She wondered how much Noah knew about his family’s history. If he hadn’t been kept up to date by his mother, Caroline was sure that the good people of Cold River would be happy to fill him in. Already traffic to the bait shop had increased, mostly locals hoping to scope out the youngest and newest of the Cranwell brood. Her father would be annoyed with her that she kept on fishing during this busy time, and she had to admit—she had been enjoying the show so far. Although she had to wonder, Why would someone move back here on purpose? Surely he had a life and friends and a job back in New Jersey. Why give it all up for Cold River and a run-down gas station?
By the time Caroline got back up to the shop, it was midmorning, and there were customers waiting on her. They were men she knew well—Ed and Fred Johnson. They were twins in their mid-sixties, longtime friends of her father. They reminded her in appearance of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum from Alice in Wonderland, a visual that she had to try hard to repress when she was near them.
“Carolina!” Fred chirped when he saw her trudging up the hill from the river. “We thought we was gonna have to call out search and rescue!”
“I’m sorry,” Caroline huffed. “I took a little fishing break this morning. You know you can always come down and find me at the river.”
“Aw, we didn’t want to bother ya none. We woulda gone in and helped ourselves, but we was afraid of wakin’ yer Saint Bernard, there.”
Yara lifted her head lazily to look at the men and then over at Caroline, giving a false impression that she could hear them discussing her. She wasn’t impressed, and soon drifted back into her usual slumber in the grass.
“She’s not quite a Saint Bernard.” Caroline grinned. “Come on in.”
Across the street at Cranwell Station, Noah stood in the middle of the porch, his arms crossed across his chest, nodding along to something another man lounging near the side of a construction truck was saying. Caroline couldn’t help but stare at Noah. He stood at least a head taller than any of the men near him. He was so much taller than the man he was talking to that he practically had to squat down to accommodate him. When he looked up over the man’s head and caught Caroline staring, he held her gaze until she turned and scurried up the steps of the shop.
“What do you reckon is going on over there?” Fred asked once they were safely inside.
“You know who that is, don’t ya?” Ed asked his brother. “That’s Alistair Cranwell’s boy.”
Fred rubbed his chin and stared out the window. The patches on the pockets of his jeans strained each time he leaned forward, and Caroline found herself wondering what would happen if he ever tried to bend all the way over. “You know something, Ed? You’re right. He looks damn near identical to his granddaddy.”
“‘Cept he don’t look nearly as mean,” Ed retorted.
“Have you met the Cranwell boy, Caroline?” Ed wanted to know.
“I have.”
“And what of him?”
Caroline propped her fishing pole against the wall and dropped her tackle box with a thump onto the floor. She didn’t want to say something to Ed and Fred that they’d go repeat the second they got back into town. Old women in small towns get bad raps for being gossips, but no women she knew held a candle to Ed and Fred. “He seems nice enough.”
“Looks like he’s gonna fix the place up,” Ed said.
“Well, I don’t reckon that’d be a bad thing,” Fred replied. “I wouldn’t mind havin’ another place to get gas ’round here. Gary plumb near gouges my pockets.”
“I went in and took a look at that place when it was fer sale,” Ed said. “Really didn’t need too much work ’cept the plumbin’ and the roof.”
“I reckon he can find someone in his family to do that work for ’im.” Fred continued, straining his pants. “Damn near every one of ’em knows a trade of some kind.”
“Well, ’cept the ones up in Jeff City in the pen,” Fred said.
“Oh, they knew a trade alright.” Ed winked at Caroline. “Just weren’t nothin’ legal!”
Both men began to laugh, and Caroline walked over to the cooler and opened it up for the men to peer into. There weren’t any Cranwells in prison. Well, not that Caroline knew of, and there weren’t many Cranwells left in Cold River, either. “Now, take a look at the fresh night crawlers I just got in. The fish are gonna love ’em!” She hoped she’d be able to distract them long enough to stop talking about Noah.
“Girl, where did you get these?” Fred wanted to know. “They look bigger’n last time.”
“I ordered out of Arkansas,” Caroline admitted. “The local people kept sending me crates full of dead bugs.”
“Good,” Ed grunted. “Ain’t no sense in payin’ for dead bait.”
“Too bad we’re both too old and fat to go diggin’ fer worms!” Fred said, bending down to see into the cooler. This time, as he squatted lower and lower to see the night crawlers, his pants really did split down the middle.
IT WAS NEARLY dark before Caroline was ready to close the shop and head home. Although the sign on the shop door said she closed at 7 P.M., in the summertime Caroline would often stay open until 8 or 8:30—at dusk. Since Ed and Fred, there had been a steady stream of customers all day. Every single one of them wanted to know what was going on across the street. Some of them even marched over to see for themselves what this “Cranwell kid” was all about. Noah took it all in stride, she assumed, as nobody’d called for the law all day.
She scanned the grass for Yara. Normally by this time of night, she was scratching her massive paw against the front door of the shop, ready to be fed. Tonight, however, she made no attempt to show herself.
“Yara,” Caroline called, “supper!” She didn’t know why she insisted on calling her. But for some reason, Caroline couldn’t help it. She too often forgot.
