“All right, but don’t get mad at me later. You chose this. I won’t be long.”
I got out, leaving the door open for a minute to ensure she didn’t change her mind. She didn’t. Instead of heading to the house, I crossed the yard toward the men.
“Ozman.” Lex offered a fist to bump as he sized me up. “Feeling better?”
“Much. I hear I missed a solid touchdown in Arkansas.”
“Meh. It was all right. We were about half a mile out. We’ve seen way better, though, so you didn’t miss much. What are you doing here?” He eyed the house, and I sensed he knew.
I flashed my attention to Gale’s dad, who also had a knowing look in his eyes. Had Gale told him?
Instead of answering, I reflected the question back at Lex. “What are you doing here?”
“Mr. Windrow is having trouble with his mower. Uncle Al sent me out to have a look at ’er.”
“Nice. You’re in good hands,” I said to Mr. Windrow, exchanging smiles.
“Gale’s inside, if you’re looking for him. Hiding out in the basement, if I had to guess.”
Yeah, I suspected we weren’t fooling anyone.
“Cool. Thanks.” Without explanation, I headed for the back porch and let myself into the house.
31
Gale
Gale
I rearranged the photographs on the whiteboard into a different configuration and referenced my notebook. Taking a picture down, I replaced it with another, then adjusted a few sentences in the fourth paragraph of my notes. It still wasn’t working.
I’d selected eight potential images for the article I was putting together forWeather. When I emailed the proposal for a special piece, they eagerly responded, requesting more details. I’d promised to draft something by the end of the week so they could review it and decide whether to feature it in their magazine.
The problem was that I had dozens of shots and could only use six to eight photographs maximum. If they offered me a four-page spread, I could accommodate more, but I was an amateur, so I didn’t get my hopes up. I would be lucky to get half a page.
The distant creak of the basement stairs drew my attention to my closed bedroom door, and I cocked an ear. As far as I knew, Dad was outside with Lex, fixing the lawn mower. I figured if they got it working, I would hear it roar to life, and Dad would take a run at the uncut grass.
It could have been Olivia descending the stairs, except she stomped like an elephant.
Straining, I heard nothing further. Maybe Dad had come down to grab something in the laundry room. Maybe I was imagining things. I refocused on the display board, adjusted my crossed legs, rested an elbow on my knee, and balanced my chin in an upturned palm.
As I scrutinized the selection, a soft rap sounded on the bedroom door.
I sat upright and frowned.
“It’s open.”
The door creaked on its hinges, and Ozrik’s face appeared, wearing a tentative smile. “Hi. Can I come in?”
He was the last person I expected, and a kaleidoscope of butterflies burst to life in my belly.
My voice squeaked when I tried to say yes, so I nodded for emphasis.
Ozrik entered and quietly closed the door behind him, leaning against its surface. “Your dad told me you were down here. I hope it’s okay that I dropped in unannounced. I tried texting. Three times. You didn’t answer.”
I glanced at my phone with a wash of shame.
“Are you ignoring me, or did Olivia give me the wrong number?”
