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“Entertainment? Technology? Medicine? Thai food?” He chuckled. “I can think of a million things I’d miss if I was living off the grid.”
“Can you think of some things you’d be glad to be free of?”
He opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again. He tucked his hands in his pockets and waited for Bailey to tell him what to do next. This was clearly not how things normally worked for King. It was intriguing to her why he was fighting so hard against his natural instincts.
Boredom was something she’d learned to manage over the years, but every now and then the loneliness crept in. She wasn’t going to admit that to King, but his presence here felt pre-ordained. As though he’d arrived just in time, and something about that opened her to the idea of letting him unfold before her, rather than trying to understand him completely in this moment.
There wasn’t anyone her age in Cinderhill right now. There were some children, some young parents, but everyone else was over fifty. The people her age would usually come in with all the zest of creating a new life then leave a month or so later. She’d met some amazing people, but they were always just stopping temporarily. For young people who’d grown up with everything available at their fingertips and on demand, this transition was too hard. So Cinderhill was full of older people who’d grown up in simpler times and children who’d been born here and didn’t know better.
“Let’s get you a meal and a place to sleep tonight,” Bailey sang through a smile. “You can get back to the city and some Thai food by this time tomorrow.”
“Are you sure I’m allowed here?” He moved tentatively as a gaggle of children bounced by, playing a loud game of tag.
“What do you mean?” Bailey laughed and turned to face him. “What exactly do you think Cinderhill is?”
“Aren’t there rules? I feel like I’m intruding on something.”
“You’re a guest. Guests are always welcomed. There are some expectations of people who come to live here, but you’re not subject to those. You don’t need to muck the stalls or churn butter. Just enjoy the peace and quiet.”
He nodded, still looking uneasy. “Did you build these houses?” He eyed the small cinderblock homes that were all just a single room in a perfect square with a metal roof. Before she could answer they were interrupted.
“Who’s this, Bailey?” a voice called from one of the windows of the closest tiny house. Edna Barry peeked her head out and waved her hand wildly. “Bring him over here.”
“Edna, he ran out of gas. Don’t scare him into walking the thirty-two miles to the next gas station.”
“I don’t bite,” Edna teased.
“She literally bites,” Bailey cut back with a playful smile. Nothing was funnier in this moment than watching King try to decide what was true and what was a joke.
“Am I sleeping in there?” he whispered nervously.
“No, you’ll crash at Moe’s.”
“Does he bite?” King asked.
“Not on Tuesdays.”
“It’s Friday,” King corrected.
“Oh. Hmm, that’s right. Then maybe you’ll stay with Chad.” Throwing him a playful glance, she waited for his expression to soften.
“You’re screwing with me?”
“You asked what we do for entertainment? We mess with outsiders.”
“Outsiders?” King challenged.
“I’m kidding. We don’t talk about people like that. Cinderhill is welcoming.”
“But you wouldn’t want everyone coming here, right? The whole point is to keep it small and simple? Too many people like me would ruin it.”
“The good news is, very few people can commit to living this way. It’s not for everyone. You wouldn’t last a week.”
“Excuse me?” King stopped in his tracks. Just as Bailey suspected, he responded to a challenge. “I’ve lived in some pretty rough situations. A week here would be nothing.”
“You want to bet?” She extended her hand for a shake.
“Bet?” He looked down at her hand with his skeptically raised brow.
