Her phone buzzed in her hand. She blinked. “Oh. Yes.” It came out on a whisper, and she glanced at the screen, trying to hide how deeply she was blushing. “I have to take this.” It was a fib. She didn’t recognize the number. Could be spam for all she knew.
“Go ahead.” Luke tucked his hands back into his pockets and strode to the door, opening it and stepping outside without closing it behind him.
She tapped Accept. “Hello?” Irritation swelled in her voice. She had a chance, and she blew it. A chance to say yes. And she blew it.
“Hi, is this Greta Houston?”
A flat voice came across the line, but Greta sensed it was no spam caller.
“Yes, this is she.”
“Hi, Greta, this is Dawn Roberts with Chicago Public Schools.”
Chapter 18—Luke
Once he was outside, Luke’s heartbeat returned to normal, beating steadily in his chest, satisfied that everything went well.
Better than well.
Luke had dang near kissed the girl. He nearly peeled back the layer of decency, lifted her chin to his face, and kissed her. And he didn’t even know her!
Now, he was going to be late for practice. While tapping out a quick text to Mark that he’d be on his way in a few, a new text came in from Liesel.
Well?
He glanced toward the door, but Greta’s back was turned, her hand on the bannister where his had been moments before. His breath hitched as he replied to his aunt.
Went well but no confirmation yet. I think she wants it.
Greta seemed interested. Very interested. But maybe her interest was in something else. He couldn’t tell. But interest was good. It was good. He ran a hand across his mouth and glanced at Liesel’s quick response.
Can you lock her in right now?
His aunt’s urgency caught him off guard. As he was about to reply, Greta appeared at the top of the porch steps.
Her face was darker, more serious. “Something’s come up.”
“Oh. Okay,” Luke replied, confused. “Is everything all right?”
“That was weird.” As she said it, she trotted down the steps and held her hand out, her phone face up. “I just got a call.” A pleading look took over her face as she stated the obvious, but his bewilderment only deepened.
“Are you okay, Greta?”
With her phone still poised expectantly in her hand, she licked her lips, the dark expression turning to something akin to surprise. Not quite shock. But surprise. “I just got a call from Chicago Public Schools.”
“Okay?”
Was that where she worked before? Did something go wrong with her references? Was that why she hadn’t gotten a contract?
“I applied there last week,” Greta explained.
The words knocked the wind out of him. “But you’re here now.” It was all he could muster.
“I know,” she answered. Thoughtfulness replaced her surprise and softened her face, as though this were a decision she was going to have to make.
He simply shrugged and repeated himself. “You’re here now. Right?” She’d been at the in-service with him all day. She worked in her classroom, like every other teacher at H.G.M.S.
“Right,” Greta replied. Then she shook her head and smiled. “Right. I’m here now.”
Fresh air filled his lungs, and he smiled again. “Welp,” he went on, stalling for something else to add.
“Yeah,” she agreed halfheartedly. There was no affirmation in the word. Only doubt.
“What about the house?” He waved his hand up at the place, its peach paint taking on shadows as the sun angled behind it. He glanced at his phone. Mark hadn’t answered. His draft to Liesel sat waiting. The excitement and buzz that had coursed through him petered out now. In its place, lukewarm disappointment.
Greta nodded, frowning. “It’s perfect, really. I’m surprised by how perfect it is.” Then, as though she was brainstorming privately, she went on, her eyes darting around. “It’s just a year. You all might want it back after a year anyway. That would give me time to figure things out. I could save up for something else, what with the low rate. A down payment. Gretchen gets the barn back. It’s not far from school, of course. And Rhett is nearby. And...” She squinted up at him, light glinting in her eyes.
He smiled. “And... you’ve got a great landlord. Is that what you were going to say?”
She smiled back. “Actually, that might be the biggest reason to say yes.”
The rollercoaster launched him again into a thrill ride of emotion. His pulse quickened. Should he make a move? Or should he pin her down on the lease? Luke pushed his hand through his hair and forced himself to play it cool. “Should I have my aunt bring over the paperwork?”
