by Tari Faris
“How much?”
The girl’s eyes widened. “$22.47?”
“What? I didn’t even get my coffee. I thought the eggs were on sale.” Libby hated the slight quiver in her voice.
“The Sweetfarm regular eggs are on sale. These are the farm fresh.” The girl pointed to the words as if Libby needed help reading them.
Poor signage—con.
Libby cast a glance down the line at the three other people who were behind her. Great. She’d just leave the eggs and get them another day.
“Here.” The rich baritone spoke from behind her as Austin leaned forward and handed the clerk a five.
“Wait, what?” But the clerk was already ringing it up.
This guy flipped hot and cold faster than the kitchen faucet. He couldn’t play nice guy, then pull out Mr. Mean Hot Neighbor, and then expect her to accept his nice-guy routine at the drop of a hat.
“I’m not taking your money.”
“You didn’t. She did.” His expression didn’t change. Not even the hint of a smile. Maybe it was still Mr. Mean Hot Neighbor, just with money. Well, she didn’t need his nice-guy act or his money.
“Your change, miss.” The girl held out two dollars and several coins.
“It’s not my change. It’s his change.” Why did she sound so hysterical?
“Just put it in her bag,” Austin said.
The girl dropped the change in one of her bags and started ringing up his stuff. The man was infuriating. She dug into the bottom of her bag to locate the change. By the time she’d found the last penny, Austin was walking past her.
“Have a nice day.” His tone remained dry.
This was so not over.
Austin pulled his keys from his pocket and shuffled them to find the right one as he exited through the automatic door of JJ’s Food Mart. The warmth of the sun heated his back as he left the air-conditioning and aimed toward the company truck.
“I have money,” Libby shouted from behind him. She struggled with her purse as she tried to control her grocery cart with one hand. “I am not destitute.”
“Okay.” He unlocked the passenger side of his truck and popped open the door.
“They don’t take out-of-state checks, and that’s what I have. See?” She stopped her cart next to him, yanked out a checkbook, and pointed to the address.
“I’m glad you have money.” He dropped the bags on the passenger seat, shut the door, and tried to step around her toward the driver’s side.
She blocked his path. “Here is your change.” She dropped two wadded-up bills and some coins in his hands. “I’ll write you a check for the rest. Two dollars and forty-seven cents?”
Austin shoved the change in his pocket. “Forget it. I don’t need a check.”
He tried to step past her again, but she didn’t move. She just scrawled out $2.47 on the check.
“I don’t want that.”
“Too bad, I’m giving it to you.” She ripped off the check and held it out.
“I won’t cash it.” He leaned against the truck.
Her eyes narrowed as her lips pressed together. “Mr. Williams—”
“‘Mr. Williams’? Isn’t that a little formal considering you asked me to take off my shirt in our last conversation?”
“That was a medical issue.” Her face deepened to that same shade of red. “I just don’t want to owe you anything.”
This was all over two and a half dollars? Fine, if she wanted to square things up . . . “Let’s see. I had to cancel my breeding appointment because of your dog. And now I have to redo my entire project because of you. Basically, until I met you, my life was going pretty smooth.” Unless he counted Nate. “But by all means, let’s fight over less than two and a half dollars.” He slid past her cart, walked to the driver’s side, and paused. “I thought you said you’d never had a conversation with my brother.”
He’d promised himself he wouldn’t bring it up, but he had to know. He’d been so sure she was different from Becky.
“I didn’t. I don’t know how he heard of my idea. I’m guessing my roommate Olivia told—”
“Roommate? You said you didn’t have a roommate.”
“I didn’t, but I do now—”
“It doesn’t matter. I have someplace I need to be. If you’ll excuse me.” He pulled open the door.
Her mouth snapped shut as she straightened her shoulders and backed her cart away from his truck. “I’ll bring your money by later.”
He paused with one foot in the truck. “I don’t want the money. I didn’t do it to make you feel indebted or to point out to you again how displeased I am with you and your dog. And it had nothing to do with all of your half-truths that you can’t seem to keep straight—”
“I told you, I didn’t—”
He held up his hand. “You needed a few bucks. I had it. End of story.” He slid into his truck and backed out of the spot, but as he glanced in his rearview mirror on his way out of the lot, she still hadn’t moved.
Austin turned north on the highway, flipped on the radio, and tried to prepare himself to see his dad and Nate. He hated putting his faith in Nate, but part of him believed his brother might keep his word and be there today. And if Nate arrived when he said, that would leave Austin about fifteen minutes to talk about the square and the business with his dad. But that would only work if it was his dad looking back at him and not someone who didn’t know him.
Thirty minutes later, Austin offered two quick knocks before he pulled open the door to his dad’s room. His father’s eyes were fixed on the forty-eight-inch flat screen. Yankees versus the Tigers.
Austin dropped the bags on the counter in the kitchenette. “Who’s winning?”
“The bad guys.” His father muted the television as a commercial came on. He never had cared for the Yankees.
When his father looked up, Austin held his breath.
The older version of his own face crinkled into a smile. “Austin. Good to see you. What brings you by?”
