Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
Theo
Present Day
Thirty-Two Years Old
“ S even dollars ?!” Julia Ripton remarked, holding her hands to her chest as if I’d told her that her dog had died in a tragic accident. “Are you joking? That’s highway robbery.”
“That’s a fair deal,” I confirmed as I stood behind my booth at the farmers’ market. My grandparents and I had been running that booth for well over ten years outside of our family restaurant that had been around for over forty years, and somehow, Julia Ripton seemed to be shocked at our prices each week. Sure, we raised our prices by fifty cents on the sourdough loaves a few weeks ago, but with the way things were going in the world, everything was more expensive. Seven dollars for a full loaf of homemade rosemary and cheddar sourdough bread seemed more than reasonable.
“Patty is selling it for five dollars at her booth,” Julia mentioned as she rubbed her hand against her chin. “Two for nine, even.”
“You better go get in on that deal,” I replied dryly. I wasn’t interested in the back-and-forth with her. We’d done the back-and-forth last week about the fifty-cent increase. And the week prior to that. Plus, I’d hardly slept the night before, seeing how I was out on the water longer than I should’ve been.
The last thing I needed after a night of catching hardly any fish was Julia Ripton complaining about bread prices. I knew my grandparents were professionals at the whole peopling thing, but damn… I hated people. They were too peopley for my liking. I much preferred my solitude, but it turned out that sitting on a boat twenty-four hours a day didn’t pay the bills. Unfortunately, I still had to go to work.
“I don’t like your attitude, Theo. Where’s your grandmother? I bet Molly would give me a good deal,” Julia declared.
She wasn’t wrong, either. Grandma had a way of running our business exactly how you’d think a ma-and-pa shop in a small town would be run—as if it were a charity. For two weeks while I was sick with the flu, Grandma ran the booth and the restaurant with PaPa. Somehow, we ended up with a negative income. They literally gave money away because someone in town told them a sob story about how they fell behind on their electricity bill. PaPa also went out and bought them a week’s supply of groceries.
Freaking Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
“Julia, there’s a line of people behind you. Either buy the bread or go get Patty’s,” I said as I glanced at the line forming behind her. We’d easily sell out of everything like we always did. And even with Julia throwing a fit, she’d still buy the damn bread because we’ve both tasted Patty’s sourdough before. I had a feeling dog kibble was softer than that stuff.
“Fine,” she grumbled as she pulled out her pocketbook. “But this is getting ridiculous. The prices of everything are going up, yet our jobs aren’t paying us any more money. It’s a shame.” She then glanced at the loaves of bread. “Give me two loaves. One rosemary, one apple cinnamon. Oh, and your grandpa’s honey. And two pounds of perch.”
I rang her up. “Forty dollars.”
“ Forty dollars ?!” she remarked, gasping for air. “Are you joking? That’s highway robbery!”
I sighed.
And round and round we go.
“Pay it or move on, woman,” Dale said behind her in line. He worked down at the auto shop and was the biggest grump in town, after me, at least. Dale gave me a good run for my money on the grump scale, though. I liked him for that very reason. He was well into his sixties and didn’t take shit from anyone. Not even Julia Ripton and her complaining self. “Ain’t nobody got time for your dramatic shock over prices. So either move on or pay the damn boy.”
Julia flipped around toward Dale and huffed as if in shock. “Oh, bite me, Dale Stone.”
“I have before. Didn’t like the taste,” he flatly replied.
I almost smirked, but I was too uninterested to bother.
Nothing like a divorced couple being in line with one another.
With annoyance, Julia paid me and gathered her goods before heading off in a huff.
“Can’t believe I was married to that woman for thirty years,” Dale stated as he stepped up to the table. “I can still hear her yapping in my nightmares.” He nodded once. “Got any more perch and bluegills?”
“Yup.”
“Give me three pounds of each. And two loaves of sourdough.”
I rang him up, and he paid without a moment of hesitation. He even tipped an extra ten. I gave him a nod as a thank you for the tip. He nodded back and went on his way.
