“I heard that she was renting your place?” She leaned forward, her eyes heavily made up under thick, designer glasses.
I grunted again. My shoulders rolled forward as if I could block the questions.
“Good. It’s about time. Lily wouldn’t like her space being abandoned like that. You know she wanted everything full of life and vitality,” Ruth carried on, oblivious to her words cutting me like daggers.
The shock of hearing her name, so unexpected, when I was already on edge, slashed through me. I ground my jaw. Even though what Ruth was saying was true, it didn’t mean I wanted to hear any of it.
“Sounds like she’s running away from something. I heard her talking to her father a little. She’s in pain. Even if she shows it a little funny. You know better than most that the weird ones need handling with kid gloves.” She sniffed as she pointedly looked me up and down, pulling a fur wrap further up her shoulders.
“Thanks for that, Ruth,” I said quietly. She clicked her tongue as though annoyed at me for finding offense in her comment.
“I know you’ll take care of her and not let your big grumpy facade scare her off.”
I turned my head slowly to blink at her.
“Good man.” She patted my cheek. “Also, don’t forget, Pace said you’d come look at the light switch in the Aubergine Room.”
“Of course he did.”
“You can be a grumpy recluse all you want, but this town is still gonna worry and care about you all the same. You’re kin as far as I’m concerned. And you know it’s what she would have wanted.”
I ground my jaw. “I have to go.”
That was exactly the problem: feeling the need to be in the safety of my home, clawing up my spine.
As I was walking away, she added, “Maybe trim up that beard and hair? You’re too handsome to be buried under all that fuzz.”
I ran a self-conscious hand over the beard that had, albeit, grown a little wild in this last year. Shaving was low on the priority list when my heart was so broken.
The exit of the store was in sight. The freedom and safety of my cabin called to me. Tension locked my shoulder near my ears. I was steps from walking out the door when I noticed the empty basket still gripped in my hand.
That woman would be going up to an empty house and it wasn’t easy to come back into town. She’d left so quickly she never did go back for her cream or anything. What if she didn’t have any food to sustain her? The last thing I could handle was her being hangry on top of everything else. Her poor planning didn’t necessitate an emergency on my end.
I would just grab a few things. I didn’t actually care.
Then I recalled how many people brought me casseroles, crockpot chicken dinners, and other miscellaneous meals when I was too sad to function. I would help out this woman in crisis, just once, and then I could go back to ignoring the world.
I growled loud enough that a passing woman pulled her kid to another aisle. It wasn’t much as far as supplies went: the catastrophic half-and-half, a few protein bars, some trail mix, fresh ground coffee, a couple of cases of water, extra toilet paper and paper towels, and some fresh fruit jam from Sutton Farms. And vegetables. And a couple of extra blankets for when the temps dropped this week, as predicted. Maybe a fresh loaf of bread from Cozy Creek Confectionery and some sharp cheese to pair with the jam. Hopefully, she wasn’t gluten-free. I would not be getting her special bread.
At the register, Betsy let out a low whistle as she scanned the last-minute purchases. Betsy was everybody’s grandma and took care to always have a soothing presence, but she was also downright nosy like the rest of the lot.
I braced myself for the next round of small-town inquisitiveness.
“Did you finally rent your house?” she asked sweetly. As if she didn’t know.
I blinked up at her.
She lifted her palms up to me. “Sorry. You’re just such a sweetie. I hate to think of you all alone up there.”
The tips of my ears flushed red as I furiously tugged cash out of my wallet.
“We all knew Lily’s passing would take its toll, but?—”
“Thanks.” I threw down more money than necessary—worth it to get out of there—scooped up all my purchases and left without another look back.
Not very polite.
With laden arms and a bristling heart, I stomped to my truck, ignoring her voice in my head. This wasn’t my fault. I shouldn’t even be here. I was going to set the expectations very explicitly when I got back to the house. Crisis or not, this C.L. Wells needed to have clear boundaries. Not even a day in town, and look what was happening? It wasn’t Pace. It wasn’t Ruth or Betsy; it was this newcomer’s fault. She had come to town and brought all her drama with her, and I wouldn’t be caught up in it.
