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I chuckled. “More personal than me telling you I recently spent time in a psych ward?”
She smiled. “Are you single?”
My eyes dropped to my left hand. It was a lot lighter these days without the giant rock I’d worn for almost a year. “I am.”
She leaned closer, like she was telling me a secret. “So is your neighbor, Fox Cassidy. You two would make a very cute couple.”
“Oh gosh.” I chuckled. “Fox and I have met. I don’t think he’s my biggest fan.”
She waved me off. “Eh. Whatever he did to give you that idea is just Fox being Fox. The man is a coconut. Hard shell on the outside, but soft and sweet on the inside.”
My brows shot up. “Fox? Soft and sweet inside?”
Opal smiled. “I know. Hard to believe, right? But it’s the truth. Trust me, I’ve been working for him for a long time.”
“What is it that Fox does?”
“He’s a builder, mostly commercial stuff. But he also coaches a hockey team—a team for people with disabilities. Many of the kids have cerebral palsy or Down syndrome. A few have competed in the Special Olympics and Paralympics. And he does all that work for free. Without telling people about it, too, I might add.”
“Wow, really?”
“Yep. Stick around long enough, and I’m sure you’ll get to meet some of them. On the weekends I sometimes see him having lunch with guys on the team, or he’ll be out running in the street with one or two he’s giving extra training to.”
Huh. I never would’ve guessed Mr. Grumpy Pants was so giving. Though it did kind of make sense with the way he’d carried my suitcases in, even after I’d smashed his mailbox. And the way he’d hauled over all of my sheetrock when I’d had it delivered to the wrong address. There was a gentleman buried underneath that grunting exterior. It reminded me of something my dad used to say, something I hadn’t thought of in a long time.“Boys speak. A gentleman doesn’t have to; he acts.”
A few minutes later, an older woman wearing a black polo with Rita’s Beanery embroidered on it walked over to our table. She tied a long apron around her waist as she spoke. “Hey, Opal. How you doing? Katie told me you were looking for me.”
“Oh hi, Bernadette. I want to introduce you to someone. This is Josie Preston. Her momma and daddy lived here in Laurel Lake. He’s a year older than you, and she’s two years younger, so I thought you might know them.”
“Oh?” Bernadette looked over at me and winked. “Is your dad forty-nine too?”
Opal scoffed. “You’ve got varicose veins older than forty-nine.”
Bernadette waved Opal off, then tapped her finger to her lip. “Preston. Preston. Your dad wouldn’t be Henry Preston, would he?”
I smiled. “He is. And my mom was Melanie Langone.”
“Your mom I don’t recall. But oh my gosh, Henry Preston. I haven’t heard that name in years.” She gazed off like she was visualizing a memory. “Handsome Henry. He played the snare drum in the marching band. Had those pretty bright blue eyes. All the cheerleaders had a crush on him, but he was kind of oblivious about it. He was voted best looking in our class yearbook.”
“Really? Wow. He never mentioned that.”
Bernadette looked into my eyes. “You’ve got the same peepers.”
I smiled. “People have always told me I look like my dad.”
“How is your pop doing?”
“He passed away a long time ago.”
Her face fell. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hear.”
“Thank you.”
“Josie is staying over on Rosewood Lane,” Opal said. “The house old Mrs. Wollman lived in.”
“The hoarder? That’s right. I forgot the Prestons owned that house.”
“My dad left it to me when he died.”
