5. Georgia
Georgia
The late afternoon sun finally dipped behind the thick treeline, casting long shadows over the field.
The Fourth of July crowd had thinned out, everyone on their way to the town festival, leaving the roadside stand quiet.
I leaned my hip against the wooden counter, blowing a loose strand of hair out of my face. We had cleared the shelves, and I estimated that there was close to three thousand dollars in my little cash box right now.
All the blackberry pies, jars of jam, and bottles of goat milk were gone. The only item remaining was a half-eaten bag of blackberries that Paul and I had been munching on all day.
“We should have saved a pie for us,” I told him, exhausted but exhilarated all at once.
“Maybe we’ll need to bake our own pie,” he rumbled, somehow making it sound like he’d said something sexy.
“I’d like that. Let’s bake two pies. That way you can eat as much as you want.”
He chuckled. “Smart woman.”
I looked down at my hands as his arms wrapped around me from behind. They were covered in blackberry stains.
Today had been perfect.
And somehow, I couldn’t believe this was the end for the little roadside stand. I was going to miss it. Just like I’d miss Paul.
“Hey, strangers!” Kat’s voice rang out.
I looked up. Kat and her husband Jake were walking toward the stand. Trotting happily beside Jake on a thick nylon leash was Betty Sue, their chow and lab mix.
Betty Sue’s fluffy tail wagged in wide, sweeping arcs as she sniffed the base of the old fence posts.
“Look at this,” Kat said, waving at the empty shelves. “I told you this would happen. You sold out, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, we sure did,” I admitted, reaching for a dry rag to wipe my hands. “We are officially out of inventory. Well, minus a half-eaten bag of blackberries.”
Jake chuckled, reaching down to scratch Betty Sue behind her ears. “Give it another hour. Someone will pull in, willing to pay double for whatever scraps you’ve got left.”
I pulled the cash box out and popped the lid. “I don’t think I have the stamina for any more customers today. Let me get your cut.” I quickly counted out a thick stack of twenty-dollar bills from her sales, holding the money out to her. “Here you go. Your profits.”
Kat’s eyes widened as she took the cash. “Holy shit. That’s a lot.”
I’d sold almost nine-hundred dollars of her products today.
“Thanks for bringing your stuff. It really filled out the display.”
“Too bad this is the last time. We could have been partners in crime,” Kat joked.
My heart tightened. I knew Kat was deep in the festival circuit, selling her products everywhere she could. The two of us really could have made some gold out of this little roadside stand. If only things had been different.
“So,” Jake said, shifting his weight. “We’re heading over to the Fourth of July festival. Amos and the guys are supposed to start playing at seven. You two want to come with us?”
Neither one of them had batted an eyelash about Paul being here. That was one of the things I liked about Kat. She was the epitome of no drama… unless she got fired up.
But Jake seemed to have mellowed her out. He was a good match for her.
I glanced over at Paul.
He was already closing the stand down, pulling in displays and lowering the flag.
I turned back to Kat with a grin on my lips. “I think we might just watch the fireworks from the top of the hill tonight.”
“Fair enough,” Jake said. He looked over at Paul’s old Ford parked in the grass. “Hey, Paul, I meant to ask you earlier, did you lift the suspension on that truck yourself, or did you buy it like that?”
As the two men turned their backs to discuss the truck, Kat immediately leaned over the counter. She locked eyes with me and silently mouthed the words, Are you two a thing now?
I felt a hot flush creep up my neck. I glanced at Paul’s broad back, then back at Kat. I mouthed the word, Maybe.
Kat gave me a silent shriek that had me giggling.
Ten minutes later, Jake and Kat loaded Betty Sue into their pickup and drove off toward the festival grounds.
I reached under the counter and pulled out a large, hand-painted wooden sign. My grandfather had made it decades ago. I carried it around to the front of the stand and hung the loop of twine over the rusty nail on the center support beam.
Sold Out. See You Next Year!
I stared at the faded red lettering, a heavy lump forming in my throat.
There wouldn’t be a next year. This was the end of the line. The property would be sold and by next year the stand would likely be torn down. And I wouldn’t be here to see any of it happen. I’d be back in Texas, living a very different life.
Paul stepped up beside me. “You did a good job today, Georgia.”
“Thanks,” I murmured, tearing my eyes away from the sign. I grabbed the cash box. “You want to head up to the house? I can give you a tour.”
“That sounds nice.”
We fell into a slow, side-by-side pace as we started the trek up the long, sloping hill.
“You never really finished telling me about Austin,” Paul said, his voice a low rumble in the quiet evening air. “How did you end up staying there all by yourself?”
I adjusted my grip on the cash box. “It’s complicated. My parents moved me there when I was a freshman in high school. My dad got a job transfer. They liked it for a while, but things fell apart. They finalized their divorce right after I turned seventeen.”
Paul kicked a loose rock off the path. “That’s a tough age for a family to split.”
“It was,” I agreed. “After the dust settled, they both decided they wanted fresh starts. My mom met someone and moved to Florida. My dad got really into hiking and moved to Colorado. That’s where he met his new wife.”
“They left you in Austin?”
