AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sit.” He ordered and pointed to the vintage table in the middle of the kitchen. “I’ve got some running around to do before I get to the garage. Jack will drive you into town after he’s done his chores.”
Chores? Zeesh. I had gone back in time.
I nodded and slipped into a chair, folding my foot underneath me. A shrill ring came from the stocky man’s pocket and he pulled out a modern-day cellphone. It looked so out of place in the kitchen that could’ve been featured on one of those ‘this house hasn’t been touched in fifty years’ kind of show on HGTV. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror beside the rotary phone that hung on the wall, and I looked as out of place in that kitchen as Bob Lumber’s iphone.
“Hello.” Bob barked into the phone. “I told ya. I’m on my way.” I wondered if he always sounded pissed off, or if it was just him. Gruff and to the point.
“Bye.” I lifted my hand to wave, but Bob had already slammed the door behind him.
The coffee was the best I’d tasted in years, and I held the mug in both my hands as I peered through the frosty window, wondering if I’d be able to catch a glimpse of Jack doing his chores – whatever that meant. My stomach growled and reminded me that I hadn’t eaten dinner the night before. The muffins were calling my name. I picked one from the cooling rack and held it to my nose and inhaled before peeling off the Christmas tree paper themed muffin paper accordioned around the base.
“Stop.” A voice boomed behind me as I was about to take a bite.
I turned to see Jack standing in the mudroom, kicking snow off his ridiculously huge boots. “What? Why?” I was confused.
“That’s not how you do it.” He stepped out of his boots and walked towards me, holding his hand like a traffic cop directing traffic.
“Do what?”
His dark brown hair flicked out from under his wool hat. I realized that he’d been wearing the hat the night before and I found myself wondering what his hair looked like underneath it. Was he balding prematurely or did he have a glorious head of hair to match the scruffy locks that I could see?
“Put down the muffin.” A grin spread across his face. I paused and gingerly set the muffin on the counter.
He padded next to me in his wool socks, and slid a dish across the counter. “You can’t eat one of those without butter.” He took the muffin I’d started to unwrap, cut it in half and tucked a pat of butter inside, then made up a second one in exactly the same way.
“Cheers.” He handed me the muffin and tapped his to mine.
I took a bite, and like the butter – melted. “Oh my God. You weren’t kidding. This butter, it’s incredible.”
“My mom churns it.”
I blinked and then set the muffin on its wrapper and washed down my bite with a sip of coffee. “Your mom what now?”
“The butter.” He held up his muffin. “She makes it.”
“I know what churning is.” I looked up at him over the top of my mug. “How does she have time? She works at the diner and is some kind of modern-day homesteader in her time off?”
Jack poured himself a cup of coffee and pulled out a chair, gesturing for me to sit. He slid a small plate in front of me with another muffin, set the butter dish in between us and joined me at the table. “My mom and dad own the diner and the garage. She fills in when staff need time off, and at Christmas, she fills in a lot.”
My respect for Muriel grew exponentially. I definitely couldn’t include her in my story. Unless she also murdered people on the side. Then I might be able to include her in my seedy small-town expose.
Jack’s eyes were the same color as his icy blue t-shirt. Yet, for such a cool color, like his parent’s eyes, his had a warmth to them. The crinkles next to Jack’s eyes weren’t as established as his mother’s, but told me that he had done some smiling in the past… I guessed thirty or so years. But the weathered skin could’ve put him closer to forty – I couldn’t tell.
“How did you sleep?” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms over his head.
“Better than you it would seem.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “Someone was in my bed.”
“I’m sorry about that. I could’ve slept on the sofa.”
“Ah,” he swatted my comment away with his stop sign hand and then poured himself another cup of coffee. He held up the carafe.
“Please.” I slid my mug across the table and he filled it up.
“What are you doing in Chance Rapids?” he asked as he sat down. “I’m guessing you’re not here for opening day of the ski resort.”
“What makes you say that?” I gripped my mug and waited.