Austin released his breath and started unloading the groceries into the cupboard. “I brought you some of your favorites. Can’t just live on the cafeteria food.”
“Thank goodness. Any licorice in there?”
Austin sat in the recliner next to his father’s chair and tore off a piece of licorice before passing it over. “I wouldn’t forget.”
His dad smiled and looked back at the game.
“How are you doing, Dad?”
He held up his foot. “Got my cast off.”
“That has to feel good. Starting to feel settled here?”
His dad shrugged, then winked at him. “Surviving another day. But I’m not sure if that’s good or bad.”
Austin’s heart pinched. He knew his father didn’t long for death, but the past ten years had been hard. Their mom’s death, Nate’s foolish choices, the struggling business, and now a rapid descent into early-onset Alzheimer’s. Sixty-six was too young.
He knew heaven would mean healing for his dad, but Austin wasn’t ready to let go yet. He needed his dad.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and patted his dad’s shoulder. “You have to stick around a lot longer. You’re the brains of this business.”
His dad shook his head, bit off a piece of licorice, and reached for the remote. “It’s your business now.”
“Right.” Austin leaned back. This was it. His father seemed lucid, and if ever he’d get him to agree to the ridiculousness of this job, now was the time. “Speaking of the business, there has been a new development with the Heritage job.”
His father’s hand stilled, but he didn’t take his eyes off the TV.
“I know you’d hoped that this would be a big account for us. I even rented a house there, but I wonder if their expectations aren’t a bit too high. It might be best to cut our losses now and try to get—”
“No.” His father pinned him with a hard stare, his gray eyebrows forming a deep V. “I agreed to this. The company needs
to abide by—”
“But they’ve decided they want to move a building there now. Not only does that mean a complete redesign of what I have, but it’s also a longer time frame. I won’t be able to take on any other accounts this season.” Austin tried to keep the edge from his voice, but it didn’t work.
“Why aren’t you staying with Nate for this job? I know you think I was upset about moving in here. I don’t love getting old, but I could see the need for it.” He bit the nail of his thumb as a vague look crossed his face, but before Austin could ask about it, his dad stared him down again. “I was upset because you’re renting a house. Your brother lives there.”
That was the heart of the matter. It wasn’t about the job at all. Everything was always about Nate. “Do you think the two of us living under the same roof would be a good idea?”
His father’s hand came down on the table with a thud. “Yes. Why do you think I—”
“Agreed to the job? I’ve been wondering that very same thing.” Austin clenched his jaw before drawing a calming breath. “If you think Nate and I are going to become the best of friends just because we share a roof or work on a project together, you’re going to be disappointed.”
Where was Nate? He should have been here by now. Austin checked his phone. Nothing.
His dad picked up the framed family photo and ran his gnarled fingers over the glass. “You two were best friends once.”
“We were kids.” He slid his phone back into his pocket.
His father’s mouth turned down as he set the photo back on the table. “From where I sit, it wasn’t that long ago.”
“I don’t think I can do this, Dad.”
“It’s your business. It’s your life.” His dad stared off for a minute before looking back at Austin, his eyes heavier. “Just don’t leave opportunities on the table. Brothers aren’t replaceable.”
Austin had heard bits and pieces of the estrangement his father had with his own brother years before his uncle had abandoned his family.
His father’s eyes closed for several minutes before he unmuted the game. When he looked up, he seemed genuinely surprised to see Austin.
Austin knew stress made his father’s symptoms worse. “Hi, Dad.”
“Austin, how are you? What brings you here?”
He swallowed down the lump that rose in his throat. His dad was slipping away now, and he couldn’t stop him. Maybe he should be happy for the few lucid minutes he’d had, but he didn’t want just a few minutes. He needed his dad. All of him. Not just a piece of him once in a while.
He cleared his throat as he tore off another piece of licorice and passed it to his father. “I just drove up from Heritage. Brought you some of your favorites.”
His father reached for the candy. “I do love this stuff. Did you say you came up from Heritage? Nate lives there. Have you talked to him yet? You two need to talk.”
“I saw him.” He checked the time. Nate was fifteen minutes late now. Looked like another no-show.
“He’s a good boy, that Nate. He’s a pastor, you know.”
Austin clenched his fist. “I know.”
A woman in a set of pink scrubs poked her head through the door. “How are you doing, Mr. Williams?”
“Great. This is my brother, Greg.” He motioned to Austin. “We ran a landscaping business together when we were kids. Now my son owns it. He’s a good boy. Both my sons are.”
Austin offered a half smile to the nurse, and she nodded in understanding. “I bet you’re getting tired, Mr. Williams. It’s time for a nap, and you were up early this morning.”
“I think you’re right.” He stood and looked around . . . lost.
Austin stood and hugged his dad. “I should get going anyway.”
“Good to see you, Greg. Thank you for stopping by.”
Austin didn’t correct him. He just hugged him a little tighter. “Bye, Dad. See you Wednesday.”
His dad wanted him to make peace with Nate. Nate who never showed up when it counted. Nate who left him to handle the family business and his dad’s disease alone.
