“Didn’t need to?” She said it like a question, but the only uncertainly in her mind was what Zach was getting at. She didn’t need her committee to worry about Carter so much as know the logistics surrounding the time, place, and the kinds of details that would make it all run smoothly.
“You didn’t mention the Starlight Drive-In, either.”
“I did,” she corrected. “I said that was where the kickoff would be happening and that we would send some volunteers off with flats of flowers for the hanging baskets.”
He gave her a that’s not what I meant look. “The campaign to save it.”
Lucy set her jaw. She debated telling him that she’d expressly asked the committee not to bring it up, accept money, or in any other way push it during the cleanup. It was a conflict of interest, and she didn’t want to potentially take advantage of anyone. The community was getting together, volunteering their time and efforts in beautifying the town and not benefiting one particular business. It hurt that Zach would think she’d do otherwise. “Very astute.” It came out more sarcastically than she’d anticipated, but he’d earned it.
“You do know Carter won’t be talking about farming or ranching or small-town politics.”
“I hadn’t told him to.” She chuckled, trying to soften the edge she was feeling from Zach. Did he think she would be disappointed in what Carter would say? She knew who she’d invited to speak, knew his material well. “I have no idea what he’s going to choose to talk about, but I’m sure it will be great.”
“And he allows absolutely no filming.” He stood with her floral-print bag between his huge workman’s hands, holding it open and patiently waiting for her to finish loading it with all her stuff, and yet the way he was talking to her was completely incongruous.
She dropped her pen into the bag, the last of her personal items. He closed it and handed the strap to her.
“I am aware.” She accepted the bag, keeping her comments careful. Eventually, Zach would make his point, and she didn’t want to say the wrong thing before she knew where this conversation was headed.
“I’m curious, then—” He held the door open for her, and they stepped into the bright afternoon. “—what do you expect my brother to do for you and your town? I have yet to see a single tie or business suit.”
Though he obviously hadn’t meant that as a compliment, she would take it as one. “You want to know what I expect Carter to do for Harvest Ranch? Inspire. Most of us—including the farmers and ranchers—are small-business owners, ties optional. What I’ve heard from Carter’s speeches are applicable in all kinds of businesses. They don’t have to be ones who use boardrooms and video calls.”
Certainly, that answer had to satisfy Zach. She chanced a look, expecting him to have finally gotten it and grasped that she knew what she was doing, only to find him wearing an expression of consternation.
She stopped walking and glared at him. “What is going on?”
Zach stood just as confidently, matching her stance. “I’m trying to figure out if I can trust you.”
That was an unexpected blow. “And why wouldn’t you?” She’d done nothing to earn his distrust. She folded her arms and stepped forward, almost touching his chest, her face inches from his.
He stepped back, hands in the air, and turned away for half a second before facing her again. “Okay. I admit, I heard nothing in the committee meeting that didn’t make sense. I didn’t hear a thing about saving the drive-in theater or Carter getting the word out about that.” He ran a hand through his hair, which fell back over his forehead in perfectly mussed locks. “It sounds like you admire Carter and care about the community.”
“And that’s a revelation?” She allowed sarcasm to drip from her words. That he would assume otherwise filled her with heavy disappointment.
He blew out a breath of concession, his face looking tortured. “A misunderstanding. And then when I saw the whole JJ thing . . .”
“What JJ thing?” she asked. Lucy was completely lost in this conversation. After the blazing inquisition into her intentions for inviting Carter, what did any of this have to do with JJ?
“The . . .” He paused, as if searching for the right word. “. . . reaching.” His emphasis meant more than the word implied.
“Reaching?” She raised her eyebrows. The man had to explain himself. “Who was reaching?” He had to mean JJ, but she couldn’t remember anything specifically.
“You.”
She flinched backward, her mind stuttering through her vague recollection of the latest conversation she’d had with JJ. Her brain snagged on a potential misinterpretation. “Do you mean the flowers?”
Moving closer, he gave one nod, his eyes never leaving hers. “And then you reached.”
She didn’t see the significance. “How did I reach?”
He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved in even closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his body, though a few inches remained between them. With him in her bubble, she couldn’t breathe—didn’t want to—because she was so intent on what his next move would be.
She racked her brain, trying to remember what might have given Zach the wrong impression. JJ had gone in for a hug, but nothing else about the situation stuck out as something that could be taken wrong from across the street. Zach’s gaze never wavered, and she couldn’t look away.
When she didn’t answer, he quirked an eyebrow that seemed to ask if she really wasn’t understanding. “It was more than the flowers. It was when he leaned in to hug you and you . . .”
“Yeah, I know, you think I reached.” Whatever that meant. The distinction was completely lost on her. Admittedly, she had put her arms around JJ, but when a friend hugs you, it’s rude not to reciprocate. “It was a friendly hug.”
“Oh, that was more than friendly.”
So that was the issue. “How so?” She would challenge him on it all day long.
