freaking him out in the middle of the night and him watching me spill my breakfast contents on and off the very table that Angela was cleaning. "You know him, then?"

Angela shrugged. "Not very well. We have some small talk when I'm on duty. I guess he talks to me more than the other girls because I don't fawn over him like he's some sort of prize that fell from the sky."

I felt my cheeks grow warm. Was that what I was doing? No. I didn't 'baby deer' over anyone.

Angela suddenly laughed. "No wonder Jessica and Lauren are giving you hell."

"Because I'm transparently interested?" I turned pink as I outed myself.

"Like I said, they're thirsty for attention," she replied. "I don't think they actually even like him. He's attractive, so it's a competition with each other to see whom he responds to the most. Not that he does. I think it's good for them to have a reality check."

Jessica and Lauren were the mainstream 'hot girl' type. It seemed weird that Edward wouldn't give them the time of day, and yet he had gone out of his way to talk to me that morning. Angela made it sound like he barely spoke to anyone. He'd been less than informative with me, but he still was verbose enough. I assumed he only wanted to apologize, as he'd done, but I wondered if he was as curious about me as I was about him.

"If you don't mind me asking, how did he seem? This morning when you ate together?" Angela said, moving over to start wiping the windowsills with a dust cloth.

"How did he seem?" I repeated, wondering what the right answer was for that. "I guess fine. Reserved, but friendly. He honestly carried most of the conversation." I'd forgotten that during parts of our encounter, I was merely staring at him, trying to form full sentences that didn't make me sound like a fawner.

"I'm only asking because—well, if I'm being honest, I'm a little worried about him."

Well, that was interesting. "Why?"

"Most of the time, he looks plain exhausted," she explained, shaking out the cloth. "Also, he seems sad. Sort of miserable. He's kind, though, and very polite. He's a mystery."

So, I wasn't the only one who noticed. "How long has he been here?"

"A little over two weeks, maybe," she said after a pause. "And he's not from around here. Not anywhere close, at least. Forks is one of those towns where everyone knows each other. But I'm glad that he finally has someone to be friends with."

Friends. I wasn't sure if he wanted that or not. After all, he'd said that I should stay away from him. But then, why would he agree to see me again?

"Bella?"

I'd stopped sweeping and was staring into space, remembering his voice as he asked, "Save me a seat?" It was humiliating to stand there and pretend that I wasn't just as bad as Jessica Stanley.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm just nervous."

"About him?"

"I'm supposed to see him tonight," I confided. "I asked him to sit with me for the movie, and he said he would."

Angela raised her eyebrows and a teasing expression crossed her face. "Huh. He must like you."

At her words, I felt a funny flip in my chest. "I think he's just being polite, like you said. He probably feels like he has to since he thinks he made me cut my head open last night."

"He thinks he made you do what?" she said, bemused.

I didn't want to elaborate and spill about Edward's nightmare, so I spun it a different way. "I heard him bump something against his side of the wall and it startled me, and I knocked my head on the night table when I was picking something up."

She grinned. "So, you have rooms next to each other?"

"Yup. We're fourth-floor neighbors. That's how we met... we sort of ran into each other in the hallway." Giving a nervous laugh at her canny expression, I added, "And as for him liking me, I doubt that's true."

Angela resumed cleaning the windows with a small shrug, taking after Doris with her knowing smile. "Whatever you say. But I'm pretty sure he's never gone to movie night before. On the nights I've been here when they show films, I've seen him in the cafe sometimes, but he usually leaves or ends up going upstairs. I've run into him at the diner some nights, too. It's right down the street and sometimes I pick up dinner on my way to work—they have the best turkey clubs in town. Don't tell Tom I said that."

While I pondered that, Angela and I finished cleaning the café. I willingly followed her around to clean the sitting area, vacuum the floors, and dust the furniture, hoping to keep myself busy so I wouldn't think too much about what was coming in now less than four hours. After her cleaning duties were more or less finished, Angela kept me company until Doris called her away for some clerical obligations.

I lost count of the number of times I glanced at the door whenever the little bell jingled as someone came in or went out.

Deciding to direct my attention elsewhere, I browsed the bookshelves until I had an armful of titles. I climbed the four flights to my room (at least I was getting a workout), sat on my bed, and reached for a book. Seven pages in, I learned that the protagonist had a dog named Edward.

Next.

I chose the next book on the stack and leaned back against my pillows to read. It was a book of Robert Frost's poems. Flipping to a random page, I read Spring Pools.

.

These pools that, though in forests, still reflect

The total sky almost without defect,

And like the flowers beside them, chill and shiver,

Will like the flowers beside them soon be gone,

And yet not out by any brook or river,

But up by roots to bring dark foliage on.

The trees that have it in their pent-up buds

To darken nature and be summer woods—

Let them think twice before they use their powers

To blot out and drink up and sweep away

These flowery waters and these watery flowers

From snow that melted only yesterday.

.

Maybe Robert Frost thought trees were greedy drunks.

Stretching my arms out across the bed, I inhaled deeply before releasing my breath. Not surprisingly, I thought about Edward. Angela was right; he was a complete mystery. What had he been doing here for two weeks already? It was unlikely that he, by chance, chose a random forest-filled town to spend a vacation like I did.

Rolling onto my side and curling my arms around a pillow, I pressed my face to its downy fluff and wondered if his nightmare had been a random thing. He wasn't too young to have been a cop or soldier who had a traumatic experience in the field. With the endless crime that went on nowadays, it was definitely a possibility that he had been through something. Maybe he'd had his innocence sucked away like the pools in Frost's poem.

I felt my eyes close as I inhaled the fresh linen scent that the pillowcase was emitting. Had someone changed my sheets? I hadn't even realized that my bed had been remade until right then. God. One boy that I barely knew intrigued me, and here I was acting as though I had the observation of a mole rat. Renée was suddenly in my head, repeating something she'd said when I was dating a T.A. over a year ago. "Bella, don't let a boy take over your life. You'll be a wrinkled, old mess when they're done with you."

Of course, that was back when Renée and Phil had been having their early onset of problems.

Even so, I felt kind of stupid. I wondered if I would be as interested if he wasn't so handsome. Tonight, at least there would be a movie to stare at instead of his face.

Funny, though, how his face was the last thing I imagined before I fell asleep.

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