“I was eighteen by the time they went. Technically, a legal adult.” I stared straight ahead at the peeling paint of the old farmhouse at the top of the hill.
“Most people pack up their cars and move away from their parents to start their own lives after school ends. But my parents moved away from me. It was a bit strange.”
Paul was quiet for a few steps. “You could have gone with one of them?”
“I could have,” I admitted. “They both offered. But I had just landed an entry-level job at a marketing agency in the city. I didn’t want to uproot my whole life again. So… I stayed behind.”
As we crested the hill, the sharp, earthy smell of summer grass filled my lungs. It reminded me of childhood summers spent running around this yard when Etta would babysit me.
“Do you like living there?” Paul asked.
“No,” I answered honestly, the truth slipping out before I could stop it. “I really don’t. I’ve been promoted a few times, and I make okay money now, but the cost of living is so high. Rent eats up half my paycheck every month. I can’t afford to buy a house anywhere near my office.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’ve been saving up for a condo,” I told him. “It’s all I can realistically afford. I don’t even want a condo. I hate the idea of shared walls and a tiny concrete balcony. I’m just doing it because I don’t know what else to do.”
We reached the top of the hill. The old farmhouse hinted at better times as it sat in front of us.
The white paint was chipping in large flakes, and the gutters sagged heavily on the left side.
It had been a beauty once upon a time. Back when my grandma Etta had been feeling more spry.
We stepped up onto the wrap-around front porch, the weathered floorboards groaning loudly under our shoes.
Paul stopped near the front door. He looked out over the railing at the valley below, then turned his gaze to me.
“Georgia,” he said gently. “You already own a house. You don’t need to live in a condo if you don’t want to.”
I let out a harsh laugh. “I own a massive liability, Paul. Look at this place.”
“Henry left it to you for a reason.”
“I know. I just don’t know why. I’m still shocked he left it to me and not my dad,” I admitted, setting the cash box down on a wicker porch chair.
“Did he share his reasons?”
“When the estate attorney read the will, my dad was furious. But the lawyer said Grandpa Henry wanted me to have a home.” I dragged my hands over my face.
“But I think he overestimated me. This place is too much work to fix up. The roof leaks, the plumbing groans, and the foundation probably needs leveling. I can’t afford to hire contractors to save it.
Let alone the fact that my job is in Austin.
What would I even do here? Work at the diner? ”
“Naw. Of course not. Unless that’s what you wanted to do.”
“It’s not.” I unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The house was quiet, wrapped in its own silence. “So this is it. Not so grand after all.”
We walked into the living room. The floral wallpaper was peeling at the seams, and a large water stain marred the ceiling above the fireplace.
Paul stood in the center of the room. He looked at the heavy timber beams overhead, then down at the scuffed hardwood floors.
“The bones of this house are solid,” he said, turning to face me. “You don’t need to hire expensive contractors, Georgia. There are plenty of people on this mountain who would help you for free.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly feeling small. “I’m only close with Kat now. I hardly know these people anymore. I can’t ask strangers for charity.”
“You know me,” he countered, his voice serious.
“And I know a dozen guys at the logging camp who would love nothing more than to come over here for a weekend or two. They’d swing hammers and patch that roof just to show off their brawn and eat some of your pie.
We could have this place watertight and stable in a month. ”
My heart hammered against my chest.
He made it sound so simple. A roof. A few weekends. Men with hammers and muddy boots and too much appetite for pie.
After years of holding everything together by myself, the offer nearly knocked the breath out of me. I’d spent years in Texas holding everything together by myself, pretending I was fine. I wasn’t used to relying on other people.
But I spun it into a joke because I wasn’t ready to face those feelings. “You want all your buddies at the logging camp to eat my pie?”
He snorted. “You know what I meant. And no. I’m not into sharing.”
My chest seized tight hearing that. Then my eyes flooded unexpectedly with hot, rapid tears.
“I’m scared,” I said, my voice cracking in the quiet room. “I don’t know what to do, Paul. I just miss my grandpa so much. I never thought he’d go this fast. Etta was the frail one. Henry was always solid like an oak tree. I thought I’d have more time with both of them. And now they’re just… gone.”
Paul closed the distance between us and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me flush against his chest.
I buried my face in his shoulder and grabbed a fistful of his shirt, clinging to him as the first sob tore its way out of my throat.
It was an ugly cry.
I cried for my grandmother, who’d died of so many diseases I couldn’t list them all. And I cried for my grandfather, who’d died of a broken heart shortly after.
Then I cried for the lonely teenager who’d been left behind in Austin, scrambling to build a life for myself.
Paul rested his chin on the top of my head and held me close. He slowly stroked my hair while I got it all out of my system.
This was a good man.
And was I really going to walk away from him as soon as this place sold?
I squeezed my eyes shut as the truth flooded through me.
I was falling head over heels for this man. The realization terrified me more than anything else.
Leaving Red Oak Mountain had always been the plan, but I hadn’t expected to feel so much resistance when Sean had waved that contract in my face.
Everything was a hot mess, and I didn’t know what to do about any of it. But the one thing I did know was that I liked having Paul by my side while I tried to navigate the biggest decision of my life.