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* * *
Anytime that they’d needed to go to town in the last few weeks they had taken Nicole’s truck. Now that Brendan was pulling up in front of the Silver Ridge diner with its steady stream of early morning customers, he had to admit that he felt kind of stupid driving his sleek, black luxury car around the place.
He guessed that those were the sorts of things he had to think about now; not whether his car was stylish or prestigious, but whether it was practical. He knew the answer already: no, it was the least practical vehicle in a one-hundred-mile radius. But he knew there wasn’t a car dealership in town, so buying something better seemed like it was going to be a bit more challenging. No wonder Tina thought he’d gone completely nuts — six months ago he would have been downright insulted if you’d told him his car was anything less than perfect.
Inane thoughts like this kept his mind occupied while he entered the diner and ordered some pastries and pie slices to go. The young girl behind the counter boxed them up slowly and methodically so that they didn’t get squashed. While Brendan waited patiently, because no one in Silver Ridge was ever in a rush, the older woman working was staring at him like she was trying to decode the Rosetta Stone. Brendan had gotten used to being stared at, just as Nicole had told him he would, but usually it was out of curiosity. This woman was staring at him with a special sort of intensity, and as the younger girl was bagging up his items, he couldn’t help himself any longer.
“Hello?” he asked. The woman, whose name tag readJenna, started, as if she hadn’t actually expected him to call her out.
“Oh, hi!” she said with a wide smile. “Sorry, I was just trying to figure out if you were who I thought you were.”
She seemed nice enough, but from the way the younger girl was shaking her head in mild exasperation, Brendan figured that maybe Jenna’s social skills weren’t exactly the best.
“You could ask?” Brendan suggested.
“Oh, I didn’t want to be rude.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So, you are the guy, right?”
Oh, good Lord…“The guy?”
“The guy who bought Green Acres farm?”
“Yep. That’s me, the guy.”
He took the offered bag from the young girl and was about to leave when Jenna said something that just confused him even more. “I told Nicole to pass on my thanks to you!”
Brendan stopped and watched her face practically beaming. “Pardon?”
“Nicole? Brooke. Young lady, very small, blonde.”
“Yep, yes, I know Nicole very well. But why were you telling her to pass on thanks to me? Thanks for what?”
“For the donation.”
It was still early; maybe this woman hadn’t had a coffee yet, despite working in a literal diner. He had to give her the benefit of the doubt somehow.
“Sorry, what donation?” Brendan asked, needing to get to the bottom of this otherwise it would haunt him forever.
“Men are forgetful creatures, aren’t you?” she tutted with a laugh. Brendan didn’t know if he should be insulted when it seemed like she was just a few screws loose.
“Uh, yeah, I suppose we are. So, how about you remind me — what exactly did I donate?”
“Well, Nicole came along and said you were donating a whole bunch of milk ’cause you’d just moved here, like a welcome gift of sorts, and there was so much of it that I wanted to make sure she’d passed on my thanks.”
Jenna was still beaming, but Brendan had gone very still inside, like the wind and waves dropping away before a tsunami. Several things clicked into place in quick succession. He’d always thought it was odd that there had beennoproduct at all when he’d first arrived, not a drop to be seen. Especially after he’d gotten to know how the creamery worked and the business side of things ran. But he hadn’t thought much more about it after that. He also remembered, crystal clear, the visceral tension between them at first, how she clearly hadn’t wanted him there at all. Almost like she resented him for buying the place.
Did she… had she tried to undermine him by just giving away all of the product? Had she really tried to bring it all down because if she couldn’t have the farm then neither could he?
All of these thoughts fell together in what felt like a nanosecond, Jenna still grinning at him, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d just thrown a stick of dynamite into his life.
“No problem,” he said, only wanting to leave. “Thanks.”
Before anything else could be said, he turned and walked out of the diner, throwing the bag of food onto the passenger seat, no longer hungry.
* * *
