Page 104 of Fall Love

A strong gust of wind scatters leaves from a pile at the edge of someone’s yard across the street, momentarily blocking my view and causing me to pull over for a second.

The last thing I want is a car accident, especially with Wren in the vehicle. Also, because this isn’t my car. It belongs to Tate.

When my heart rate lowers, I pull down the short lane and park in front of the old firehouse, and stare out the window, reminded of Tate’s excitement about the building. How he told me to think about starting my own garage. Something smaller, something specialized. Something mine.

I stare at the FOR SALE sign while blindly reaching for my phone.

“Seaside Real Estate. Roz speaking.” Her cheery voice fills the phone after the first ring.

“Hey, Roz, it’s Neve Snowe.”

“Neve!” she screeches. “How are you, honey? Oh my gawd, I heard you had the baby. Is she the cutest? I bet she’s the cutest. All you Snowe girls are so beautiful.”

“Thank you, Roz. I’m calling⁠—”

“And congratulations. Tate Love is the father,” she lowers her voice like she’s sharing a secret I didn’t know. “He’s so handsome, that one. Just a real fox, if you know what I mean.”

I huff. I know what she means, but I’m not willing to play along.

“Roz, I⁠—”

“I know, I know. He’s too young for me. Besides, I’m happy with my Earl.” She sighs. “But a girl can look.”

“Rah—”

“And so romantic what he did for you,” she says.

I’m stunned into silence, confused. How does she know about the at-home barn dance? Then I figure maybe one real estate agent to another or something like that, although Tate is pretty big potatoes compared to Roz. I don’t know what kind of dealings he’d have with her on the local level.

And I don’t care.

I clear my throat. “Roz. The firehouse.”

“What about it, yeah?”

“The old firehouse is for sale.”

A heavy pause falls between us. “Uhm.”

I wait, holding my breath.

“Well, honey, it sold.” Confusion fills her voice, but I’m the one frustrated.

“The FOR SALE sign is still on the building.”

“Oh, we just keep that there until the owner takes position. Free promo, ya know. Like you call in, and that’s gone, but maybe I have something similar to sell you.”

Did she have something else? Another garage? Another firehouse? Maybe an old gas station.

But suddenly, I’m too deflated to ask.

“Sounds like good marketing,” I mutter. I definitely got caught up, believing this might be a good plan B, just like the lie of a Bucky Beaver being built over Rusty’s Wrecks.

“Thanks for the information, Roz.”

“Anything you need, honey. You keep that in mind if you ever decide to sell that cute little house on the cliff. I’m your real estate girl.”

My house. I couldn’t think about one more change.