But her answer came like a kick to the face.
“Can I think about it?”
***
“What’s there to think about?” Liesel asked over the phone as Luke drove to the football field. Disappointment didn’t begin to describe how he felt.
“Maybe she doesn’t want to deal with the Inn, too.”
Liesel scoffed. “There’s nothing to deal with. She gets a great house for a low price. Listen, Luke. I talked to Gary.”
His blood turned to ice in his veins.
“Aunt Liesel,” he answered his voice cold.
“Now, just listen, Luke. I want Greta in there as much or more than you. She’s a doll. Fern thinks you two would make a great couple, too.”
He winced and shook his head.
Liesel went on. “But a bird in the hand, Luke. A bird in the hand. Our priority is paying the bills.”
“Oh, come on. You’re afraid, Liesel.”
It was the first time in his life he didn’t address her by Aunt. It was an overstep. A dangerous one. More disrespectful than calling her out for her obvious fear.
“Excuse me?” Each word cut across the line like a dagger.
“You’re afraid. You’re too afraid to hold on to the past to preserve it. You don’t want to see it. You can’t face it. You can’t handle that she died, but you have to. You know as well as I do that we can float the Inn. We can float the house, if need be, too. You’re letting fear drive you. Gary Hart, of all people? Did you know he bought the Houston land some years ago?”
“What are you talking about, Luke?”
“Never mind that.” He shook his head and put his truck in park, facing the football field. Lines of athletes darted along the grass in conditioning drills. Mark stood next to the goal post. Assistants spanned out around the field, their clipboards poised. None of it mattered. Not football. Not even beautiful Greta. Not if his aunt was going to throw away the one thing he’d come to accept as his in the world.
His father’s childhood home. His grandmother’s only house. The business his grandparents had carried on in sturdy old Hart tradition. He might have been moved to sell before. But not now. Not after walking the place with Greta, exploring his own personal history through her awestruck reaction to it all. Even if she didn’t say yes, he could see what the place meant. The potential it had. It just needed TLC. A special touch.
And if Liesel were unwilling to take it on, then he would. With or without his hot-and-cold new co-worker.
“I’ll buy you out,” he said at last.
The line went deadly quiet.
Luke repeated himself. “I said I’ll buy you out.”
“I heard you,” she answered.
“Well?”
He shifted under his seatbelt, pulling the strap tighter even though he was about to get out of the truck.
“Luke, I don’t want to sell to Gary. And I’m not afraid. I just don’t think we can manage it. I’m being practical. And what does the Houston family land have to do with any of this?”
“Nothing,” he muttered, his pulse slowing. He wanted to scream. Why couldn’t Greta commit? Why couldn’t Liesel commit? Why was Luke, this thirty-something football coach, more interested in a small-town bed-and-breakfast than the two wo
men in his life?
Was Greta in his life? He wondered about that and pounded a fist on the steering wheel. No. She made it clear she wasn’t. And besides, they’d only ever met three times. Who was he kidding? She was more interested in Chicago, apparently.
“I’ll buy you out,” he whispered again.
“I don’t know what to do, Luke,” Liesel replied, her voice as low as his.
“You’re not going to sell Mamaw’s house. Or the Inn. Especially not to Gary. He already owns half the town. Mamaw wasn’t his grandmother. And if you’re really set on renting, which I get, I do; well, I don’t know about Greta, but we can figure it out. Okay?”
The sound of whistles bounced off the field and trilled in through his cracked window.
“I gotta go, Aunt Liesel. Practice.”
“Luke,” she said, her voice softer now. “Let me talk to the girls. Maybe we can bring her around.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m getting my hair done today. At Maggie’s. Let me see what I can find out. Okay?”
