Page 62 of Lost and Found

“Thank you,” she says, tension winking out of her.

I tip a nod at the house. “You want to come inside? Someone is bound to come out any second and make a comment about me keeping you to myself.”

The door swings open behind me before I hear Sage huff, “Are you going to let her inside or hog her out here on the porch all afternoon?”

I raise my brows at Bea.See?

She grins.Yeah, I see.

We’ve all gone on to have a great meal and evening. Bea gets along well with everyone, just like I knew she would. Her nerves melted away the minute Sage and Wren embraced her. Ellis has been warmer and livelier than any of us are used to, and Micah silently mooned over everything she said.

Wren and I were forced to endure their rendition of the birthday song, and when I blew out my candle and made my wish, Bea was the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes again. I think I’ve probably used up my own wishes on myself, so I threw out one on her behalf.

I am currently washing empty plates at the sink, listening to the low chatter of everyone still outdoors, when Fisher comes in through the slider with a snort.

“Knew you were up to something,” he says. I follow his line of sight to the containers on the counter filled with leftovers. Carrot and hot honey corn bread, grilled ribs, and slabs of strawberry shortcake.

“It’s not all for me. Some of it’s for Bea, too.” I don’t mean for it to come out as defensively as it does. He swivels my way.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yep,” I say. “Areyougood? You’ve been very hipster-Lurch today.” He’s hovering more intensely than normal. I watched him refill Sage’s water three times and replenish her plate just as many.

He mutters something under his breath but otherwise drops the subject, grabs a dish towel covered in smiling chilies that Wren put in Ellis’s stocking this past Christmas—clearly an inside joke I don’t require details on—and starts drying the dishes beside me.

Bea is next to filter back into the house, offering to help with cleanup until Fisher and I both shrug her off.

“Oh, here, these are for you,” says Fisher all of a sudden. He gathers up the to-go containers with the leftovers I packed forher. Taking credit formythoughtfulness. There’s no way for me to call this out without sounding like a six-year-old, so I settle for glaring. He flutters his eyelashes and smiles.

“Hey, before I forget,” he says to me, “can you help me add a couple things to the goat playground next weekend?”

“Yeah, I’m free, but why are you adding more to it?” They’ve got a veritable theme park as it is.

He tosses the towel on the counter and rakes a hand through his hair. “Because we are adding two more goats.”

“Moreanimals?!” I bark a laugh. “Damn, man. Are you ever going to put your foot down and say no?” He’d better not.

“No,” he sighs. And then, so low I almost don’t catch it, “Especially not now.”

“What does that mean?” I press.

He fidgets and won’t meet my gaze. “Nothing. It’s just . . . it’s summer, so I’m trying to get started on whatever I need to do to the property while we’ve got a good stretch of weather ahead, is all.”

Weirdly evasive, but okay.

“Which also reminds me,” he adds, “when we were in Greece, how’d you get the riding mower going? It stopped up on me again the other day.”

I finish up the dishes and lean back on the counter, drying my hands on my jeans. I run him through the gambit of things it could be and give him instructions on what to try.

Bea gives me a curious, teasing look, slitting her eyes and cocking her head. “You learn all that the year you weaseled out of history and did the lawn work for special credit?” she asks.

“Special credit?” says Ellis as he ambles into the house now. “Pretty sure he almost failed that year. I had to talk the principal into letting him make up a bunch of work so he could walk at his graduation.”

My face heats when I see Bea’s confused expression. I scratch at a sudden itch on my chest. “Uh, yeah,” I say. “The Muntys are our family friends. Mr. Munty was the groundskeeper back then and had a stroke and couldn’t sit comfortably on the machine too long, but he needed the work, so . . . so I worked out a deal where I’d help out during fifth period. I just ended up getting behind. Overextended myself a bit, I guess.”

A divot forms under Bea’s bottom lip. She’s frowning at me like I’m a problem she’s trying to solve, and for once, I’m not sure I like her attention.

“Bea, you should get Fisher to tell us why he’s acting so weird,” I blurt.