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I turn to face her, shocked. “You don’t?”
“No. He seemed fine today. I told you he’s always friendly to the people in town, and the few times I’ve seen him, he’s been super nice to Bryce and me.”
“By that, you mean super phony and a fraud. He’s not nice.”
“I don’t know, I’ve been living in this town longer than the two of you, and I’ve never heard anyone say anything bad about him.”
I scoff and move to the wind chimes.
“Maybe it’s just you.” Avery laughs, her eyes twinkling like she’s in on a private joke that I’m not privy to.
Maybe it is just me, but why? Usually, people love me, and other than the screaming the night we met, I haven’t done anything wrong for him to react to me the way he has. Images of him scowling at me in my yard and at his front door flash through my mind.
“Do either of you know anything about him?” I ask, picking up a small chime with a dragonfly on it and suddenly feeling the need to know some dirt on him.
“Have you looked him up or looked at any of his social media pages?” Avery asks.
“He doesn’t strike me as the type of person to post on Instagram.” I place the wind chime on the cart.
It suddenly occurs to me that while I have been keeping shovels and tools on the back porch, I need a shed. I’m actually surprised the house doesn’t have one. Maybe it did at one point, but they got rid of it when they decided to sell.
“Well, he doesn’t, but Cole does. Cole Mahoney works for him. He’s a very nice guy, just got married and his wife is one of Bryce’s teachers. Cole runs sales and marketing for the orchard. I follow the orchard, and I think there’s a lot of information about him. A few news articles will pop up, too, with awards he’s won for his ciders and the different charitable contributions he’s made around town.”
“He also doesn’t strike me as the type of guy to hand out money.” I glance at Avery.
“I think he comes from money,” Juliet says.
“Perfect. Another strike in his column. I’ve known enough guys who come from money over the years to know that they are not worth the effort. Arrogant, always think they’re right, and better than everyone else. No, thank you.”
“I don’t know. I feel like we’re stereotyping him, and we don’t even know him,” Avery says, waving her hand in the air at a bee that’s come too close to her. I hear what she’s saying because I’m certain I could be stereotyped too.
But still.
“If he comes from money, then I know enough. Don’t forget, money is my world.”
Just thinking about Winston and some of his friends I’ve endured over the years causes my stomach to clench from nausea. I know my parents don’t realize this, but sending me to Juilliard and not some elite Ivy League college was one of the best things they’ve ever done. Being surrounded by people my age who didn’t care about surname financial portfolios and whose yacht is bigger was like discovering a whole new world.
“What we need to do is come up with more pranks,” I tell them, feeling a renewed purpose after our run-in with him this morning. “He may think I’m just some helpless woman after how we met that first night, but I’m not.”
Returning the hospitality. I’ll show him hospitality.
“We could butter his steps,” Avery says like it’s the most common thing ever.
Juliet and I both turn to look at her. “Butter his steps?”
I try to picture myself with a large tub of butter and rubber gloves, scooping out the butter and smearing it across his steps.
“Yeah, so when he walks out, he slips and falls.”
Juliet and I laugh.
“Oh my God, but what if he hurts himself? I don’t think I want to take it that far.”
Or worse yet, what if that sweet little lady Jane was to attempt entering the house, and she slipped and fell. That would be awful.
Avery just shrugs.
“Oh, I know,” Juliet says, all excited. “We could put a For Sale sign at the base of the road. I could also hang a listing in the window at the office on Main Street and maybe a few flyers around town.”
