10. Ellison
“You’re lucky you’re so cute all curled up in my sheets. Otherwise I’d be makin’ you get up to help me this morning.” Montana’s voice is quiet but I don’t miss the humor in it—I can only imagine what I look like right now, but I don’t care.
“Just tell me I’m pretty,” I say into the mattress. His chuckle, low and gravelly, floats between us like the riff of my favorite song.
“You’re always pretty, Eddie.”
“Liar,” I retort as I stretch and turn to face him in the still darkened room. His sheets smell like wood and sunshine and him. It’s the kind of smell that I want to bottle up and carry with me forever.
“Swear it,” he says, holding up his hands, a smile teasing his lips. “Even that time your mother convinced you to get a spray tan before junior prom, and you didn’t listen to the lady and went swimming as soon as you got home.”
I snort remembering my mother’s look of abject horror when I came out all streaky. “Took me a whole week before I managed to return to my natural skin tone.”
We share a secret smile because he knows I did it on purpose. My mother had booked me a date with the son of one of her high society friends. He had grabby hands, and my objections had fallen on deaf ears leading up to the dance.
Montana and I had spent that evening watching a movie at his house while Grandad and Nan fussed over us. Nan made us get dressed up a week later, once I was back to normal, so she could document the occasion. That picture had lived on her fridge for a long time.
Pausing in the doorway, Montana looks back and smiles at me like maybe he’s remembering it too. “If you hustle, you might be able to convince Grandad to make you breakfast.”
“With bacon?”
“Maybe.” He laughs but I’m already trying to untangle myself from the sheets.
“And French toast?”
“I dunno, but I’d hurry…” Montana disappears from the doorway, and I snatch up some clothes from my bag and head into the bathroom to change. I don’t have anywhere to be today, and it feels so good.
Splashing some cold water on my face, I can’t help but smile at the reflection staring back at me. Her face isn’t contoured within an inch of her life, she’s not wearing some death-trap spandex, and she definitely doesn’t have to report back to her parents about the connections she made at some overpriced gala dinner.
She looks happy.
To be fair, any woman who got to curl up in Montana Greene’s arms would probably look pretty happy. But it’s not any woman.
It’s me.
A whistle sounds from down the hall again, and I spit my toothpaste into the sink before checking my reflection once more. Tucking everything into my bag, I make my way into the kitchen and find Grandad at the stove. He points to a cup of coffee without turning to look at me.
“Coffee’s there, Dolly.”
“How did you know I was here?” I ask as Hermie bulldozes into me the only way a puppy can, his tongue licking at my hand as I scrunch his face and coo sweet nothings.
“Stop givin’ him a complex,” Grandad grumbles, and I cover Hermie’s ears.
“He didn’t mean that. You’re the goodest boy, aren’t you? Yes you are,” I say in the most obnoxious baby voice I can manage.
Grandad harrumphs, and I laugh as a gray-haired woman comes into the kitchen, an apron with chickens printed on the red-and-white fabric tied around her waist.
“Let me guess—nothing you’re making is on your doctor’s recommended meal list,” she says with a familiarity that makes my chest ache—because I don’t know her.
I missed this part of their lives.
“Oh, good morning, sweetheart. How are you?” Her smile is warm and falls somewhere between Montana’s mama and his Nan. “I’m Celeste and I watch over these hellions.”
“Hi Celeste,” I say, giving her a shy wave. “I’m Ellison.” Her eyes widen and she hustles around the table to wrap me in a hug.
“The Ellison?” she asks when she pulls away. Her hands rest on my shoulders and she holds me at arm’s length as she takes me in before a smile spreads across her kind face.
“Oh Lord, you’ve seen her picture. You know who the girl is,” Grandad bemoans over the bacon sizzling in the pan.
“Just for that, I’m makin’ that tofu stir-fry you love so much for dinner. Balance out your attitude that you seem to be serving with breakfast this morning.”
My eyes widen and my lips part as I stare at her. Celeste winks as she takes my hand and leads me to the table to sit.