Dale was my favorite kind of person. He kept to himself, and when someone pissed him off, he told them they pissed him off, then he went back to minding his own business. It wasn’t shocking that he and Julia didn’t work out because she was a professional at minding all the business that wasn’t hers.
I ended up selling out on everything that afternoon. That wasn’t shocking. I wasn’t a rich man by any means, but my grandparents and I did pretty well with our small-town restaurant business. Some folks said I should’ve moved to a bigger area where I could’ve made a better living, but I didn’t need much. I had a roof over my head and a boat at my dock—what more could I ask for? I didn’t crave the things other people craved. I didn’t crave money or fame. Hell, I didn’t even crave friendships. I just wanted to be left alone.
After packing up my table, I tossed everything into the back of my Yukon truck, then headed toward the driver’s door to head over to my grandparents. As I approached my door, I saw a familiar person, who I wished weren’t familiar, leaning up against my car.
I was already over the conversation she was about to drag me into before her mouth even moved.
“Kaitlin,” I said with a nod, moving toward the driver’s door.
She smiled her warm grin and combed her hand through her strawberry-blond hair. Definitely not the color she was born with, but Kaitlin was good at a few things. Coloring hair was at the top of her list. “Hey you. You haven’t answered my calls.”
“No shit.”
“Want to grab a bite to eat?”
“Nah.” I went to pull my door open, and she stepped in front of it to block it. I did my best not to roll my eyes. “I have a busy afternoon ahead, Kaitlin.”
She pouted. “I miss you, Theo.”
“Yeah, well, you should’ve thought about that before you cheated on me.”
Kaitlin and I didn’t date for long. I should’ve never gone out with her, either. I wasn’t interested in relationships, but my grandparents were convinced I’d die alone if I didn’t put myself out there. Still, I didn’t put myself out there. Dying alone didn’t sound so bad. And if you thought about it, everyone died alone. You didn’t take anyone into the afterlife with you. That was a solo mission.
It was Grandma who gave my number to Kaitlin and told her I’d go out with her.
I didn’t have enough balls to tell her no, so we kept going out for a few months. If I could’ve gone back in time, I would’ve told Kaitlin to lose my number. I’d already lost hers.
Kaitlin’s pout grew more dramatic. “It was only once and hardly counts as cheating, Theo.”
I arched an eyebrow. “You slept with my cousin.”
“It’s not a big deal. Peter sleeps with everyone.”
As if that made it any better.
“Besides, it’s not like you were putting out for me. We’d never even kissed. You know, rumors are going around that you might still be a virgin. I’m just trying to prove the people wrong.”
I stared blankly at her for a second.
Without another word, I opened my truck door, climbed inside, and shut it.
I headed over to my grandparents and found them sitting on their back porch. Grandma was drinking a glass of wine as PaPa sat in his wheelchair. He’d been in that chair for the past year. Lately, his health had been declining, and it was the hardest thing to watch. He couldn’t leave the house most of the time, and they hired a caregiver to look after him.
My grandfather was dying.
That was the hardest truth I’d ever had to face. The hardest part of growing up was watching your heroes grow older, too. It did a number on one’s psyche.
We hadn’t had the outright conversations about PaPa’s declining health, but I figured we all knew what was happening. He was ninety years old and had lived a great life. We all knew he didn’t have many years ahead of him, but still… I prayed for more time.
My grandparents didn’t let the impending future scare them, though. They sat on that porch, giggling with one another like they were two kids falling in love for the first time. That wasn’t shocking; those two always seemed to behave like kids falling in love. Maybe that was why I wasn’t bothered when things ended with Kaitlin. I never laughed with her like that. She just thought we looked good in photos together. It all seemed a bit superficial. Plus, now I had a feeling she and her friends were just trying to “get the thirty-year-old virgin” checked off their bucket list.
After I made it over to my grandparents’ place, I cooked dinner for them. We sat at their dining room table, as we did every night. PaPa talked about the Brewers’ baseball stats while Grandma asked me if I’d be attending church service with her on Sunday. She always asked. I never went. It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God or anything even though he sure did piss me off sometimes, but I never thought I’d find him in a church. I’d always found him on the water when it was just nature surrounding me.
