Although, for all I knew, maybe here in Vermont they were.
“I’ll do that. One of these days.”
“M’kay.” Murray inched toward the door, a little reluctantly. “Really think about going to the meeting, you know? Winter can be lonely if you don’t get out and clear the cobwebs once in a while, and people would be glad to see you.”
I wasn’t sure why that simple sentence from him brought tears to my eyes—probably because I wished so much that it was true.
“Good advice!” I said with false cheer. “You drive safely, okay?”
I waved goodbye and closed the door behind him, then turned around and promptly tripped over a stack of books, crash-landing facedown on my bed.
After a beat, I let out a muffled scream.
I prided myself on seeing the silver lining of any situation, but I was having a really hard time at that precise moment.
My historic home was crumbling to dust even faster than I’d imagined. My trailer was barely warmer than the outdoors. And I was getting tired of my own company.
I wanted someone to pour out my troubles to. Someone who’d pat my head and remind me that things would look better in the morning. Heck, I wanted someone to help memakeit better in the morning, ideally with hot sex, strong coffee, a degree in roof repair, and a winning smile.
But since none of that was likely to happen, I needed to stop my pity party in its tracks because seriously,yuck.
So what I needed was to do exactly what Murray said—tomakemyself happier, if only for a minute. What I needed… was a Rusty Spike.
I flipped onto my back and contemplated the ceiling.
Was this a safe, sane, and responsible idea?Oooh, hard no.
Was it better than the alternative of sitting here all night and again tomorrow?
The wind blew through some unseen crack in my camper home like the shrill whistle of a teakettle, and I felt like fate had spoken.
So I jumped up, washed my face, grabbed my keys, and headed for the Bugle to see what fate had in store.
CHAPTER TWO
WEBB
“A vacation resortin Little Pippin Hollow!” my brother fumed. “Ridiculous. Everyone knows Jeremiah Fogg donated the land around Fogg Peak to the town! It’sbullshit!”
As I followed Hawkins up the steps to Little Pippin Hollow’s town hall, I came to the uncomfortable realization that somehow, without my knowledge or consent, I’d gotten fuckingold.
I would swear to you that just yesterday, I’d been playing high school football and flirting with girls. Now, suddenly, I was That Guy, who needed to hold the railing while climbing the steps because I’d wrenched my back while shoveling snow, and who was trying really, really hard not to roll my eyes at all the exclamation points I could hear in Hawk’s outraged tone, because I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had enough surplus energy to feel that much emotion over any-damn-thing.
This was not what I imagined thirty-eight would look like.
“It’stotalbullshit,” I agreed, though I was thinking more about my aching back than the proposed development. “But let’s go hear what the real estate people and the mayor have to say, okay? Let’s not jump to conclusions.”
Hawk nodded once, firmly. “Know thy enemy,” he agreed, though that was not what I’d said at all. “Good call.”
My youngest sibling, seventeen-year-old Emma, gave me a concerned look behind Hawk’s back as he yanked open the door to the redbrick building. A look that saidDo something, Webb. But the best I could do was shrug in response.
Was it strange that my sweet, shy youngest brother was suddenly quotingThe Art of War?
Yup. Sure was.
And that was why I wasn’t home watching SportsCenter. For whatever reason, this proposed development was important to Hawk, so here I was.
But I had other shit to worry about, too. Like meeting with my attorney the next day about my ex-wife’s custody case. Like trying to gauge when I was supposed to start having birds-and-bees discussions with my very curious seven-year-old. Like figuring out the solution to an upcoming staffing issue at the orchard that would let me pay one of my part-timers for a nice, long maternity leave while also not leavingmedoing all the maple sugaring demonstrations. Like brainstorming how to bribe or guilt my uncle Drew into going to the doctor about the persistent shortness of breath he’d been pooh-poohing, since throwing a grown adult over your shoulder and forcing him to do things was frowned upon, even when that adult acted like a toddler. And all that being the case, I couldn’t see getting riled up over the fate of a little parcel of land the way Hawk was.