There was no sign of Yara.
“Supper,” Caroline repeated, this time more quietly. She felt silly, like someone was watching her.
No Yara.
Caroline sighed. It was going to be dark within the next ten minutes, and she knew she would never find her dog in the dark. Half of her was the color of midnight. “What is wrong with you? It’s dinnertime!”
“That dog ever respond to you?”
Caroline closed her eyes. She already knew who was standing behind her, and for a second she wanted to pretend it wasn’t Noah Cranwell standing there while she hollered at her damn deaf dog.
“Do you want some help?”
“From you?” Caroline asked. “No, thanks. I’ve got it.”
“Are you sure?” Noah took a step closer to her. “Because I’ve got somebody’s three-legged dog in my building, and if it’s not yours . . . well, then I’m starting to worry that Cold River might have a feral dog problem.”
“Oh my God, did she try to bite you again?” Caroline brushed past Noah and towards Cranwell Station.
“No, she didn’t try to bite me,” Noah said. He bounded up the steps and opened the door for Caroline. “She’s been in here for the last hour.”
“With you?”
Noah knelt down in front of Yara and began to scratch her under her chin. “She’s really pretty cute.”
Caroline stared at the two of them, shocked. Yara didn’t like most people, and she wasn’t likely to change her mind about a person once she’d decided. “I can’t believe she let you do that,” Caroline said at last.
Noah gave her a lopsided grin. “Oh, we’re buddies, me and her.”
“When did that happen?”
Noah reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of what looked to Caroline like beef jerky. “I’ve been giving her a snack every so often.”
“No wonder she didn’t want to go home,” Caroline replied.
“Well, who would want to leave all this?” Noah swung his arms around the room.
Caroline glanced around the station. It was a mess. There were wires hanging everywhere, rotting pieces of furniture overturned on the floors, and almos
t everything was covered in a thick layer of dust. “What are you going to do with this place?”
“I want to restore it,” Noah said, standing up. “You know, make it what it once was.”
“A gas station?”
Noah nodded. “Yeah, with a little deli on one side.”
“I don’t remember what it looked like before it was closed down,” Caroline said, running her finger along a thick layer of dust.
“Me either,” Noah said. “I try to remember. I mean, I know it was open when I was a kid, but I just can’t remember.” He squinted hard, as if at that very moment trying to recall a far-off memory. “Most of my memories of living here are lost to me.”
“Sort of like how you lost your Southern accent and gained that slick Northern one?” Caroline joked, trying to lighten the mood. Even in the waning twilight, she could see that not being able to remember bothered him.
“You sound like my grandfather,” Noah replied, looking at her and mustering a grin. “He’s been calling me a Yankee since I got here.”
“Are you?”
“Not at heart.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“How long has your family owned the bait shop?” Noah asked. “You’ve lived here all your life?”
Caroline nodded. “For a long time.” She tilted her head back to think. “My father is from here, and I grew up here. When my parents opened the shop, your grandfather was still running the station.”
“And now you take care of it?”
“For the last five years since my mom got sick.” Caroline wished she hadn’t said that last bit. She could have left it out. Oh well, at least it was true. She just wasn’t used to people asking questions . . . about her. Everybody in town already knew everything. “So,” she continued, desperate to change the subject, “what about you? What brought you back here?”
“I was ready to get out of the Navy.”
“You were in the service?” Caroline hadn’t considered that. The Cranwells she knew hated the government just about as much as regular people hated mosquitoes.
“I was,” Noah replied. “For a little over a decade, most of it Naval Intelligence.”
“Wow.” Caroline was impressed. “That sounds exciting.”
“It was for a while.” Noah shoved his hands down into his pockets. “I got to travel all over the world, meet all kinds of interesting people. It was a good job.”
Caroline glanced around the dimly lit room. “And you gave it up to come here?”
Noah laughed. “Well, I joined the military when I was eighteen. I shipped out three days after my birthday. I had a great apartment, but I was never home. I lived out of a suitcase. I couldn’t even keep a cactus alive.”
“And yet here you are, feeding my dog treats from your pockets.”
“I’m working on my nurturing skills, as my grandfather isn’t in the best health. He’s sick a lot of the time, and the family was getting ready to lose this place.” He glanced around. “I couldn’t stand for that, you know? I’ve made a little money, not a lot, but enough to help out. I owe him. He’s been just about the only stable force in my life.”
Caroline shuddered at the thought of Jep Cranwell being anybody’s stabilizer. “You’re close with him, then?”
Noah nodded. “My mother would never let me come down for a visit after we left, but he called every week and always sent presents for holidays and my birthday.” He picked up a leather-bound book and placed it in front of Caroline. “I’ve been looking at all these old photos I found when I was cleaning, and I’ve realized that most everything that’s in here is original.”
“Most everything in here is junk,” Caroline replied. She peered down into the album.
“You’re just not looking at it the right way,” Noah said. His dark eyes were sparkling. “Look here, at this one.” He leaned over her and pointed at one of the pictures. “I saw those gas pumps in the shed at my grandfather’s house.”