“Don’t forget, Theo. My friend is coming to stay tomorrow. You still have space for her?”
“Yup,” I replied. My grandparents lived in a two-bedroom tiny home—by choice. I’d tried to upgrade their home for years now, but they said they loved the small space. I grew up in their spare room, but now it was a space that PaPa’s caregiver used.
So I offered up the spare room in my place for her friend to stay, and by offered up, I meant Grandma told her friend that she could stay with me before asking me. I hated the idea of it, but I didn’t complain. My grandparents raised me. The least I could do was allow one of their friends to crash at my place for the summer.
In a few weeks, Grandma and PaPa were having a big anniversary party, and Grandma kept going on and on about how her friend would come up and plan it all out for them. The party was also taking place on my property, and so many people would attend because my grandparents were professionals at making friends with anyone and everyone who crossed their paths. The theme was Alice in Wonderland —Grandma’s favorite story. PaPa went along with the theme because whatever Grandma wanted, she got. It’d been that way since I was a kid. And Grandma always wanted batty, colorful parties. She’d even talked about how hers and PaPa’s funerals should look as far away from funerals as possible. “ Lots of color and music ,” she’d said. “ And shots of whiskey ,” PaPa would add in.
Anything with Molly Langford near it would always be vibrant. Especially their anniversary party.
I was already dreading hosting it.
I was dreading having a summer roommate even more. Like I said, I liked my solitude.
A few years ago, when Grandma went to visit her sister in Chicago, she met a friend at a crocheting class. They’d been pen pals ever since, writing one another handwritten letters each month. Leave it to my grandmother to still be making friends in her late eighties. She invited said friend to stay all summer.
The whole. Fucking. Summer.
Her friend agreed.
Which meant I’d spend the next three months living with some old lady who still sent snail mail like it was a normal thing. It must’ve been nice to be retired and able to spend your whole summers wherever you pleased.
I prayed each day that the woman wasn’t a yapper.
I didn’t have the time or energy to listen to an old woman talk about crocheting and soap operas. My hope was that she’d spend most of her time at my grandparents’ house, then go to bed at three in the afternoon so she’d hardly cross my path. That was the best-case scenario in my mind.
The worst?
Yap, yap, fucking yap .
After dinner that night with my grandparents, I’d do what I did every night during the summer months. I’d pack my tackle box, grab my fishing poles, and go sit on my boat for hours into the night. I’d always bring a book with me, too, since the fish were nonexistent some nights. Then I’d do the same thing the next day. I liked my life. It wasn’t much, but it was simple.
It was quiet.
I loved the quiet.
For a long time, I felt lonely growing up. I didn’t have friends and grew up getting bullied, which led to me leaning into two things: fishing and books. Sometimes books about fishing. Even after I was an adult, I still held on to my private life. Growing up, I spent a lot of time in the gym bulking up because it was easier not to get beat up if I had enough muscles to fight back. Grandpa used to chew me out for getting into so many fights as a teenager, but when I finally broke down and told him the reason for the fights, he signed me up for karate courses.
I haven’t had to fight in years, though. I thanked the muscles for that. Though I found it hard to connect with people in town, especially the ones who tried to pretend they weren’t complete dicks to me growing up—both the women and men. It amazed me how much bullies had amnesia when it came to the bullshit way they’d treated people.
I wondered if they remembered how they used to shove my head into the toilets at school whenever they’d show up at the farmers’ market to request a deal on salmon. Or how they used to call me St-st-stuttering Theo throughout high school when they had enough nerve to ask me out on a date nowadays. One thing was true about Kaitlin—she never bullied me when we were kids. She did sleep with my cousin, though, so that was enough for me to remove her from my life.
None of that mattered, though, because I wasn’t that scared little boy anymore, and I wasn’t really interested in looking for love. I’d already found my favorite love story.
That love story was me on the water.
Sitting on my boat.
Reading my book.
With a braided fishing line resting in the water.
Everything was fine and dandy until around two in the morning when I heard a giant splash not too far from where my boat sat.