Page 11 of Call It Serendipity

“Jake,” I reply with a nod. I can’t decide if I’m disappointed that I let my dad talk me out of walking to my CD player at night or not.

“What are you doing out?”

“Heading home from the shelter.”

He tilts his head to the side. “You worked late, are you hungry?”

“Yes, for the food I have waiting at home.”

If I’m being honest, a burger from Gin Mill sounds amazing right now, and the blue and white sign is calling my name from only steps away. But down the street, Jake’s newest property looms over me like a brutal reminder.

“You know, I’ve gone to Jitters about three times a day since the forum.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his corduroy jacket and flashes me an earnest look with the softest gaze. “I was hoping to see you.”

“Jake—”

“Can I at least walk you home? It’s late and unsafe to be walking around in the dark alone.”

“Not here. Ellicottville doesn’t have giant hotels that bring in loads of potentially dangerous strangers.”

He doesn’t say anything, still watching me with a steady gaze. I’m not sure why, but I almost wish he would argue with me more.

With a sigh, I relent. “If you don’t mind turning around to walk the other wa⁠—”

That damn smile returns. “I don’t mind.”

I think the beauty October brings to Ellicottville, with its rich hues and festive events, often causes people to overlook September. But I always look forward to it. September has a quiet balance—it is the true embodiment of the in between. While it might not yet be fall, it’s in these days I can fill my lungs and start to feel recharged once more.

But the month is quickly coming to an end, the hint of change humming in the air. As if possibility is waiting on the other side.

Even in the darkness of night, it’s there.

“So,” I say as we start up Monroe, “I guess I know why you were hanging around the vacant brewery last week.”

He presses his hands firmer into his jacket pockets and nods. “For the record, I’m not the pave-over-paradise type.”

“Then what type are you?”

“I’m just the son who saw this project as a way to get out of the office for a while.”

We cross the street and start onto Martha, my porch lights glowing just blocks away. Home is close, and I can’t decide if I want more time with him or not.

“Do you do this often?”

“Acquisitions?” he asks.

“I was going to say hostile takeovers.”

He chuckles lightly, again undeterred by my little jab. “I don’t. My father typically sends his senior acquisitions manager.”

“Well, that’s a big title.”

“For a big ego. Trust me, you don’t want Doyle to be the one here.”

I can’t help but crack a smile at that. “What do you normally do at the company then?”

“I’m vice president of community relations.”

“That’s an even bigger title.”