A weight pressed in on Austin’s chest as he exited the room and made his way back to his car. He’d spent his life trying to make his father proud, but this time his dad might just be asking too much.
five
Why on earth would people voluntarily sign up for speed dating? Olivia searched the web again for an event listed within driving distance this week. Nothing.
The only one she’d found anywhere near here was more than three weeks away. There was no way she could get the article done in a timely manner. She’d emailed Mr. Lang about the problem this morning, then wavered between the fear of him telling her he didn’t care and him telling her to write an article on something worse, like interview the local pastor.
Her computer chimed with an incoming email. Looked like it was time to find out.
To: Olivia Mathews
From: Frank Lang
Subject: RE: Speed-dating problem
Dating article pushed to a late September issue. See following schedule. Right now I’ll give you a spot every other Friday issue, assuming I like what you write. Don’t disappoint me.
8/19—Late-summer Michigan flowers
9/2—Free-range chickens
9/16—End of the season at amusement parks
9/30—Modern dating
All articles are due by 5:00 p.m. on date listed.
The guy didn’t waste words. And what a strange collection of topics. But what Mr. Lang wanted Mr. Lang got. She scanned the list again and blocked off some time to work on the articles. The one on Michigan flowers would be a snap. And she could almost write about free-range chickens in her sleep. Her parents had kept chickens since she could walk.
She pulled up the speed-dating signup page. Now she needed to find someone to drag along with her to speed dating. She shut her laptop and grabbed her purse as she headed out the door.
“Where are you going?” Her seven-year-old sister, Trinity, stood next to Olivia’s car.
“She’s probably going to go meet Naaaate,” her brother Caleb taunted from his bike as he stood next to the barn.
Trinity reached for the handle of the car. “I’m coming.”
Olivia scooped her up. “Nice try. And no, I’m not going to see Nate. I’m going to see my friend Libby.”
“Is she dating Nate?” Trinity hugged Olivia around the neck.
The idea jolted something inside Olivia. Not that she worried about Libby and Nate. But the truth was he’d eventually date someone else, and Olivia didn’t know if she could handle watching that.
“No, she’s my new roommate.” She set Trinity down and slid into the car. She pulled out her day planner and penciled in some more time to work on the articles. She had to make these the best writing she’d ever done. There was no way she could stay in Heritage and watch Nate date and marry someone else.
Olivia waved to her sister as she pulled out of the driveway. Her mind spun with flower ideas until she turned down Henderson Street five minutes later. She edged through the four-way stop at Richard and Henderson and did a double take as she passed Luke’s rental. Was that Nate in the bay window?
The buzz around the diner said he’d reported to a brush fire that morning. They had gotten it under control and saved all the nearby structures, but a part of Olivia had been holding her breath until she saw him again—whole, breathing, healthy.
Nate positioned a board above his head and then lifted a cordless drill. He was healthy all right. Even from here she couldn’t help but appreciate how that action showed off his wide shoulders.
She hadn’t talked to Nate since the day of her interview, and that was probably for the best. She couldn’t seem to be around him without wanting to argue her point one more time or cast caution to the wind and kiss him. Especially on days he looked like this.
But it wasn’t just his physical appeal that drew her in. He was wise and amazing with her family, and he had a calm
confidence that seemed to anchor her. She loved serving alongside him and had actually envisioned building a family with him until he—
Police lights flashed in her rearview mirror, and Olivia glanced at her speed. Zero miles an hour. Had she really stopped in the middle of Henderson Road to check out Nate? She pulled into Luke’s driveway and slid out of the car.
Officer Hammond pulled up next to her and rolled his window down. “Good afternoon, Miss Mathews.”
“Afternoon, Officer Hammond.”
“Always better to pull over before ogling the local pastor.”
Olivia’s face flamed. “Yes, sir.”
“I’ll say, my teenage daughters have stopped fighting me about going to church since he showed up. Although I’m not sure their motives are pure. Have a nice day.” He chuckled as he rolled up his window and pulled from the curb.
Great, one more for the town gossip. She ran up Luke’s porch and knocked.
Libby flung the door open, face red. “I should never have moved here.”
Olivia opened her mouth to question her, but Libby disappeared back in the house. “I tried to make friends, be neighborly, but no.”
Olivia stepped in and closed the door behind her. “Something happen?”
Libby upended a couch cushion. “First he accused me of being a liar, then he gave me money. Or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever. As if I would manipulate him out of the two dollars and forty-seven cents.”
“He?”
She fixed the cushion and then upended another. “Found it.” She stood, holding a quarter, then dropped it in a baggie of change. “Why would I want his money? See, I have money.” She sealed the baggie and lifted it as if to display it. “I had to dig through junk drawers and seat cushions, but I can pay for my own eggs.”
Olivia grabbed the cushion from the floor and fitted it back in place. “Do you need to borrow some money?”
Libby lifted the bag higher.
“Right, you have money. Got it.” Olivia walked into the kitchen and pulled two mugs and a tin of tea from the cupboard. “Let’s start at the beginning.”
Fifteen minutes later the teacups were empty, and Olivia had heard it all, from Libby’s conversation with her mom to the two dollars and forty-seven cents.