“Now tell me all about yourself,” she says as Grandad places a cup of coffee in front of her without a word.
Their dynamic is unexpected—with him being more than a decade her senior—but I sort of love it.
“Oh, umm, Montana and I were best friends growing up, and my parents and I used to live next door. They rent the place now.”
“Damn kids were sneaking in and out of their houses a couple times a week,” Grandad says as he places two eggs sunny-side up in front of me with grape jelly and buttered toast and three slices of perfectly cooked bacon.
It’s stupid but my eyes well with tears because I haven’t sat at this table for breakfast in years, yet he remembered. My parents couldn’t be bothered to remember my birthday without consulting their calendar, but this man who has always just loved me like his own remembers how I like my eggs. Pushing back from the table, I wipe the tears away and then wrap my arms tight around Grandad’s neck.
He still smells like aftershave, and I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t tell me it’s just breakfast because we both know it’s not.
“Missed you, kid.” I nod against his shoulder as I inhale again just because I can. He squeezes me tight then eases me back toward the table. “Go eat before it gets cold.”
Celeste’s eyes twinkle as I take my seat and shove a piece of bacon into my mouth. Grandad places a plate in front of her, and she thanks him before he settles in himself with a plate far more reasonable than I expected.
“Is that…fruit?” I ask with my coffee cup halfway to my lips. Celeste smirks and Grandad points his fork at me.
“Mind your business.”
I giggle and he hides his amusement by taking a bite of his wheat toast.
“So, Ellison, what’s on your agenda today? I’m making a roast for supper”—she eyes Grandad who tries to hide his smile behind his black coffee—“and we’d love to have you join us.”
Giving her a watery smile, I nod and then dive into my plans for the day to distract myself from the way my heart squeezes in my chest.
Celeste tells me about her career as a traveling nurse, flying all over the country and the world. She has me near tears recounting some of her more colorful memories, and even Grandad cracks the occasional smile. Her big heart took her all over the place before she literally threw a dart at a map and headed for Blackstone Falls.
The story is almost unbelievable, but as I look at her in this space, I know it’s more than just a coincidence that brought her here. Some might call it divine intervention, and I have no doubt Nan pulled some strings to make sure the love of her life was safe.
Cherished.
And maybe even loved.
Looks like I might not be the only one falling in love around here.
* * *
ELLISON: Do you know where Sundown Realty is?
ELLISON: Seriously, this town isn’t THAT big
MONTANA: It’s a new storefront. I think Archer’s girl is there
MONTANA: Hold on I’ll send you the address
A couple minuteslater my phone dings with an incoming text, and I pull my car onto the road. It’s a short drive, but I still turn “Matchmaker” by Erin Kinsey down because apparently I’m that years old now and need it quiet to see better.
Double-checking the address Montana gave me, I turn into the gravel lot in front of a small cottage that’s in the midst of getting some upgrades. The dark-stained-wood exterior is decorated with two crisply painted white windows and shutters flanking a maroon farmhouse door. The window boxes are empty, and the front planters have seen better days, but all in all it looks like someone is working hard to make this place shine.
Putting my car in park, I kill the engine and pull my sunglasses on before stepping out into the heat.
“Oh my gosh, are you Ellison Mills?” My head whips up at the sound of a very enthusiastic feminine voice.
“Yes?” I say cautiously as I step around the front of my car.
“Eeeee!” The woman squeals and then lunges at me, wrapping me in a hug and rocking us back and forth. She’s covered in dirt, her blonde hair pulled back with a bandanna, and wearing the biggest smile I’ve ever seen directed at me.
Montana notwithstanding.
I’m speechless. Completely and totally speechless and so much so that I’ve forgotten my manners. And now we’re firmly in the nervous laugh portion of this interaction.
Me—not her.
“This is seriously so great. Montana has told me so much about you!” She beams as she pulls away, completely unaffected by my internal freak-out. I know her name—Montana told me her name—and yet in this moment I have absolutely no idea what it is.
My mother would be appalled. The thought makes me smile.
