Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 92938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
My mouth snapped shut, chin tipping. “Yes,” I muttered. “And the way the plants on their clearance rack are treated is disgraceful!” I said, a burst of indignation energizing me momentarily.
He eyed me. “Yeah? So . . . what if we did something about it? What if we started a business on that property? We own the land now. The barn would be the perfect spot to set things up. There’s plenty of room for parking. We could use the money we have to start buying some inventory. You know, it would start small but I bet soon enough—"
“Stay?” I let out a humorless laugh. “Stay? Start a business? Join the firehouse? No, no we can’t stay. I’m glad the guys at the firehouse accepted you back, at least as a gambling and drinking buddy.” I couldn’t help the bitterness that still seeped into my tone. “But we’re pariahs here.”
I clenched my eyes shut. How many years would go by before I stopped cringing at the memory of that flyer?
My every fear and insecurity summed up in two words.
Most unwanted.
“We don’t belong in this town, Easton.” This perfect town where people drank lemonade on their porches, and set apple pies to cool on windowsills while their children played in sprinklers watering lush, green lawns. They didn’t even know the half of it when it came to who we really were. The extent to which we didn’t belong. What would they all say then?
No. Run. Run away. We had to.
But Easton was still smiling. He looked dead tired, hungover, wrinkled, and exorbitantly happy. He tilted his head, his smile growing. “I think you should watch something.”
Movement in my peripheral vision made me turn my head toward the doorway where Betty, Burt, and Cricket had come to stand.
“Before the party, the guys from the firehouse asked if I’d go with them to the town meeting. I didn’t want to but . . . they sort of insisted. I put on a ballcap and hid at the back.” He paused. “It was . . . well, it was interesting to say the least.” My brow dipped as he grinned. “Come with me.”
He took my elbow and led me to the door, Betty, looking practically giddy, looping her arm through mine as we followed the group of them down the stairs to the office. Cricket all but pushed me into the chair behind the desk and pulled up a video. I recognized the same room I’d been in several nights before for the town meeting.
“It’s . . . well . . .” Betty began, leaning forward to press play, but pausing, her brow wrinkling the way it did when she’d lost a word.
“Astonishing,” Burt said.
“No . . . no, not quite.”
“Remarkable.”
Betty’s frown deepened.
“Extraordinary.”
She grinned. “Extraordinary! Yes. Yes, it is. Oh, wait until you see.” And then she pressed play as Travis, appearing sleep-deprived and moving stiffly, took the stage. He looked miserable . . . and scared. I leaned closer, my heart thrumming, barely registering the soft sound of the door clicking shut as I was left alone.
I sat in that chair and watched it all, my emotions swinging wildly between one extreme to the next. At the end, I sat back in the chair, tears streaming down my face as I swallowed back laughter.
Then, fingers shaking, I started the video over, needing to hear him say it again. I’m in love with Haven Torres. Deeply, miserably, completely in love with her.
And what he’d done to back up those words. He’d put everything on the line . . . for us. No one had ever done that. No one.
I stood, flinging the door open. Betty, Burt, Cricket, and Easton were all waiting outside. “Oh my God.” There didn’t seem anything else to say.
“We thought you’d say that,” Betty said, her smile as soft and gentle as her heart.
Oh my God.
“The town’s still talking about it,” Cricket remarked. “I imagine they’ll be talking about it for a long time to come. Most people didn’t go home until the wee hours of the morning. From what we hear, families were reunited, friendships reconciled, consciences cleared, forgiveness and repentance spread far and wide. Pelion is a more beautiful place this morning.” Betty smiled. “Cricket and I were even invited to join the community relations group. It’s been renamed The Bob Smitherman Citizen Outreach Council. Of course, its mission has been drastically . . . oh . . . oh . . .”
“Altered,” Burt said.
“Yes. Yes, it has. Drastically,” she emphasized.
Bob Smitherman . . . the dead cat. I recalled what I had just watched Cricket confess at the meeting. Poor Bob Smitherman. And poor Betty. Poor Cricket. I gave my head a small shake. But all that . . . that was going to have to wait until later. “I . . . I don’t know what to say.”