“The reaching.” Zach started to lean forward, his eyes on hers. “Guys have been perfecting the reach for centuries. As long as there’s been a pretty girl sitting next to a guy—” With every sentence, he moved incrementally closer, his voice lowering in volume as he approached. “—he’s been trying to figure out an excuse to get his arm around her.” He was so close, she could feel his breath stir the air as he spoke. “—stretching and then reaching.”
At the last word, he stretched one arm so far forward, he started to fall slowly into her. Her heart pounded at how close he was when she had no idea what his intention was. A breath away from her, he caught himself, bracing his palm on the tree trunk behind her.
Tree bark snagged at the hair on the back of her head. She hadn’t realized she’d been moving backward with him all this time. She held her breath, both wanting him to keep coming forward and afraid that if she moved wrong, he would stop.
“Reaching,” he continued, “includes intent and desire.” This time, he reached forward with his other arm—still not touching, but effectively encircling her. “Reaching is so much more than hugging.” He ended in a whisper, his lips inches from hers.
Her heart almost stopped with wanting—wanting to preserve the moment, wanting to feel his lips on hers, wanting this moment to continue.
“Hey, Luce—” JJ called from over Zach’s shoulder.
Lucy’s heart dropped at the interruption. “Yes?” She leaned around Zach to see JJ.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Her eyes darted to Zach, and she smiled slightly. Too bad JJ had interfered. Zach had amazing eyes and what promised to be the lips to match.
“I’m just making sure—” He backed off but looked at the two of them curiously. “—since he was . . . reaching.”
“Thank you!” Still leaning toward her, Zach raised his eyes, punctuating the moment before he slowly pulled back.
JJ pointed double finger guns at Zach in warning before turning and walking away.
It took a moment for Lucy to catch her breath and her composure. Bei
ng that close to Zach had completely scrambled her brain. She inhaled deeply, and clarity returned. They resumed their walk down the sidewalk, though she had no idea where they were headed. “And the other thing? The other misunderstanding?” Lucy asked Zach. “What did you think I was going to do to Carter?”
“Rumor around town is that you only invited Carter to speak so you could raise money to save your drive-in.”
That had not been her intention at all. “And you believed it?” She forced a small laugh but found no humor. In fact, she felt rather defeated. How could he even think this about her?
“I had no reason not to.”
She could think of a dozen.
She turned on her heel and walked away, heavy with disappointment. She was done with this conversation. Done with Zach Hughes. And done falling in love. She should have seen this coming. People saw what they wanted to and believed what they thought they saw. And if Zachary Hughes wanted to believe the worst about her . . . well, she wasn’t going to stick around for it.
16
Only two more days. The words were a mantra in Zach’s head. I’ll only be in Harvest Ranch two more days.
Of course, that was the worst self-pep talk ever. Yet he hoped it would help him through what Moose had dubbed “The Nostalgia Tour” when he was so very preoccupied with Lucy. He’d really messed up there, and he somehow had to make it right. If she was going to be his sister-in-law, they’d be seeing a lot of each other at family functions, and he needed to get his head—and his heart—on straight. He loved his brother too much to cause a rift in the family over a girl.
But Lucy was not just some girl.
He pushed the thought aside. There was no use focusing on that when he had other issues pressing on his mind. Issues he might actually be able to do something about. In two days, he’d be on his way back to Hawthorne and his job at the funeral home, and yet he couldn’t. This was more than the typical reluctance to return to work after a vacation. Harvest Ranch had been so much more than time away. He’d loved almost everything about it—the people he’d met who already called him by name, the relaxing feel of the town, and the beauty of the countryside. And now, the gazebo had become the symbol of all of that. Working on it brought him peace, contentment, friendship, and a sense of satisfaction in his hard work. He felt at home.
If his work at the funeral home could never compare to the joy he found when he worked on creating and building, why was he forcing himself to go back? The answer was simple: because he’d gone through all that training and education, and his family had their expectations of him. And yet the solution was just as straightforward. He had an opportunity ahead of him, and if he didn’t at least try it, he would regret it for a long time.
The more he thought about the idea of staying in Harvest Ranch and working for David Daley, the more appealing it became. Imagining his life on a completely different trajectory maybe wasn’t as scary as he’d built up in his mind. The only major snag would be talking to his father and grandfather about it.
With another job in hand, this wasn’t the worst timing. They were parked just inside the cemetery gates outside of town, unloading from the two vehicles they’d split into for the drive.
“This is the cemetery where I got my start,” Moose announced once everyone was out and standing next to him on the gravel road.
The cemetery was absolutely beautiful, though nothing like the Mount Auburn Cemetery in Cambridge, Massachusetts. Set on a hill, the Harvest Ranch cemetery overlooked the town on one side and a lake on the other. Farmland and forests were not too far off in the distance with mountains on the horizon, giving the best of any possible views. It had to be ridiculously easy to sell plots here.
“What made you want to become a mortician?” Zach’s mom asked Moose. She’d had to have heard her father-in-law’s story before, but she seemed genuinely interested.
