Page 47 of Where the Music Grows

I glance down at my disaster of an outfit. “In my defense, I forgot I looked like this.”

That makes her laugh harder.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll have dinner with you, Jack. But you’re buying. And showering first.”

“Deal.”

She nods once, then disappears inside. The screen door bangs shut behind her.

I stand there for a full minute, staring at the empty porch before snapping back to reality and getting back to work.

Chapter Sixteen

Jack

This is a moment when I am so grateful for Aggie’s generosity. Camping doesn’t leave a lot of room for serious personal hygiene. And tonight is one night I really want to look and smell good. But it’s a little awkward to get ready for a date with Aggie’s niece in her house.

But she’s cool.

“Go on in,” Aggie says when I knock on the front door and step inside.

“Thanks, Aggie.”

“You’re welcome. Fresh towels are hanging in there.”

I head to the bathroom. Aggie’s house always feels warm, lived-in, like it’s been a home for a long time. I strip off my work clothes, tossing them into a pile by the door, and step into the shower. The water is hot, almost scalding, but it feels good against my sore muscles. I scrub away the sawdust and sweat, lathering up with Aggie’s fancy soap that smells like cedarwood and something else I can’t quite place.

When I step out, I feel like a new man. I towel off quickly, running my hand through my damp hair. I grab my bag and pull out a dark gray button-up that doesn’t look too wrinkled. I pair it with my least stained pair of jeans and call it good. The mirror reflects a version of me that looks almost put-together, if not slightly nervous.

I step out of the bathroom to find Aggie in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove. She gives me a once-over and nods approvingly.

“Looking sharp,” she says with a wink. “Don’t mess this up.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling my cheeks heat up. “I’ll do my best.”

She chuckles and waves me off. “Go on, get out of here before you start overthinking it.”

She hands me a slip of paper. “I made reservations at Bella Sera. It’s twenty minutes west—nice place, but not stuffy.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“Please.” She waves me off. “I haven’t had this much entertainment since Mrs. Johnson’s prize rooster got loose at the county fair.”

I pocket the reservation slip. “Any last-minute advice?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full. And for God’s sake, let her order first. And for extra brownie points, open the door for her.”

For a moment, I feel sadness. Not sad, but mournful. Aggie is telling me what my mom should have. The feeling passes and it’s replaced with thankfulness.

“Thank you, Aggie.”

“Treat her right,” she says. “She can be a handful, but she’s worth it.”

I follow the dirt road that leads to Jinnie’s house. I smile when I pull up. It’s small. Looks like one of our sheds back home. There are flowers in front and a tiny deck with a little table and two chairs. It’s cute. And very her.