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As he poured the coffee, I took a deep inhale and tried to recenter myself after Stacy’s surprising news. Thinking about Tiller helped. “He’s back on the roster for this week’s game,” I said. “So he’s on his way to Buffalo.”
Pim shivered. “Better him than me. At least in Aster Valley we get the sun with the cold. What would you two like to eat?”
After ordering, we took a few sips of our coffee in comfortable silence. I’d spent quite a bit of time thinking things through and was surprised to find myself almost relieved at the news the property had fallen through. Not because I didn’t want the Rockley Lodge. I did. It was still my dream property. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wanted to run my own business rather than run the Civettis’. Tiller was right. I could start small with my own catering business. The upside to that plan would be flexibility. I could plan my business around Tiller’s schedule so that we spent part of the year in Aster Valley and part of it in Houston. While I didn’t really want to ask him for financial help, I’d be willing to ask him to cover the costs of the travel between the two places. I knew he wouldn’t think anything of it. In fact, he’d insist on booking first-class tickets each way.
“You’re smiling,” Stacy said with her own smirk. “That’s unexpected.”
“I have an idea,” I said. “And I’d love to get your help with it.”
As I talked through my idea for trying to find a cozy cabin with the nicest kitchen possible in my price range, both of us got more and more excited. We talked for two hours, and by the time we paid our tab at the diner, we had a table full of scribbled pages from my notebook and tons of saved listings on her iPad to check out over the following days.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through town and ducking into more shops to get a feel for the people of Aster Valley. Before I made an investment here, I wanted to be extra sure it was the right place. I already knew in my heart I wanted to buy a place here, but my heart couldn’t be trusted. My heart was Vegas. Sometimes stupid shit happened in Vegas.
Everyone I met was amazing. I even ducked into the public library where an older man pointed me to the section on Aster Valley’s history. I fell more in love with the town and became more sure of my plan. I couldn’t wait to tell Tiller about it, but I wanted to wait until I had something concrete to share. Until then, I dodged his calls. Part of me knew I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from telling him about my dad, and I worried Tiller would be mad at me for keeping it from him, not to mention making a deal with him in the first place.
But when Thursday came along, I finally had something exciting to tell him. I’d found a little fixer-upper cabin that might work, but I wanted to get his opinion about the plan before making an offer. Tiller had given me every reason to think we were together, and if I was going to make this big of a decision, I wasn’t going to do it without him. Since he was probably already at the stadium in Buffalo, I shot him a quick text.
Me: Good luck today. Call me after the game. I want to ask your advice about something.
“Aww, his face just went all lovey-dovey,” Pim said to Bill. I’d been on my way to take Truman some dinner at the shop, when Pim and Bill had spotted me on the sidewalk and offered to walk with me.
Bill reached out and ruffled my hair. He was a quieter, sweet sort of man who’d surprised me with physical affection as soon as he’d gotten to know me a bit better. He was a hugger with a great big belly and strong arms. He smelled like fried onions mixed with coffee, and it was like getting a hug from the diner itself.
Winter and Gentry had hosted me for dinner the night before and had invited several other LGBT families to join as well. I’d spent at least half an hour swapping recipe ideas with Bill while Gent had sat with Solo in the other room teaching him how to play the guitar and a woman named Mindy had talked Winter’s ear off about the hand pain she was experiencing after taking a wood-carving class. The evening had been comfortable and friendly, exactly the kind of atmosphere I’d hoped to find there in Aster Valley.
I glanced at the phone in my hand and debated whether or not to text him I loved him. The tinkle of a bell rang in the cold mountain air as Truman stepped out of his shop and turned to lock the door behind him. It was quickly followed by the sound of my phone ringing. Since I was expecting a call back from Stacy with the answer to a zoning question for the cabin we’d looked at, I answered the phone without looking.