Moose took an uncharacteristic moment, breathing deeply a few times before answering. “I think it all started when my brother passed away when he was eight and I was seven. He got caught in a river current and drowned. Just awful.” He paused, his nose growing red and his voice thick with emotion. He cleared his throat and continued, “I missed him so much that my mom would take me to the cemetery every chance she got. It was the only place I truly felt peace.” He swallowed. “As I got old enough to ride my bike there on my own, I started going just to tell him jokes, go for quiet walks, even do my homework. I know it sounds weird, and—” He chuckled. “—I had normal friends and activities that didn’t involve dead people too.”
“He was a fantastic pitcher,” Mikki added. “Good enough to go pro—”
“But then I met the most beautiful woman in the world, and when given two choices, I chose the better deal. Mikki trumps the national pastime any day of the week.” Moose slipped his arm around his wife’s waist and kissed her temple. “As I matured, I started to notice that not a lot of people found the same peace that I did at the cemetery, and I realized maybe I had a special connection I could share. At such an already difficult time in life, people need empathy to guide them through. If I could share my comfort with the process, I could ease their pain, if only a little.”
Zach felt the sincerity behind his grandfather’s words. The problem was that he’d never felt that himself. He’d chosen the career because it was expected. And available. And the work was fine—and least it didn’t bother him—but that wasn’t fair to the mourning families, and it wasn’t what he wanted to do for the rest of his life.
After listening to Moose’s story, the Hughes family scattered, doing what they normally did in cemeteries. Leah and Ezra ran around playing chase and smelling the flowers—including the silk and dead ones, Zach noted with a smile. His mother and grandmother walked around looking at the names and dates, Marnie nearby as they speculated on backstories or common ancestral ties to their own clan.
“She was so young.” Marnie stopped at grave marker. “Barely twenty.”
“Look at this one,” Blake called, a couple of headstones away. He waited while the group caught up. “You need to read this epitaph.”
Zach stepped close enough to read it. Three lines were carved into the stone: James Calder, 6 Feb. 1887 – 5 Mar. 1989, and on the bottom line in quotation marks: “Only the good die young.” Zach’s laugh was hard and free and cathartic.
Marnie turned to stare at him. “What?”
How could she not see it? He pointed at the dates. “He was 102.”
“Oh!” Marnie laughed ruefully at herself.
“You should write that one down,” Bill said to Zach. “Keep it in mind for future clients’ families or when you sell preneed services.”
Sucking in a breath between his teeth, Zach hesitated to answer. He could just go with it, or he could take his chance when he had it. “That’s something I need to talk to you about,” Zach said in a low voice. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have in front of everyone.
His mom moved to his side and slipped her hand around his elbow. “Not here. We’re in a cemetery,” she said in hushed and reverent tones.
Marnie took his other elbow. His mom had no idea what he was about to bring up, but he and Marnie had discussed his career dissatisfaction. “Yes, here,” Marnie said. “He won’t kill you in a cemetery.”
To anyone else, that may have sounded ironic, but it was the truth. Both his father and grandfather had a great respect for those who had passed on, especially where they were laid to rest, but that didn’t mean they didn’t keep a sense of humor about it. “Even the dead laugh,” his father liked to say. “Because they get the last one,” Moose always followed up.
Now was as good a time as any to get the concerns of the past few days—no, months—finally off his chest. Catching his father’s eye, he tipped his head toward his grandfather. With no more communication than that, the two walked over.
When they came close, Mikki stopped whatever quiet conversation she was having with her husband and looked at
her son and grandson with a soft smile, reading the situation. “Business meeting?” she asked, even as she withdrew her hand from Moose’s.
“Just for a minute,” Zach promised. He hoped it wouldn’t be much longer.
Once Mikki walked far enough away, Zach’s dad brought his father up to speed. “Apparently, Zach here had something to say about work.”
Thanks for putting me on the spot, Dad. He shifted. How to begin? “You know the hidden door upstairs at Red Leaf Books?”
They nodded. His family were among the few in Hawthorne who knew about the passage, since it was meant to be secret.
“You’re pretty good at all that carpentry stuff. Almost as good as your embalming skills,” Moose teased.
“Probably because you spend more time looking at woodworking groups online than improving your embalming skills or networking with morticians,” Zach’s dad added.
He nodded. This was the perfect segue. “You’re right. When I’m at a graveside, I’m imagining the next steps to whatever cabinet project I’m working on or want to try out. When I’m around the funeral home, I’m glancing at the clock, biding my time until I can get home to my shop.”
They’d discussed these things in general a couple of times, but never when Zach had clear intentions of doing something about the occupational wanderlust he’d been feeling.
“It’s good to have hobbies,” his father agreed.
“It’s good to enjoy your work,” Zach countered. He felt the truth of it in his core. If his heart wasn’t in his work, he wasn’t giving the most he could to their clients’ families. “And I have been offered a job doing that.”
His father and grandfather both looked surprised.
“I’ve been offered a job building custom cabinetry with a high-end builder—” Zach cringed with what he was about to say, but it was an important piece of the puzzle. “—here in Harvest Ranch.” It was time to take a small step back from the family. It would be a big—and necessary—step forward for himself.
While You Were Speaking: Spring Flings and Engagement Rings Page 15