Caroline looked over her shoulder at him. He was staring down at her, one of his arms practically wrapped around her as he turned the pages of the album. There was a five-o’clock shadow beginning to appear around his jawline, and Caroline forgot herself for a moment wondering what it might be like to put her skin up next to his. “I, uh,” she cleared her throat, “I better get going. It’s getting late.”
Noah lingered for a moment, his hand resting just above hers on the album. “Sure, of course.”
“I’m sorry.” Caroline didn’t know why she was apologizing. “It’s just this night is a late one, anyway, and I don’t like to leave my dad at home for long alone with my mom.”
“No need for an explanation,” Noah replied. “Let me walk you and your attack dog out.”
CHAPTER 7
CAROLINE WAS DRIVING DOWN THE ROAD IN silence, thinking about her conversation with Noah. He seemed so excited to be getting Cranwell Station whipped back into shape, and the excitement was infectious. It might be nice to have a neighbor across the road, especially one as good-looking as he was. What she couldn’t understand was the way Noah felt about his grandfather. True, she didn’t know Jep Cranwell, but she had a hard time imagining him giving anybody a warm, fuzzy feeling.
She almost drove off the road when her phone began to ring, busting up the silence and her thoughts. It was Court.
“Hello?”
“Carolina.”
“What’s up?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Court said, “Have you left the shop yet? Want to come over for a drink before you head home?”
“It’s getting late.”
“Just one drink.”
“Okay,” Caroline agreed. “But just one.”
“Great, I’ll meet you at my house,” Court said. “My shift is over.”
Court’s house was in one of the new subdivisions of Cold River. It was the kind of subdivision often seen in the suburbs of cities, where all of the houses look the same. However, in Cold River, these subdivisions were created just outside of town, in what had once been farming land. It created the look of a community dropped in the middle of nowhere, and Caroline didn’t understand why anyone would choose to live in a house that looked the same as twenty others. Pleasant Valley Sunday homes, her father always called them. But that was just like Court. He bought the house just after finishing the sheriff’s academy, and ever since then, people had been expecting him to get married, probably to Caroline, and raise a family. Of course, now, just like Caroline, he had an excuse to stay single. His stepmother was dead, and his father could no longer afford a house of his own, and Caroline heard around town that Court moved his father in just before the funeral.
Court was sitting on the porch in a rocking chair. In his hand was a glass full of whiskey. “I thought you quit drinking during the week,” Caroline said.
“It’s the Devil’s Cut,” Court replied, a wry smile on his face. “You can’t say no to the Devil’s Cut.” He offered the glass to Caroline.
She took a swig. “Thanks, I needed that.”
“It ain’t moonshine, but it’ll do.”
“Rough day?” Caroline asked.
“Not rough so much as long,” Court replied. “It’s the first night since Mom died that I haven’t been on call.”
“Hell, they couldn’t give you a night off?”
Court reached for the glass in Caroline’s hand. “They woulda given me the time off. I just figured it was best for me to stay busy.”
“I understand that,” Caroline said. It was one of the reasons she opened up the shop every day. “So how are . . . things?”
“I guess you’ve heard Dad moved in.”
“I heard.” Caroline sat down in the chair next to him. “How is that going?”
Court shrugged. “He didn’t tell me they were foreclosing on him and Mom. Didn’t tell me until we got the papers last week.”
“I’m sorry, Court.”
“I mean, I should have known. I probably did kn
ow, really, but I kept hopin’ it wasn’t true. A man shouldn’t be damn near sixty years old without a roof over his head. Not when he works as many hours a week doin’ the work he does.” Court took a drink. “Fucking cancer.”
Caroline reached over and grabbed his hand. “I wish I could help.”
“There’s nothin’ anybody can do.”
They sat in silence for a minute, soaking in the night air. Caroline’s face felt hot from the whiskey, and she was grateful for the breeze finally blowing in. “How is he? Your dad?”
“The man just lost his wife, and the day I moved him out of the house he’s lived in for twenty years, he lost his goddamn pride, too,” Court said. “How would you be?”
Caroline picked up the bottle of whiskey and handed it to her friend. “I reckon I’d need a good, stiff drink.”
It was enough to make Court smile. “He’s been havin’ one or two a night, but he’s never been much of a drinker. Not like the rest of us. Hey, speaking of the rest of us, guess who’s back in town?”
“Who?”
“Just guess.”
“I’m too tired for this,” Caroline replied, rolling her eyes. “Who is it?”
Court sighed. “You’re no fun.”
“Just tell me.”
“Reese Graham.”
Caroline sat back. It had been a long time since she’d thought about Reese Graham, and it had been even longer since she and Court had talked about him. For a little while after she moved back to Cold River, he’d been Caroline’s boyfriend. But once his daddy got him a job working on the railroad, he’d hightailed it out of Cold River as fast as his Ariat boots would carry him. He’d wanted a life bigger than Cold River could offer him, and although Caroline couldn’t say she blamed him, she wasn’t much interested in that kind of life, which is one of the reasons why they’d called it quits almost four years ago.
“I can’t believe you haven’t heard.”
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