The Perfect Plan

by Carina Taylor

  Right now, it was time to make the girl feel needed.

  LIBBY MOVED A SLIMY head of lettuce to the back of the pile. The grocery mart in Colter left something to be desired when it came to fresh food. The claim that they carried “everything a chef could need” was a bit of an exaggeration.

  They did have a wide variety of protein bars and energy drinks, along with an entire aisle devoted to chips. She might be forced to live on them. Maybe she should just put some gas in her car and drive to Eugene for some groceries. Marcie had told her earlier today that Beth took grocery orders from people in Colter any time she went on a run for the restaurant. It was practically a free delivery service. Libby decided she'd try to get a hold of Beth before her next trip.

  Libby finally found some lettuce that wasn't trying to turn to sludge yet. She bagged it and added it to her basket. At least the cucumbers and celery were still decent. She didn't think she could handle any more frozen waffles.

  She glanced around for Marcie and spotted her across the store, next to the office and crafting corner. She was talking on the phone to someone. Libby gave her a little wave before moving toward the small section of fruit. If she was going to be living here, keeping an eye on Marcie, the least she could do would be to make sure Marcie ate healthier and had a well-rounded diet.

  Libby would feel better about staying with Marcie if she was contributing in some way. She didn't think she could bring herself to cash Evan's checks. She would be starting her job soon. She also had her graduation present from Aunt Leanne that would help tide her over. It wasn't like she was hurting for money at the moment.

  Plus, she'd heard back from the remote accounting firm. She had gotten a job doing some basic bookkeeping. It was a contractual job, and she'd be able to earn a nice extra chunk of cash over the summer, depending on how many jobs she took on. Her financial situation was beginning to look brighter.

  She pulled her phone from her pocket and texted Evan while she was thinking about it.

  Libby: You're not paying me to live here, so don't bother writing a check.

  She finished loading up her basket and glanced around to look for Marcie, but she must have disappeared down one of the aisles.

  Libby's phone chimed.

  Evan: I'm paying you. You're putting our minds at ease.

  Libby: Nope. I'm here rent-free. That's payment enough.

  Evan: Libby. I will find out what bank you use and deposit money behind your back if necessary.

  Libby: Look at it this way, if you don't pay me, I won't have to worry about self-employment taxes.

  Evan: I'm going to pay you. Somehow.

  Libby: Just make sure I come out of this summer still alive.

  Evan: I'll try my darnedest.

  "Hi there." A voice startled Libby's attention away from her phone.

  Leah Holbrook stood next to her, loading bananas into her cart.

  "Hi," Libby answered.

  "How do you like Colter so far?"

  The first time Libby had seen Leah, she had witnessed an ugly argument between Leah and her sister-in-law, Doris. Marcie and Libby had stopped by the post office to pick up the mail, and Doris and Leah had been in the middle of World War III. After Leah had left, Doris had proceeded to quiz Libby about how much she liked living with Marcie. Maybe nosiness runs in the family; maybe it just runs in Colter.

  "It's nice here," Libby offered before snagging some bananas for her basket.

  "Yes, it is. It's a wonderful community. If it weren't for a select few people who live here, it would be an ideal place to live."

  At first, Libby wondered if this was Leah's way of telling Libby she didn't belong, but then Leah continued. "I wanted to apologize for the first time I saw you. I didn't have a chance to speak to you when you were at my house for The Garden Show meeting. I'm sorry you had to see my sister-in-law and me go at it. She's such a piece of work, and I hope you won't let her taint your view of Colter."

  Libby nodded and turned around to grab some oranges — and to hide her laughter. Once she had it under control, she turned around, trying to keep her face serious. "Don't worry, I won't let anything taint my view of Colter. Not even your sister-in-law."

  Leah nodded thoughtfully. "That's the spirit. Well, I'll be sure to drop by a brochure and the event calendar for you. There's always something happening in town that you can get involved in. I'm the president of the welcoming committee, so if you need anything, or if you want a guided historical tour of the town, just let me know."

