Well, her friend didn’t ask many personal questions. Not of her. Not of anyone.
“I’m taking a few weeks of vacation to travel around the country before my new job starts, so I have a little time, but not much. And I might move…I don’t know. Twice a year, maybe?” She hadn’t asked for many details before accepting the job. The gut-level imperative to escape had driven the decision, as well as her hope that a fresh start would silence the critical voices Jarrod had left in her head. “My first assignment is in Minneapolis, like I told you, but after that they can send me anywhere across the country.”
He fell silent for a minute before responding, his voice neutral. “Minneapolis is a long way from here.”
It felt longer as each day passed and her departure from her hometown, from her clients, from her circle of female friends, and—most of all—from Sebastián became imminent.
“Don’t worry.” She forced a smile. “I’ll write you a couple times a week, just like I always did.”
He shifted his shoulders. “I’ll write back.”
“Just likeyoualways did.” She forced a smile. “With admirable promptness.”
But he’d never initiated contact himself. Instead, he’d let her take the lead, just as he’d done since high school. If she ever stopped writing or calling him, stopped asking him to her house or inviting herself to his, she suspected she’d never hear from him again.
He wasn’t capable of more, which was why she’d never asked for more. But what he gave her was more than enough to make him a treasured friend. One she’d miss terribly when she left Marysburg.
She knew she was important to him, even though he’d never said it.
Except maybe once, in that graduation limerick.
“Depending on where you’re assigned, you might end up in vastly different climates,” he said. “You’ll need something sturdy, with good heating, cooling, and weather-proofing.”
“And this Smurf mansion isn’t it.”
“Is that what you think?”
He wouldn’t make the decision for her, which was both frustrating and flattering. He trusted her judgment. Now she needed to do the same.
She nodded. “Yes. I’m happy to tour the inside of the place, though. For the sake of good TV, if nothing else.”
As if on cue, the producer poked her head out of the cabin door. To her credit, Jill didn’t appear impatient. Instead, she grinned at the two of them with seemingly genuine warmth. “Come on up, slowpokes. And a quick reminder: Try not to speak outside the range of the mic, if at all possible. We want as much usable footage as we can get.”
Jill had explained earlier that as a relatively new and low-budget show, Tiny House Trackers used a small crew, so Lucy and Seb needed to stay near the two cameras and the mic. Unlike a few other shows on the network, there was no script either. HATV was attempting to keep the television experience authentic. Lucy truly hadn’t visited any of the houses before, much less bought one already, and in the end, she could either pick one of the three options or choose to keep looking.
Given what she’d seen from Allie so far, Lucy suspected the latter choice would cost her a friend. And although she had plenty of those, including several true sisters of her heart, she hated to alienate anyone.
Especially Allie, her childhood neighbor. The girl who’d told scary stories in front of backyard campfires and inside tents, a flashlight beneath her chin as she wailed like a ghost. The girl who’d insisted on playing Light as a Feather, Stiff asa Board during every sleepover and always spread her sleeping bag beside Lucy’s. The girl who’d been part of every birthday celebration, every block party, and every camping trip Lucy’s parents had planned.
The last traces of that girl had disappeared years ago, around the time of Allie’s divorce, and Lucy understood why. She’d always hoped the friend she’d once known might return to her someday, though.
She was beginning to suspect that wouldn’t happen. But it didn’t matter, not now. Not when Allie, a camera crew, and Sebastián were all waiting for her to tour the inside of a dilapidated shack and pronounce it fit for human—or elven—habitation.
“I guess I can’t put it off any longer,” she muttered. “Where are my glasses?”
Sebastián produced them from his pocket. “You left them on the craft services table. You took them off to read the ingredient lists.”
“Well, that explains why the house seems kind of fuzzy, as well as tiny.” She accepted the glasses and settled them on her nose. “Never mind. The houseisfuzzy.”
“Moss and mold.”
She sighed. “Moss and mold on the places that don’t have dry rot instead. Lovely.”
“Speaking of which…” Sebastián’s features had settled back into inscrutability. “Be careful on the steps.”
A flimsy set of mildewing plastic steps stood before the cabin entrance. Sebastián ignored them, bounding up into the doorway with a single, athletic leap. But since she was wearing a long, full skirt, rather than pants, and couldn’t boast his six feet of height, those gray-tinged steps would have to suffice for her.
He held her arm as she climbed them, not leaving thedoorway until she stood on solid ground once more. Then, in unison, they shifted to look at the inside of the cabin.