He thanked her and hung up. But a sinking feeling overcame him. Maybe a charming little grandmother house wasn’t what Greta wanted in life. Images of her black sunglasses and fancy shoes and bag cut across his mind. Maybe what Greta wanted was to be far away from her little hometown. Maybe, if the D.O. dropped the ball on her contract, that’s where she would wind up.
And all he would be left with was a charming little grandmother house and a dated bed-and-breakfast.
Even worse? The one girl who had caught his eye in ages could slip through his fingers.
He jogged up to the field, grabbing Mark by the shoulder.
“What’s up, man?”
“Mark, I need a favor.”
His friend studied him. “Anything. Just name it.”
“Your old lady friend from the D.O. Janine?”
“Janelle. The secretary. And it was one date, Luke.”
“Whatever, listen. The new English teacher, Greta.”
Mark blew his whistle and called for a water break then turned to Luke and crossed his arms. “Oh, you need a fairy godmother. Is that it?”
“No. But the school does.”
“What do you mean?”
“They’re dragging their feet with getting new hire contracts out, apparently. She seems to be courting another district. Up north.”
“But school’s already started. We’ve reported. She has a classroom. Rosters. She can’t just leave.” Scorn filled his face.
Luke shrugged. Mark was right. What kind of a person just quit like that? Was he blinded by... a crush?
Regardless of that, he still cared about keeping a good teacher around, and he didn’t blame her if she was a little anxious about not signing on the dotted line. “Without a contract, she can leave.”
“Then it wasn’t meant to be, bud,” Mark replied, laying into his whistle and barking off a new set of commands.
Chapter 19—Greta
Greta left for home. Or, rather, Maggie’s home. With each passing day, Hickory Grove was feeling more and more like the place she belonged, that was true. Plus, the first day of teaching trainings went better than could be expected. Of course, the innkeeper’s house was simply adorable. And affordable. And the Inn was so modest and low-key that she could totally manage any overnight duties, especially for the price and location. Then there was Luke. Greta had never in her life believed in fast love. She was not one to give into lust. Crushes came and went.
But Luke. Ugh. He was perfect.
It scared her.
What scared her even worse? Starting a job without a sure-fire paycheck. Greta could handle a rowdy class. She could handle subbing. She couldn’t handle no pay. It was the number-one driving force in her life at the present.
Stories like this had circulated amongst some of her colleagues in the past. Horror stories about not receiving a teaching contract until a week or two into the school year. It seemed wild, but school officials were human, too. And in a rural area? It happened. From her acquaintances’ experiences, no one ever ultimately dropped the ball. But certainly, there had to be situations where something fell through. The references were poor, and the district backed out. Or vice versa. But Greta liked the principal and her new co-workers. She was enchanted by her classroom, so familiar it nearly brought her to her knees with nostalgia. The kids would be sweet and scruffy and the perfect mix of work ethic and small-town manners, even when they lacked the wisdom or worldliness of those students who had the luxury of growing up in bigger cities with better access to more resources.
What would her mother say? Find what makes you happy... and do it? How could that apply in Greta’s current situation. It simply didn’t. She’d need faith. More than a mustard seed of the stuff, to follow her heart.
She glanced at the clock on her dash. Gretchen would be at Mally’s by then, for her afternoon shift. Poor thing. Talk about someone unable to follow her heart. She worked like a horse and followed someone else’s dreams. When was Gretchen going to find the guts to tell her mom she didn’t want to be a hairdresser? When it was too late?
Greta stored the conversation for the future, promising herself she’d shake some sense into the girl.
Rhett was the next best person to talk to about Chicago and H.G.M.S. and the Inn. He was just aloof enough to offer her an objective stance. And he wouldn’t let something like a co-worker crush cloud his judgment. He was bigger than that.
***
“Are you crazy, Greta Houston? What in the world has gotten into you? You can’t just leave. You’re at the Middle School now! You made a commitment. To the school. This town. To us!”
Rhett’s rage was blinding. He paced the barn in front of Greta like an angry father.
