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)
“Chuck says it won’t sell otherwise. Too cluttered to show it off properly.” He leaves cash on the counter. “You wouldn’t happen to know anyone who can give some advice on how to make it more…presentable?”
“I sure do. Jack’s new man.”
His eyebrows rise to his hairline. “He finally got one to stick around, huh?”
He shifts uncomfortably, likely realizing how that sounded. Except our situation is different from what Jack had with his ex. At least, I’ve always told myself it is.
“A good one too. His name is Aaron Edwards, and he moved here from San Jose. Likes to restore houses. Lives in the Martins’ old cottage.”
“What happened to Mrs. Martin? She pass away?”
He looks stricken, probably because she was one of the only people in town who was kind to him. She would slip him hard candies from her pocket whenever their paths crossed. He liked the butterscotch ones best.
“Yeah.”
“Sorry to hear that.” He frowns, and it makes me reach toward him, but then I think better of it and draw my hand away.
“She kept up with you too, you know.”
“Yeah, I know.” He averts his eyes as if embarrassed about the attention. “She sent me a postcard once.”
Huh, I hadn’t known that.
Glancing around to make sure all my customers are taken care of, I step around the counter and walk him to the door. “I can get in touch with Aaron for you.”
“Appreciate that.” He turns to say something, then seems to change his mind.
“Anything else?” I can see it in his eyes. The raw neediness. And not only because of his grandpa and Mrs. Martin. It’s that visceral thing that tethers us together. I step toward him. Maybe he needs my arms around him like I did after the accident.
He stares hard at me before shaking his head. “Nah, it’s okay. Wouldn’t want any rumors to spread.”
And before I can respond, he’s gone.
4
MICAH
I couldn’t bring myself to tell John I brought the divorce papers with me. I don’t want to disappoint him. Or maybe he’ll disappoint me by not batting an eye when he agrees with the joint filing. It doesn’t need to be joint, neither did our separation, but it’s better if we work toward a resolution together.
I don’t know what we’ve been thinking these past few years. Obviously, we’re not the only couple living separate lives but still married. I’ve met plenty in Hollywood. People get busy or try to avoid a painful reality. For me, it’s both. John could’ve taken the matter into his own hands at any time by filing his own paperwork, but he never has.
And maybe I’m secretly grateful because seeing my first love again made me weak in the knees. He’s always had that effect on me. John McCoy will likely be my one and only love, but it’s time to let him go. He sent me on my way eight years ago, and I never got my big break, so now I’m returning, tail between my legs, to clean up the mess I made—and my grandfather’s mess in the process.
Rosie is outside the house when I arrive, searching through boxes of junk she’s carried out to the driveway. She seems as confounded by the process as me. Of course, she doesn’t need to stay or help with any of this, but I can tell she needs to. I can read the shock in her features over his sudden death. If they’d grown as close as I suspect over the years, she needs to work through stuff of her own.
I exit my car and step toward her. “Do you know of a newer resident by the name of Aaron Edwards?”
“No, why?”
“Apparently, he refurbishes houses. I think I’m going to ask for his help.” I glance at the other boxes she’s brought out. “Once the clutter is cleared.”
“That may take another century,” she replies with a sad smile.
I swallow the lump in my throat. “What was he like toward the end?”
“Same as always. Grouchy but generous. He liked to eat well and would tell me to take the extra food home.”
That tracked. Griggs Malone might’ve been unapproachable, but he would give you the shirt off his back if you were in need. He took me in without batting an eye. But there, at least, I also suspected underlying guilt about how his own flesh and blood had treated me.
“The day before I found him…” She motions as if unable to say the word. “He had an accident.”
I stiffen. “What do you mean?”
“He decided not to use his walker to get to the bathroom and fell in the hall.”
“Was he hurt?”
“Not any worse than other times. But he did say he felt a bit dizzy. I told him I’d get him to the car to take him to an ER or call an ambulance, but you know how he was.” She gives me a pointed look. “I checked all his vitals and for any bumps and bruises, and he promised me he’d let me take him if he still felt the same in the morning.”