Page 49 of Welcome Home to Ivy Falls

She stopped with the pizza halfway to her mouth.

‘It’s, uh, only me and my brother. My parents are gone.’

Crap. I need to stop talking.

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

‘It happened a long time ago,’ she said, nibbling on a corner of the crust. ‘How Beck and I ended up in the house is a whole other story.’

‘I’d love to hear it.’

She went on to tell me how Beck came back to town and bid on the house, stealing it away from his now-fiancée, Torran, at auction. How he was sure he could fix the place, which was in rough shape, until he fell through the floor of the attic. She grew more animated as she explained the way Torran had to save him. The agreement her brother made with Torran and her business partner, Manny, to restore the house, all while filming a show for the Hearth and Home network.

‘That explains the crowds in the square taking pictures. I thought they were just tourists, but I did hear whispers in the café about a TV show. Is that why there are all those funny signs around too?’

‘No, that’s the town contest. The mayor, who happens to be Torran’s dad, started it a few years ago. He did it to help tourism, but everyone in this town is so damn competitive it turned into a big deal. Barb and Susan have won the last three years.’ She wiped a bit of cheese from her beautiful lips and caught me staring. ‘What?’ She patted at her shirt. ‘Did I spill sauce on me somewhere?’

‘No. It’s this place. Dr Sheridan mentioned how everyone looks out for each other. Treats one another like family. At first I didn’t buy it, but after being here a few weeks I see what he meant. It’s…’ I paused, trying not to spoil the mood with my thoughts of Harpeth Manor. How all people cared about was how much money you could accumulate and who got the prized table in the country club’s formal dining room. ‘Refreshing,’ I finished.

She tucked her knees under her, resting her plate on her lap. It was a simple move but she did it gracefully. I pressed a hand to my chest, an ache filling the space around my heart. I barely knew this girl, but there was something about the way she held herself back, the emotions she kept solidly in check, that made me want to get closer. Help loosen the tethers she kept strapped around her heart.

‘Are you close to your family? You mentioned you had a brother the other day at the clinic. Any other siblings?’ she asked.

‘It’s only me and Gray.’

‘What’s he like? Is he a doctor too?’

I smothered a laugh. ‘No, he works for a bank, but I swear his real job is professional playboy. He dates a lot. Travels the world. Not sure the guy has a single care.’

‘Really? I would have never pictured that.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re focused and even-keeled. I expected your brother to be the same.’

‘Gray is like the freaking Tasmanian Devil. He’s got his hands in a dozen business projects. If he’s not working, he’s on the golf course, drinking with his friends, or at a concert or parties.’

‘And you’re not into that?’ she asked, taking another nibble of pizza.

‘The complete opposite. I like it quiet. Calm. To sit with my own thoughts for a while, especially after I’ve had a long day. In Senegal, I often saw close to twenty-five cases on a single shift. It’s a constant churn, evaluating patients, figuring out the next steps for their care whether it’s a follow-up appointment or the need for surgery. The work is rewarding, and I especially love it when a local medical student works with me. It feels good to pass along what I’ve learned. Know that when their training is done, they’ll take care of their community.’

‘What’s Senegal like? Why did you decide to go there? Do they speak a different language?’ She pressed a hand to her lips like she could stop the flow of questions. ‘Am I being too nosey? It’s sort of an affliction in Ivy Falls.’

‘No. I enjoy talking about my work.’

She smiled, waved her hand for me to go on.

‘After I finished my family practice residency at Meharry in Nashville, my parents wanted me to work for one of their friends in private practice. Every time I thought about it, I got this knot in the pit of my stomach. One day I was chatting with an international student who told me about the humanity ships. I went home that day, looked it up, and put in an application. A month later, they sent me an email asking when I could start.’ I set down my plate, wiped my mouth, which I was convinced was covered in pizza sauce. ‘Dakar, the capital, is beautiful. There are all these open-stall markets and the food is amazing. Fresh fish, vegetables and spices. I love taking a day to explore. Practicing my French.’

‘Are you fluent?’

‘Oui. Je parle français.’

The grin she gave me brightened the entire damn room. She stretched out her long, beautiful legs, and I shoved my hands into my pockets. It was the only way to fight my urge to touch her, know how smooth her skin would be under my fingertips. I couldn’t help but wonder if I pressed my hands to her waist, would it make her cheeks flame and her breath hitch?

‘I bet your parents were proud once you were accepted. That you were going where your skills were needed.’

I stayed quiet.