  Libby nodded and thanked her but was momentarily distracted by seeing Marcie walking up to stand behind Leah.

  When Leah began to drone on about the exciting history of Colter, Libby tried to pay attention. She really did. But then Marcie raised a large knitting needle to her throat and made a cutting motion.

  Libby widened her eyes and tried to shake her head subtly. She didn't like the look in Marcie's eye. Or the fact she was waving a knitting needle around like a knife.

  Libby brushed the flyaway hairs from her face. Marcie was still standing there.

  Unfortunately.

  Marcie pulled her hand up as though she were going to bring down the knitting needle into the back of Leah's neck. If she planned to frame Doris, she should have picked a more remote location. But then again, did unhinged murderers think through those types of things?

  Probably not.

  "Marcie!" Libby interrupted Leah's speech that had moved on to the rare, historical landmarks that set Colter apart from other towns. "Marcie, I'm so glad you came to say hello to Leah. She was telling me about the history of Colter."

  Marcie dropped the knitting needle back into her basket and patted Leah's arm before she grabbed a container of caramel dip from the apple display. "Good morning, Leah. You did an excellent job at the meeting on Sunday. Thank you for hosting."

  The next ten minutes were spent trying to get away from Leah so that they could pay for their groceries. It wasn't until they were in the car, buckled up with locked doors that they were able to escape the Leah vortex.

  "That gal can sure talk, can't she?" Marcie commented as she slammed on her brakes for a squirrel running across the road.

  "I thought I would be stuck in there so long that I might turn into a historical landmark myself."

  "The trick is never to engage unless you have all the time in the world. You have to pretend like you don't hear her. Don't even make eye contact, or it's a lost cause."

  Libby smiled so big her cheeks hurt. She'd been doing a lot of that lately – smiling excessively. Spending time with Marcie was good for her soul. She smiled more in this last month than she had all year. She even found herself smiling more and more at Evan's text messages. Maybe he'd been right that Colter would be good for her. She was beginning to wonder if he had asked her here for her own benefit as much as Marcie's.

  But then Libby remembered Marcie and the knitting needle. Had she been carrying that around, waiting for an opportunity to present itself? "Marcie, you can't kill Leah with a knitting needle."

  Marcie turned onto Maple Street before responding. "You're right. Far too messy. I don't think I'm strong enough to do it either. I'll have to think of something else."

  Libby didn't have a chance to respond because they had pulled into Marcie’s driveway, and Marcie was answering her cell phone.

  She was going to have to come up with some way to convince Marcie to abandon her mystery novel.

  CHAPTER TEN

  EVAN sat in the break room eating his lunch. It was his second week on the job, but he was already enjoying the work. His supervisor, Scott, loved to teach. Scott was an explainer by nature, and it had made Evan's transition smooth. He didn't have to ask many questions because Scott would explain everything in great detail. It was nice now, but Evan could see how it might get annoying in the months to come. He'd had a fifteen-minute lesson on refilling a specific brand of stapler.

  Right now, he was doing basic tasks, and he had a long way to go bef
ore they would let him take the lead on a project, but thanks to Scott's lectures, Evan was convinced he'd learned more in the last two weeks than in all his years at college. Nothing beats hands-on experience, and while Scott had the potential to drive Evan crazy, he did know a lot about architecture.

  Evan's phone vibrated, and he found himself hoping it was Libby. Texting and calling Libby was turning out to be his favorite part of the day. What's more, she had started to initiate a lot of the conversations. They spoke via phone or text every day now.

  And that was a problem, because he was starting to hope that she wanted to talk to him. They had always been friends, but college had been a busy time for both of them. If he had had even a remote chance of fitting in a date with her, he would have asked her out their junior year. Instead, they had both been busy with internships, classes, and jobs.

