Fuck.
I stomp to the edge of the road. The bridge ends to my left with a crumpled edge of guardrail, but nothing looks wrong in front of me. The car’s been hauled away and sits behind the sheriff’s office. Rocks jut from the edges of the banks and randomly dot the shoreline at the various levels it’s been carved into the earth. Bits of glass sparkle from near the shoreline.
Even if Dad and Holly had been wearing their seat belts, it would’ve been a miracle if they got out alive.
I adjust the brim of my hat and walk through the foxtail and broom grasses, making my way down to the shore. My steps crunch against the rocks, and memories pepper my brain. My brothers and I chasing each other down the shoreline. Mama wading into the middle of the river at its low point to get a photograph of downstream. Fishing until Dad swore too much about our lines getting caught. Trying to kayak during spring runoff and nearly freezing to death with my brothers after we barely saved ourselves from drowning. Mama was pissed, and Dad informed us we were never too old to get our asses whooped.
I squint into the sun. None of those are formative memories, yet they make up who I am. Who I was. A major life event happened here, and I wasn’t around for it. I’m here now. For what it’s worth.
I check the ground some more before giving up. There’s no camera to be found.
I climb out of the ditch and get into my pickup. No cars have been by. How long did they lay out here before?—
I shake my head. No. I can’t go down that road. I have enough on my mind. Half of today will be spent answering emails and jumping into online meetings for my company. Then I need to dig into brewery financials, but the urgency isn’t there. Once the funeral is over, I’ll be more concerned. Until then, the books can wait. Otherwise, I’ll want to troubleshoot the issues, make improvements, and design business plans. Wasted efforts if we’re selling.
A niggling in my conscience is also telling me to wait for the will reading. Dad might have left some surprises. I don’t doubt he intended to take care of Meredith, though what, if anything, is laid out? Bowen and I talked about it. Landry a little too. We’reprepared to fork over part of the sale to be done. We’re also prepared to fight it.
The longer I’m here, and the more I’m around Meredith, the less inclined I am to argue that she deserves some of the profits, should there be any.
I don’t know what I’ll tell Bowen when he gets here. Will Landry even show for me to tell him anything?
For the next few hours, I run to Williston and back to fix the security-camera issue and grab some food. It doesn’t take long to install a second doorbell camera and mount a couple of cameras on two sides of the house. My work is quick and dirty. The new owner can put up something more permanent.
I get back into my vehicle and stare at the blue house, picturing it in its prime. Will the new owners paint it white again? I smack my teeth against my lips and take off.
When I pull into Jules Creek’s parking lot, only Meredith’s SUV is there. Inside, she’s at a mash tank that’s filling with water. She’s monitoring the temperature.
I linger by the edge of the taproom. Country music is blasting through the speakers at a louder volume than any night I’ve worked. Just as the singer demands his country girl shake it for him, Meredith does a butt wiggle. I groan, the sound swallowed by the thump of the base. She’s gathered her hair in a loose bun on her head, and it bounces in time with the beat. Again, she’s in jeans, but instead of an official Jules Creek polo, she’s wearing a snug navy-blue shirt.
I know that color. It’s from the bandana of the Scandal school mascot, Robber, for the Scandal Robbers. The mascot is an old-time locomotive that used to run through Scandal. The town was initially called Riverwood, but a trio of train robbers were held at the jail. The sheriff at the time let them out on the condition they voted for him in the election. The uproar was so bad that the town’s name got changed.
I cross my arms while Meredith works, admiring the show. She picks up an iPad and pokes at the screen, then spins, mouthing the words to the song. Her gaze lands on me, and she yells. The iPad clatters to the metal platform.
She jumps again, her eyes flaring wider. “Calder!”
I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t hold it back. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Why are you watching me like a stalker then?” she snaps and stoops to grab the iPad. “You’re lucky I put this thing in a protective box after Ransom cracked the screen for the third time.”
“He was probably doing it on purpose, so you’d go back to using a clipboard and paper.”
She shoots me the cutest scowl. Tendrils of hair curl down her neck, and stray strands float around her face. I was right about her top, but I never would’ve guessed that it hugged her tits better than those damn polos.
“That shirt is now our official Jules Creek top.”
She frowns down at the graphics. “It’s a Robbers shirt.”
“Change the logo, keep the fit.”
Her cheeks blush that shade of rosy red I’ve only seen on her. I push off the wall. I have no business changing the dress code of a place that may no longer need the logo.
“There’s a sandwich on the bar counter. I’ll be upstairs.”
“I’ll turn the music down.”
I pause at the first step. “No need. I like knowing you’re shaking it down here.” I flash her a grin, enjoying the way that flush creeps down her neck.
One question is going to bother me all afternoon. How far down does that blush travel?