Taken aback, Greta fumbled over her words, her patience for the situation growing thin. Her patience for herself snapped entirely. “It was just an idea, Rhett. Geez. Calm down. You sound like Dad.”
“Good, because you need someone to smack some sense into you. You’ve got it perfect. You’ve got a job and you’ve got a place to stay.” He waved his hand about the barn space. “And you could have that house on Overlook if you want it. Why would you even entertain the thought of jumping ship and leaving. Who cares if Chicago Public Schools called you? Who cares?” He spat his words like poison.
Greta’s face flushed with heat. “Mom would have told me to do what makes me happy, you know.” Small and quiet were her words as she crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze on her older brother.
“You’re dragging Mom into this?” His face opened in mock surprise. “Okay, I can work with that. You’re saying Mom would want you to be happy. And you’re implying that leaving here after you already started... you think that would make you happy? Or is it a burning desire to live in Chicago? Or what, Greta, is it that running away makes you happy?” He shook his head, as a chill coursed up Greta’s spine. Rhett continued, “Let me tell you something, Greta. You couldn’t see it, because you were too busy chasing perfection, but Mom didn’t leave Hickory Grove because she wanted something better. She didn’t want to go back to Philly because of so-called opportunity. Philly wasn’t her happiness. She went back for her parents. Her family. You and I left, so she did, too.”
His claim stunned her. Their mom was not sentimental. She didn’t attach meaning to things or places. That was a hard truth.
But much like Greta, she attached great meaning to her family. She needed them near. “She was sad we left? But we had to leave, Rhett. For college. And jobs.”
“For opportunities, right?” he agreed. “Greta, whatever you’re searching for—this ‘happiness’ thing... don’t you think you’ve found it?”
She set her jaw, tears stinging the corners of her eyes. This was exactly why she wasn’t sure she could hack it in Hickory Grove. She was under the microscope. Held accountable. Building a perfect life could never be possible when other people were on your back about how you lived your life.
> Or did she have it all wrong?
Had Greta been searching for happiness since her mom died?
Or running from it?
Maggie’s kitchen was something out of Steel Magnolias. Three women were perched in various chairs, sipping sweet tea as Maggie worked on someone’s head at the sink. Greta smiled at the scene.
“Becky, will you take this?” Maggie asked her best friend, handing over a balled-up foil. Becky Linden had returned to Hickory Grove just the fall before. Her son, Theo, was Gretchen’s boyfriend. She’d opened a bookshop in the old schoolhouse near the sold-off Houston property. She wasn’t around much, and even Maggie mainly saw her at the shop, where Maggie pitched in on a regular basis. Greta had learned all this from Gretchen, who had suffered some jealousy from the revived friendship. Things were better now, though, especially since Becky’s free time got sucked up with her own significant other, Zack Durbin, a lawyer in town.
Becky grabbed the wadded aluminum and tossed it in the trash. At the table, Gretchen was cutting new squares and neatly stacking them. Miss Fern sat at the table, shucking corn.
“Mind if I help?” Greta asked, taking a seat near Fern.
“Speak of the devil,” Maggie drawled from the sink, lifting an eyebrow at Greta as she massaged acerbic shampoo into the stranger’s head.
Paling at the accusation, Greta lowered herself slowly into the seat and locked eyes with Gretchen, who offered a sympathetic expression. What had they been talking about and with whom? Greta didn’t mind so much if Maggie and Gretchen had words behind her back. And Fern seemed sweet enough. Becky, she didn’t know. And the stranger, well, Greta began to reconsider her offer.
“Honey, you are the star of this conversation,” Becky said, smiling sweetly.
“What are you all talking about?” Greta asked, flicking another look at Gretchen, who shrugged and resumed her foil-organizing. “And what’s all this corn for?” she added, grabbing a cob and getting to work pulling back the green husk.
“Ladies Auxiliary asked me to coordinate food for this coming Fry-day. It’ll be our biggest yet. The boys have a scrimmage right after. The whole town will be there, and the enemy’s been invited, too.”
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