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“We’ll need an arborist for that,” I say, strutting toward him. A much easier task to focus on than righting my wrongs. “They can cut it up and turn it into wood chips.”
“Sure, but…” Ben gets a hazy look in his dark eyes. “It’s a great shape—the way it protrudes in sections. I could carve a bear in the top half.”
“Or just a portrait of me.”
His lips quirk. Ben is a built Black man who would look at home on a sports field, but he’s a sculptor who started this artist co-op with other like-minded creators. “Too bad the gallery has investors, and I promised them we wouldn’t create anything terrifying.”
I attempt not to grin too wide.
At the start of WITSEC, I dwelled on what my old friends were doing, worried our disappearance knocked them for a loop. I obsessed over Jolene plenty, even though we were estranged by then, unsure if losing Jake and me in one night devastated her. Eventually, I decided worrying was for the weak.
I’m good with money and investing. Over the years, I built my savings, made discreet contacts in Houston. Found ways to keep tabs on the people I love. Ben has no idea I’m the silent partner financing his art gallery. My family doesn’t know I hired a woman living in Windfall to do my bidding as needed. Why stress over the happiness of those you love when you can use a spy to ensure their success?
“I’m glad your investors are keeping you on your toes,” I tell Ben, pleased my shell company has helped him realize his dreams. “Plus, people love a good story. When this is carved, tell prospective buyers the tree was about to crash down and you saved a child stuck in the branches before it fell. It’ll cause a bidding war.”
“That would be lying.”
“Or just a creator creating.”
“Or lying,” he says on a laugh and slaps my back. “If I haven’t said it enough, it’s great having you home.”
I’m not sure Windfall feels quite like home yet, but my old friends have welcomed me back into their fold, and the beauty of this area is undeniable. From our vantage point, I can see the Rough Ridge Mountains in the distance. Corner Creek meanders behind the former train station, with a tranquil forest on the far side. A welcome contrast to the polluted hustle of Houston, but it’s not the landscape and quaintness that gives me this sense of peace I haven’t felt in twelve years.
It’s watching Lennon, who’s outside now with his girlfriend, Maggie, the two of them laughing as they toss broken branches at each other. My youngest brother, E, has shown up with Delilah, and I swear I never thought I’d see him smile this wide again. Even Desmond is here. He’s still snarly and grumbly, but the spark of affection in his eyes as he tosses his son over his shoulder and holds his soon-to-be-wife, Sadie’s, hand like he can’t live without her…well, I’m downright moved.
Thisis my purpose—securing my family’s happiness. This is why I don’t leave life to chance. And why I plan to do everything in my power to reunite Jake and Jolene.
“Javier’s moving later this week.” Ben grabs lopping shears to cut a longer branch. “If you’re free, we could use another hand.”
I mentally review my commitments—building Mr. Elroy’s new deck, the Liang fence, renovating the Rosen kitchen with Jake, adding a garage and granny suite for the Whites with him too. There won’t be much sleep in my future, but Javier was part of our posse back in the day. I haven’t seen much of him since my return. “Count me in.”
“Sweet. I should see if Jolene can come too.”
“Nope,” I blurt and launch a branch sideways.
Dammit.
Ben straightens and leans on his shears. “You don’t want Jolene there, or Jolene’s busy?”
“The latter, I assume. She’s busy running her bar.”
“Why do you assume?”
“Because it makes an ass out of U and Me?”
He huffs out an I’m-not-buying-what-you’re-selling laugh. “Amusing, but you two used to be inseparable. Iassumedyou picked up where you left off.”
We left off with me shutting Jolene out through no fault of her own. So, he’s not wrong. Things are as uncomfortable as ever. “We’re fine. Some friendships just don’t last the test of time. Not that we’renotfriends. We just aren’t as close as we were.”
He stares at me like I’m that tree trunk, my true form hidden under layers of gnarled bark.
When his unwavering attention gets too much, I punch his shoulder. “I should check on the other helpers. Send me Javier’s moving details.”
I swivel before he replies, unsure where it’s safe to work. I need a Jolene-free zone. Somewhere I can focus without everyone getting in my business. I spot a couple of older ladies attempting to pick up the heavy Yard Goat Gallery sign and march toward them.
But Jolene Daniels, Ruiner of My Serenity, steps in my way.
“You’re avoiding me,” she says pointedly and blows a wayward strand of hair from her eyes. She was never one to beat around the bush.