  Libby hadn't been the type of girl to abandon her friends for a guy. Luckily, Evan had fallen into the friend category in college. A lot of guys hated to be friend-zoned by a girl they were interested in. But for Evan, it worked in his favor. Because he was a “friend,” he had priority in her life. She'd cancelled at least two dates that he knew of because he'd needed help doing his laundry. Ever since he had dyed her clothes pink, she assumed he was helpless with laundry. He didn't correct her, because sitting at the laundromat together was better than sitting there by himself. And somehow, his laundry days always landed on her date nights.

  He was in it for the long game, and his laundry schedule had been sacrificed in the name of spending time with Libby.

  He wanted to spend the rest of his life with a girl who was loyal rather than casting her friends to the side for the next shiny object or newest boyfriend. Libby was exactly that. And so, he had been biding his time to ask her out when they graduated college. Now that the time had come, nerves were getting the best of him, and he worried that he had read into their friendship a little too much. Maybe she did just see him as the boy next door.

  It wasn't doing him any favors to think of all the “what ifs,” because his head was starting to spin. He unlocked his phone, hoping to see Libby's name across the screen.

  Except it wasn't Libby. It was his mom.

  Mom: How is Marcie? I would call her, but I'm afraid she'll think I'm interfering again.

  Evan: She's getting ready for The Garden Show. Things are probably a little crazy.

  Mom: Are you sure it's safe letting Libby live there with her? I was worried about Marcie — now I'm worried about that girl.

  Evan: Don't worry. Libby can handle herself. She'll keep Grandma safe.

  Mom: Okay, sweetie. I can't do dinner next week because I'll be out of town.

  Evan had only seen his mom once since moving to Portland. Charlene Garber worked at Simpson & Marks brokerage firm in Portland. She was always busy no matter the season. And she was about to be one of Libby's new bosses.

  Evan didn't think Libby realized that yet.

  Libby also didn't realize that Evan had asked his mom to get Libby a job there. Evan wasn't sure how to broach the subject with Libby, so he had left it alone. What she didn't know couldn't hurt her. She had a great job lined up that started in the fall, and she would be living in Portland, close to Evan.

  Right now, all Evan wanted to do was drive to Colter every chance he got. It was only a two-hour drive from his Portland apartment. It would be easy to head down there on the weekends. He had wanted to help Libby get settled in, but he needed to be ready to start his own job. It had only been a month, but it felt like it had been forever since he had seen her.

  He swiped his phone and sent Libby a text, which she replied to immediately.

  Evan: Marble or stone?

  Libby: Are you purchasing my headstone?

  Evan: Yes.

  Libby: I'd prefer a crypt. Maybe a life-size monument.

  Evan: Monuments don't come that small.

  Libby: DYING laughing here. Not.

  Evan: You'd save Grandma a lot of work.

  Libby: If you were here with me, I would eat this last cookie in front of you.

  She texted Evan a picture of a chocolate chip cookie out of the bakery box.

  Evan: Cruel woman.

  During the first week that Evan and Libby were neighbors, he had spotted her searching her car for spare change so she could give it to a homeless man by the bus stop. That was the day Evan had decided she was someone special.

  Evan had started to fall for her toward the end of their junior year in college. They had fallen into an easy friendship. Except, Evan knew that, on his part, it was much, much more.

  But he'd let it slide. He knew she wasn't ready for a serious relationship, and he didn't want anything but that with her. He was content for the time being with their status as the fixers. Max and Vivian would inevitably cause problems, and then Evan and Libby would fix them.

  Now that college was over and Libby was moving to Portland, he wanted to make his move. The only question was, did Libby feel the same toward him? Could she feel something more for him? Or would he have a permanent resting place in the friend zone?

