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Chapter 9
Kennedy
I bangedout of Liam’s house behind the boys.He’d returned only yesterday, and the first farmers market was tonight.We’d kept in touch the weeks he was gone, but my days had been blessedly busy.I had summer school in the morning.A couple afternoons a week, I took Eli to his therapy and read books to Owen in the waiting room or took him on a walk on the bike path beside the center.
At night, I ripped up old laminate.It was sweaty, dirty work.Between my home improvement project and the walks I took in the morning before work or with Owen, my muscles were peeking out where I hadn’t seen them in, really, ever.
I’d been looking forward to mowing my lawn, but Bruce had done it while I was teaching one morning.I’d asked him not to again, tacked on that I liked lawn care and the smell of freshly cut grass.
He’d done it anyway.Claimed that since I was working now, he wanted to make sure I didn’t have additional stress.Sweet, but frustrating.
He didn’t realize that being in my yard decompressed the stress.One of the local pastors and her husband next door chatted across the fence with me if we were outside at the same time.The elderly couple on the other side weren’t moving around as well as when I’d last seen them, and the wife, Ruth, had invited me in for tea after I helped her put all her potted petunias back upright.The wind had knocked three pots into my yard.She’d recommended easy-to-care-for flowers when I’d admitted to being a newbie with plants.A seventh grader I’d taught two years ago lived down the street, and he’d stopped to tell me all about middle school.
I liked being outside and wanted more reasons to hang out in my yard.
Bruce must’ve noticed my efforts with the lawn.He razed through the beds with a small tiller and destroyed any annuals that might’ve bloomed again.I knew he was doing what he’d do for Willow—till up the beds before her annual greenhouse shopping spree, but I had different plans.Ruth had lived here long enough to know everyone’s flowers.She named them and told me how to thin them out.She’d noticed they were thick last year, but I doubted they’d grow back after Bruce’s attempts to help.
His heart was in the right place.That knowledge tempered my anger.But June was my new favorite month.It used to be December.Cozy with Christmas, giving presents, getting gifts from Derek.The last two Christmases had been brutal, and while I was optimistic for it this year, I was all in with June.Lawns were green, and rain showers washed away all the dirt that had collected over the snow in the winter.
Flowers bloomed in my neighbors’ yards and around town.I couldn’t afford to drop a ton of cash on new flowers.I guessed I’d have to see what I could do with a couple packets of seeds and Ruth’s knowledge.Life was happening again, and I wanted to be out enjoying it.
After I had planted a few bucks’ worth of wildflower seeds, I had started demolition on the kitchen floor, directing all my irritation toward old laminate.
I banished thoughts of my in-laws when I found Liam in the shop, loading his pickup.“Is that everything?”
We had slipped into our good-friends routine since he’d returned.We discussed our daily lives and the farmers market, but we hadn’t done more than that.Our talk in the park hadn’t hit reset, but we hadn’t had the opportunity for more either.It wasn’t the relief I’d expected.Part of the feelings I purged with the flooring might’ve been the needy desire that reignited every time I remembered the solid wall of him behind me and the way he seemed to know my body better than I did.
He put a hand on the tailgate, his expression pensive.“You think she’ll be there?”
When Liam had learned that the director of the farmers market was his half sister, Isla Barron, I’d done the footwork for him to reserve the booth.No use starting drama if there didn’t need to be any.I hadn’t exactly lied, but I’d put my name down as the contact for Pewter Creations.He’d decided on the name, honoring his grandparents, but also as a play on the metalwork he offered.His items weren’t pewter, but the locals—and, more importantly, his half sister—wouldn’t initially put the two together.
Isla was a gentle soul as far as I’d heard.A little bit of a pampered princess, but sweet.She might not hinder Liam’s ability to sell his wares, but Bruce and Cameron would.They were so close to successfully driving Liam away for good, they wouldn’t give up.Liam hadn’t listed the house yet.Since the Barrons were likely going to be the buyers, wanting the house in case Evander really did move home, Grandma Gin had said to wait, just as long as it sold before winter.It’d give her more time to stomachthat familyliving on the land she’d cared for most of her life.
“If she is, she’ll be professional.And if your booth is a success, it’ll make her look good.It’ll be fine.”It had to be fine.This was my idea.I didn’t want to be the one who thrust Liam headlong into needless conflict.Maybe we should’ve tried a market in a different town.Spent the extra time and gas money to keep him from getting hurt.
He flipped his hat off and scratched his head as he considered the load in his pickup: the barstools, two individual stools made from the tractor seats, the end tables, and my favorite lamp.“I don’t have much to offer.”
“The evening market is only a couple of hours.”I smiled at him.“Enough time to show off Pewter Creations.”
“Enough time to get run out of town.”
“There are plenty of non-Barrons here who will love to buy this stuff.”
His dubious look made me wonder for the hundredth time if we were doing the right thing.I gave myself a mental shake.The right thing was letting others enjoy his beautiful work.It shouldn’t matter what his last name was.
“This is your town too,” I added stubbornly.For a little while longer.
The corner of his mouth lifted.“Then I guess it’s time to show them that I’m a lot like my dad.Cocky and full of denial.”
I barked out a laugh.The boys ran into the shop.
“Load up,” Liam told them.
My nerves rose the closer to town we got.I’d packed sandwiches for the kids.Liam and I would eat after we got home.He didn’t admit it, but his nerves would probably make any food taste like wood.
We didn’t see Isla.The young supervisor we were directed to was barely out of high school.When Liam gave her his name, she blinked.Hopefully, she was too young to realize Liam wasthatBarron.
After we were shown where to set up, he backed his pickup up to his booth.We got cursory glances from the rest of the sellers.The June market wasn’t loaded with produce yet.I recognized a few people from around town.One booth had several varieties of lettuce and leafy greens that must have been herbs.The couple working the booth had two kids in elementary school, but I hadn’t had them in class.Another booth displayed various soaps, many made from goat milk.There was a flavored-popcorn booth—all organic, and another with products made from honey: glosses, lotions, and balms.