“Would you believe I can’t for the life of me remember your name?” I ask sheepishly because this hasn’t happened before. My life revolved around making other people feel important, and that meant being able to recall names and information about any given person in a room.
“I’m Bea, and I think I can let it slide just this once considering we’ve never officially met.” She grins and I relax just the littlest bit.
“You’re an angel,” I say and she shakes her head.
“Hardly.” She snorts as she turns for the door. “Come on inside. I was just about to take a break anyway.”
“Oh, um, okay, I just—” I stutter because I wasn’t prepared for this level of social interaction. She’s bubbly and adorable, and I kind of want to put her in my pocket.
“It’s fine, you’ll get used to me,” she says with an unaffected flick of her wrist, and I snort, the awkwardness of the moment suddenly gone.
“I can see how this tactic worked on Archer.”
“You mean how I just inserted myself into his orbit until he couldn’t ignore me?” She grins as she walks over to a small fridge and takes out two sparkling waters. “To be honest, he did a lot of the work. He was shy—no surprise there—but the man sent me poems asking me out until I said yes.”
My eyes widen and so does her smile as I process that piece of information. Truthfully, I didn’t think he had it in him, but I couldn’t be happier that they were able to make it work.
“Impressive.”
“Right?” She sighs dreamily as she leans against the wall and takes a sip of her drink. “He’s supportive and kind and,”—she fans her face—“surprising if you know what I mean.”
“It seems like he was just waiting for the perfect girl to come around.”
She blushes and tips the can at me. “Thank you for saying that. It’s weird being happy, isn’t it?”
“I’m hoping to find out,” I admit, and her smile turns sympathetic but it’s kind and not condescending like I’m used to.
“You will.” Her phone beeps and she pulls it out to look at it. “Archer is all about the little things.” She taps something out and then puts the device back in her pocket. “Like right now, he’s trying to find me goats because he knows how much I want to source local goat milk for my soaps.”
“You make soaps?”
“I do. Plus lotions and lip balms. I’m Bea’s Bubbles and Balms,” she says with a flourish before launching into the details of what she does and how she makes everything before adding, “And while that’s thedream it’s not quite enough yet to do full-time, so for now I’ll be the go-between for Sundown Realty.”
“Well, that’s freaking adorable and also really amazing,” I say and I mean it. She’s like walking sunshine, and I find that I can’t help feeling invested in this woman and her quest for local goat milk here in Tennessee.
“And after all that, Archer doesn’t have goats?”
“He doesn’t, and unfortunately, we are not able to house them on his property.”
“What about at Montana’s?”
Bea pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and shakes her head. “Montana was very clear that he does not want goats.”
“Oh my gosh, he’s so dramatic. It was almost twenty years ago,” I say, rolling my eyes as I imagine him pitching a fit over even being asked. “Tell Archer that Montana will house the goats, and y’all can just let me know when they’re en route so I can have everything ready.”
“Are you sure?”
Am I? Not really.
But this is exactly the kind of thing Montana would expect from me, and who am I to disappoint him?
“Totally sure.”
“He’s going to be pissed, isn’t he?” She laughs and I shrug.
“Probably. But we have a special kind of relationship.”
“Does it involve being naked?” she deadpans and now it’s my turn to laugh.
“Not yet, but maybe if I’m lucky.”
Raising her can, she says, “May the goats provide you the excuse to indulge in mutually beneficial apology orgasms.”
“I’ll cheers to that.”
“So, not that I don’t love the company but…”
“Oh, right. I just need to grab the keys for the house I’m renting. I got the email confirmation that it was ready but had a really hard time finding this place. I had to ask Montana for the address.”
She eyes me for a second, and I have the oddest feeling she’s assessing me—I just don’t know why. She works here and I need the keys to my rental. It should be pretty straightforward, right?
“Of course.” Bea nods and spins on her heels, moving stacks of papers on the desk and growling for a minute before letting out an enthusiastic whoop and turning toward me. “Here you go,” she singsongs as she hands me an envelope. “That place is the cutest. You’re going to love it.”
Her smile is so bright and disarming that I hear myself say, “I can’t wait.”