  He was both excited and terrified to find out the answer. It was time for a visit to Colter.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  LIBBY finished her morning jog with a sprint. She stumbled to a stop and reached her hands behind her head, gasping for air. If only she hadn't been so lazy, she wouldn't be so out of shape. The past couple weeks, she'd been lounging around Marcie's in the mornings, reading books. Marcie always had the afternoons and evenings full, but the mornings were her time to write, and now it was Libby's time to read. She hadn't had nearly as much physical exertion since she'd come to Colter. No waiting on tables, making coffees at the speed of light, or running to and from classes.

  She was going to have to step up her exercise regimen.

  Her feet ached and she rolled her ankles to help relieve the pressure. There was a worn spot at the back of her shoe that was beginning to rub her heel raw through her sock. Time to do some shoe shopping. How did one little blister make her feel like her leg was falling off? She bent down and yanked off the offending shoe. Strings pointed in all directions where her heel had rubbed through the fabric and hit the frame of the shoe. It was worthless now. And it stank like a skunk had run two hundred miles in it.

  All Libby wanted was a pair of running shoes that would last longer than six months. They didn't even have to smell pretty. She was used to that rank sweat smell. But she did want something that would last a while.

  She glanced up to realize she was hobbling around in front of the hardware store. The store didn't open until seven, but there was already a light on in the building. It was six-fifteen, so Harvey, the owner, was probably prepping the store to open. She glanced inside. She saw two men sitting at a folding table to the right of the cashier desk. Harvey and another gentleman Libby couldn't name sat there. The unknown gentleman had thick, white hair. He looked like someone who would step out of one of those black-and-white movies that Vivian loved so much.

  The two men held cards in their hands and were staring intently at a narrow board that sat on the table. Harvey looked as though he were moving something on the board and was wearing a gleeful smile. She almost didn't recognize him. She hadn't thought his face would be capable of that action.

  Libby had seen Harvey on several occasions at his store and church. He'd never had a reason to smile before.

  Harvey sat back and slapped both hands on the table, his grin settling into a smirk.

  The white-haired gentleman glanced out the window and nodded to Libby as he smiled. Libby waved with her broken tennis shoe. The man motioned for her to come inside.

  Harvey turned around and began motioning for her to come inside, too. She glanced behind her to make sure they weren't waving at someone standing behind her before she tentatively headed for the door while both men nodded encouragingly at her. She opened the door and walked in, her gait uneven with the missing shoe.

  Ha
rvey jumped up and grabbed another folding chair from behind the counter.

  "We're having a cribbage dispute. We need you to settle it."

  "Now, it's real simple," the other man said. "Harvey here is trying to claim two of my points when I clearly have them. He was rushing my counting. He's in such a dang hurry you'd think we were off to the races."

  "I don't think I'll be much help," Libby said as she sat her weary bones down in the chair. "I don't know what cribbage is."

  Harvey sat down with a thump. The other man set his coffee cup down with a clatter.

  "Never heard of cribbage?"

  "Didn't your grandparents or parents teach you?"

  Libby shrugged. "I never knew my grandparents."

  The men looked at each other for a long moment. "Well, it's settled then. Be here at six every weekday. Bob and I will teach you to play cribbage. It's a crime not to know." Harvey's eyebrows waggled as he said, "We used to start at five o’ clock, but now Bob plays tennis with Helen at that time."

  Libby didn't know people played tennis at five in the morning. Early rising was like an epidemic around there.

  Bob and Harvey were looking at her. She felt the pressure. She couldn't say no now. Besides, she was determined to make more friends in her life. Marcie had already proven to her that age was no obstacle when it came to friendship.

  "I'll be here at six sharp," she agreed as she pressed her lips together to fight a smile.

  "Good, now hang around a minute, and we'll give you a quick rundown of the rules," Bob told her.

  Both men turned back to their bickering. Libby quickly searched on her phone for directions on how to play cribbage. The instructions online were confusing enough that she almost changed her mind.

  But despite Bob and Harvey's constant arguing that the other one was teaching her wrong, they managed to explain the rules to her.