Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
6
MICAH
I’m standing in the front yard, surrounded by stacks of magazines, notebooks scrawled with lists and reminders, and boxes filled with other junk I need to sift through. I stiffen when I hear a car pull up the long gravel driveway. I’ve already been visited by Chuck, who noted how well we were coming along. He was only being kind, of course. We’ve barely made a dent.
I recognize John’s car, and in the passenger seat is an attractive guy. My stomach tightens briefly, jealousy rearing its head, though I have no right to him anymore. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve brought the divorce papers with me, for Christ’s sake.
And then, it dawns on me as they exit the car and walk toward me.
“You must be Aaron Edwards, Jack’s new guy,” I say to the man extending his hand.
He smiles dreamily as if he enjoys hearing the title. “Nice to meet you, Micah. I’m sorry for your loss.”
I glance at John, who offers a sad smile before his gaze travels the length of the yard and toward the side of the house, where the trellis is located. My skin heats at the memory.
“This is something else,” Aaron says, stepping toward the neglected flowerbeds and overgrown bushes. Add them to the list of things needing tending around here. “I never would’ve known this house was tucked back here.”
“Apparently, you have yet to hear the spooky tale of Old Man Malone.”
“Uh-oh, is it another one of those curses?”
I chuckle as I think of Walter’s souvenir stand. “So you already know about the frogs and the whale crud on the beach, and—”
“Most recently, locusts,” John adds.
My eyes spring to his. “No kidding? I obviously missed that one.”
“I swear it was like the apocalypse.” Aaron shivers as John smirks. “Now, what’s this about your grandfather?”
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” John says. “All small towns have a scary house kids dare each other to drive past.”
“Do they really?” Aaron asks in an amused tone.
“Asks the person raised in a large city.”
The folktale started after I left and my grandfather became a recluse. John always thought that rumor was garbage and hated it being gossiped about in his bar. If I know him like I used to, he sets the townsfolk straight, likely with a smile on his charming face.
“Anyway…” I motion to the brick-and-wood foundation. “The outside of the house is in decent condition.”
“That’s what Uncle Chuck said,” John points out.
“What else did he say?”
Aaron hitches a shoulder. “Outside of what you already know about all the clutter, he mentioned outdated fixtures.”
“I agree. Once the clutter is cleared out, we’ll be able to see what else needs upgrading.” I gesture for them to follow me to the front entrance. “How long have you been restoring houses?”
“Not long, to be honest. I used to flip houses before I started a commercial real estate business with my best friend from college.” He looks off in the distance. “It wasn’t until recently that I’ve gotten back to my roots.”
“Aaron tried to buy the service station from Jack,” John blurts, and Aaron’s cheeks heat as if the mere mention of it is embarrassing. I can only imagine what the story is behind their introduction.
“Hey! In the end, I got my wish—well, Jack’s wish too.”
“Really?” I stop abruptly on the landing. “Jack McCoy is selling the family business?”
That might be more shocking than him having a new boyfriend.
“Yep. To Frank and Aaron’s business partner, Rocco.”
“Rocco, huh?” I say absently, wondering how Jack’s best friend, Frank, got involved in all this. Other than being the mechanic at the service station. “Guess I have missed a lot.”
I feel a small pang because, for all the want of getting out of this small town that was suffocating me, I still miss certain aspects, not to mention the man patiently waiting on the bottom step for me to lead them inside.
I twist the door handle. “So what’s Jack going to do once the sale goes through?”
“Photography,” Aaron responds with such surety that it jogs my memory—that’s right, Jack participates in the annual art fairs.
“Now I remember. That man has talent.”
“He certainly does, and don’t let him tell you otherwise.” He and John share a smirk, and I feel that same longing again about not being in on the private jokes anymore, at least where John is concerned.
I hold the door open for them as they explain that Jack bought the space in town where the butcher shop used to be. I listen absently, feeling a bout of nerves about the state of this house. “Please, ignore the clutter.”
Aaron’s eyes light up as he scans the elaborate crown molding in the foyer. “No worries.”
Aaron’s obvious love for architecture is infectious, and I try to see Grandpa’s house through his eyes. His career sounds interesting too, and I’m still shocked he got Jack to sell. I’m sure his attractiveness and pleasing personality had nothing to do with it.