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Garrett
Langford pulls his truck up to the office located at my parents’ campground. They own this place, and they own and rent at least a couple dozen cabins that are sprinkled around the valley and surrounding mountains as well as Tuttle Realty Company. The entire operation has been run from this tiny building for as long as I can remember.
He turns off the ignition and looks at me. “Mom’s car is here, but I don’t see Pop’s truck. He must be out at one of the properties or gone to fetch lunch.”
“Good. Mom will be the easier one. If I can charm her around, she’ll help me with Pop,” I say.
Langford laughs. “Big country star still afraid of his old man, huh?”
“Damn straight,” I admit.
“Well, let’s do this,” he says, and we exit the car and go inside.
I take a look around as I walk through the door. Everything looks the same. There is a desk in front of us and one against the wall to the left. A few chairs are scattered around for waiting customers. His-and-her bathrooms are to the right, and a hallway leads behind the front desk to the back, where Mom’s office, a file room, and a break room are located.
“Garrett Tuttle, is that you?”
I look to the left to see Erin Kirkley, a girl I graduated high school with, who now works for my parents.
“In the flesh,” I answer.
She is immediately on her feet and in front of me.
I give her a tight hug.
“I heard you got yourself into a pickle out there in California. Still playing the bad boy,” she accuses.
I shrug as a tall brunette comes in from the back.
“Erin, do you have a copy of the updated rental contracts?” she asks before she sees us.
“Taeli?” I ask.
I knew that my old friend and classmate Taeli Tilson had gotten a divorce, moved back home from Chicago, and started working for my parents. She also managed to snag my brother Graham’s heart. They were recently engaged. What I didn’t know was what a stunner she’d blossomed into.
“Well, if it isn’t Balsam Ridge’s most famous Tuttle!” she squeals and makes her way to us and throws her arms around me.
“Damn, Graham is a lucky man,” I tell her, and she instantly blushes.
“Whatever. I see you’re as big a flirt as ever.”
“How long are you going to be in town?” Erin asks.
“Not sure. Hopefully not too long,” I answer.
“Mom!” Langford’s booming voice cuts through the small talk, and I hear my mother’s voice as she makes her way down the hall.
“Langford, how many times have I told you not to yell for me? This is an office, not my kitchen,” she says and stops dead when she lays eyes on me. “Garrett,” she chokes out.
I hurry over to her and envelop her in my arms as she starts to cry.
“Hey, Mom,” I whisper into her hair.
She holds on to me for a long time before she pulls away.
“Let me look at you. Are you okay?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I assure her.
That is when she smacks me in my chest.
“You’ve had me worried sick. I thought you were coming home yesterday. Pierce called and told me to let him know the minute you arrived. Honestly, we were both about to lose our minds last night. Oh, I need to go text him,” she says as she turns back toward the hallway.
“Wait, Mom,” I say as I take her hand.
She turns to look at me.
“Where’s Pop?”
“He is out, picking up the new ATV he purchased for the maintenance staff. He’ll be back around five this evening.”
“On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you and Pop?” I ask.
“One thousand,” she answers.
“That’s what I thought,” I mumble.
She reaches up and cups my cheek. “But mainly, we’re just happy to have you home, safe and sound.”
I cover her hand with mine. “I’m really sorry it’s under these circumstances. I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I offer as a weak apology.
“Embarrass us? We weren’t embarrassed, son. We were worried. I don’t know what is going on in your life, but secret babies, bar fights, and drunk driving? That’s not you,” she tells me.
“I know. I’m here to get my head on straight. And the secret-baby story is false.”
She nods. “I learned a long time ago not to believe anything that was said or written about you unless I got it straight from the horse’s mouth—or Pierce’s. Now, follow me, and we’ll put his mind at ease. Then, you can fill me in,” she requests.
Great. I have a feeling I’m going to be recounting my last week over and over again. I should have typed up my own article and had it published in the local newspaper to save my vocal cords.
