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“I teach woodshop. They’re showing promise.” I bite back a smile as I turn to the kids again. “I hope to see you in my class when you get to high school.”
Noah, the older one, nods, while Aiden speaks through a mouthful of potato chips. “Can I make a saxophone? That’s what I want to play when I get to fifth grade.”
I shake my head sadly. “Sorry, only guitars. And ukuleles. I’ve never seen a wooden saxophone.”
The kid’s face wrinkles in disappointment, then brightens. “Maybe I’ll be the first.”
“Aiden, don’t talk with your mouth full!” Stella heaves a sigh. “Do you see what I have to deal with?”
“They’re boys, Stella.” Mick looks at his beer-sprinkled burger, then shrugs and picks it up.
“They’re boys with a psychopath for a father. If you hadn’t given them the idea, they would have never come up with it.”
I glance at Mick. “Did you have a roadkill cemetery as a kid?”
“We did all kinds of things back in Wisconsin. I was just trying to get them outside.” He taps the edge of his phone. “Gotta cut down on the screen time any way we can.”
“We do not have to encourage our children to collect dead rodents to keep them off the computer.” Stella glares, but the twitching of her lips makes it obvious she’s not really angry. “In fact, we have several bathrooms that need to be cleaned, if they’re looking for gross jobs.”
The boys give each other a startled look, then shake their heads. Noah grabs his half empty plate. “No, ma’am, we’re good. We’re going to go play now.” He darts toward the closest garbage can.
Aiden shoves a few more chips in his mouth, then follows his brother.
Stella waves them off, rolling her eyes. “Like I’d let them near my bathroom. They can clean their own, though.” She downs the rest of her beer and shoves the plastic mug at her husband. “And you can get me another drink, instigator.”
Mick puts down his burger and gets to his feet, shaking his head. “Good thing I brought my credit card to this free barbeque.”
Stella watches her husband move into the beer line, then turns back to me. She leans close, her voice low. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Nick Holmes is back at the Ranch.”
I sit up a little straighter. Stella never spills the tea on Ranch residents. Why is she telling me this? “He hasn’t been seen here since the wedding.”
She curls her fingers in a “come closer” gesture. I lean across the table, barely able to hear her words. “He had some kind of medical incident.” She sits back and raises her brows.
“A heart attack? Is he okay?” I do a quick google search, but this news hasn’t been made public.
Stella wags her hand back and forth. “I saw him arrive the other day. He’s got a caretaker with him. A man. The property manager requested a guest pass for him the day Nick arrived. But there’s no sign of Mrs. Holmes.” She wrinkles her nose in sympathy. “Or Nica. Poor guy’s basically alone.”
“She may not be aware he’s been ill. She said they don’t communicate particularly well, and it didn’t make any of the celebrity news sites. Besides, she’s been in Georgia.”
“How do you know that?” Stella arches a brow at me. “Have you been keepin’ up on our famous resident? Or did she tell you?” Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Has she been in touch?”
“No.” I pick up my bratwurst, avoiding her gaze. “She hasn’t contacted me.” It feels like the whole town knows my business. Over the last three months, I’ve gotten questions, congratulations, and even jealousy as the rumors of my “relationship” with Nica spread. I acknowledge that I attended the wedding with her—there’s no way to deny that, since too many locals worked the event—but offer no details. And every time someone has brought it up, the little stab of pain has lessened. A little.
I know, it’s stupid to feel loss over a relationship that never happened. But I’ve been a fan for so long, my imagination built our brief encounter into a whole romantic story. And let’s face it, a steady diet of Romance Channel rom-coms and Hallmark movies probably hasn’t been the best choice. That’s why I went cold turkey last month. Today marks my twentieth day without seeing Nica. And I’m feeling a lot better. Until now. I take a deep breath and let it out. I’m over her. Really.
“Sorry.” Stella pats my hand. “She seems like a lovely girl, but you live different lives.”
“And she’s way too young for me.”
Stella laughs. “You went to that wedding. There is no such thing as ‘too young for me’ in Hollywood.” Her eyes dart toward the beer stall. Mick has finally gotten two more and is headed toward us. She leans back in her chair. “Anyway, I thought you should know. About Nick Holmes. I know you won’t tell anyone.”
“Thanks.” Why did she think I should know? I didn’t even meet the guy. And obviously his daughter isn’t rushing to his side. Time to change the subject. “How are your rehearsals coming?”
Stella takes the beer from her husband. “I’m not sure Maria is going to make it. That girl has a voice like an angel, but she cannot remember her lines. Good thing they got an understudy.” She smiles.
“You?” I hadn’t realized Stella was vying for the main role in the town’s annual Sound of Music production. “Aren’t you a little—” I break off, not sure how I’m going to say this without getting slapped again. Or possibly murdered in my sleep and buried in a roadkill cemetery.
Her eyes narrow into icy slits. “Am I what? Too old? Too curvy? Too talented?” Her soft, southern drawl takes on a hard edge.
