Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Town
We stepped onto the sidewalk just outside Sweet Teeth. Lenni zipped up the coat Poet had lent her and quickly donned the red wool cap before shoving her hands into coat pockets. “Why is it called Silver Street?”
I took a sip of my lukewarm Hadley’s Hooch and before I could answer, a woman Muddy’s age stalked toward us, wearing a sheep-lined brown jacket.
“It’s because Huckleberry Hill was founded after the silver mines in the area started to produce.
Sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop. But I couldn’t help myself. ”
“I’m glad you did.” I smiled and hugged her. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Nothing new. Speaking of new. . .” She held out her hand to Lenni. “Muddy told me about you. Lenni, right?”
Lenni blinked and took her hand. “Right.”
“I’m Lucy,” the woman explained.
“This is Muddy’s best friend, Poet’s landlord, and the owner of General Mercantile,” I said.
“Those sodas you like came in last week,” Lucy announced as she dropped Lenni’s hand.
“Last week?” I asked in confusion. “But how did—”
“Muddy had a feeling you’d show up.” She winked.
“Muddy,” I muttered.
“Anyway, didn’t mean to stop you two. Carry on. Come in and see me when you can. Nice to meet you, Lenni.”
We scooted out of the way of the front door so Lucy could enter Sweet Teeth.
“People sure are friendly in these here parts,” Lenni teased. “Reminds me of Georgia.”
“Oh yeah, that Southern hospitality thing. It’s so not that way in New York.” I flipped up the collar of Lenni’s coat. “Come on, let me show you around.”
We headed toward The Diner. The sign on the door read closed, but there were men with tool belts moving throughout the space.
“What are they doing?” Lenni inquired.
“A few months ago, there was a grease fire in The Diner. I thought for sure the repairs would be done by now, but I guess not. It’s really the only restaurant in town.
The Copper Mule serves amazing barbecue, but The Diner was the breakfast spot.
Especially for cowboys and ranchers who get up super early. The Diner is a staple.”
A puff of cold wind chilled my face. I grimaced and looked over at Lenni who’d hunched lower into her coat.
She made a garbled noise, like she was trying to catch her breath.
“Forget this,” I muttered. “Let’s get to Elk Ridge and hang out with Muddy until your dad is done.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We hustled our way back toward the beast of a truck. Lenni ran to the passenger side door and scrambled into the seat.
I hoisted myself up into the driver’s side. Even though I was tall, Archer was taller, so I’d still had to make some seat and mirror adjustments.
“Is it weird that I miss Mildred?” Lenni asked as she buckled herself in.
“Nope,” I said. “She’s been my shadow for months. I usually take her with me wherever I go. It was easy with her in the city. She loves the subway, actually.”
“Yeah?” Lenni asked with a flicker of a smile, but then it wobbled. “I’ve never been to New York. Mom and I were going to . . .”
I pressed the truck’s start button and the engine rumbled to life.
“Press that button,” I said, pointing.
Lenni did as I commanded and a moment later her eyes widened. “My butt is warm.”
I grinned. “Seat warmers.”
She wiggled down in her seat. “What’s New York like? Do you miss it?”
“Busy. Super busy. Big buildings. Hot dog stands. Trash.”
“Wyn. Be serious.”
“I am being serious,” I said. “And to be honest, no, I don’t think I miss it. Not yet anyway. I haven’t been gone very long. Besides, all my friends are here. So what’s to miss?”
She placed her hands underneath her thighs, no doubt to give them a little heat.
“Where do your parents live?” she asked.
I pulled away from the curb. “Upstate New York.”
“Do you miss them?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to spend Christmas with them?” she asked.
“They’re going to Norway for Christmas,” I explained. “And Hadley’s due date is Christmas day. My plan was to be here for the Christmas holiday.”
She was quiet for a moment and then she asked, “Do you think we’ll get snow here for Christmas?”
“There’s a very good chance we will,” I said. “It’s gloomy right now, but hopefully that means snow soon.”
She looked out the window and didn’t say anything for a long time. “We were going to go to New York for Christmas. See the Rockettes and then go ice skating in Rockefeller Center. Take pictures of the tree . . .”
I reached over and tugged on one of her braids. “Well, I can’t promise you the Rockettes, but we will go ice skating on Lavender Lake when it gets cold enough. And we’ll get a big tree and put it in the house. How’s that?”
I thought that would at least pull a smile from Lenni but instead, it only made her face screw up into an expression of pain. And then she started crying.
Her shoulders heaved with the force of emotion and a lump of pain swelled in my throat.
“Lenni,” I murmured. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head and hastily wiped her cheeks. “No. It’s just—I don’t have any of my Christmas decorations. I don’t have the stocking Mom made for me. I don’t have anything of hers except . . .”
“Except?”
“The sweater I’m wearing.”
No wonder it was so big on her.
“What happened to your mom’s things?” I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye, my hands on the wheel.
“When I moved in with Nancy . . . there wasn’t room. I have no idea where anything is. She probably donated everything.”
A pit of anger boiled in my stomach.
I didn’t know what it was like to lose a parent. And I certainly didn’t know what it was like to lose a parent as a child.
But I suddenly wanted to take a swing at the woman who’d dropped Lenni off with a father she didn’t know and then sped off without so much as a backward glance.
I turned onto the private road that led up to Elk Ridge and we drove the rest of the way in silence.
Mr. Powell was coming out of the house when I pulled up and parked. He had on his signature cowboy hat and a worn sheepskin jacket. He’d been rocking a mustache for the last couple of months, and it looked good on him. The blue mug in his hand was steaming as he brought it to his mouth.
Lenni unclipped her seatbelt but didn’t bolt out of the truck. Her tears had cleared, but she still looked sad.
“Ready?” I asked, wishing my voice hadn’t sounded croaky as though I’d been trying not to cry.
“Yeah.”
But she didn’t move.
I got out of the truck first and let Lenni get herself together while I walked toward the porch.
“Morning,” I greeted Mr. Powell.
“Hey Wyn.” He took another sip of his coffee. “Is she gonna get out of the truck?”
“She just needs a moment,” I explained.
The door to the truck opened and Lenni climbed out. She straightened her back and shoulders as if to better face the world.
I knew that stance. Forcing bravado when all you wanted to do was curl in on yourself and hide.
“Hi Lenni,” Mr. Powell greeted.
“Hi.” Her tone was glum. She closed the door but made no move to come forward.
“I was about to head to the barn. You ever see a horse get shoed?”
She shook her head.
“Come on,” he said, his gaze sliding to mine.
Thank you, I mouthed.
He inclined his head in understanding.
Lenni looked at me. “Can I go?”
“Sure thing,” I said with a smile. “I’ll be here.”
“You like horses?” Mr. Powell asked Lenni as the two of them started for the barn.
“Sure. Who doesn’t like horses?” she asked.
“Lots of people,” he remarked.
“I don’t want to know those people,” she said, causing Mr. Powell to laugh.
“Have you ridden a horse before?”
“Yeah. On a school field trip.”
I kept my smile as I headed up the porch steps. The house smelled like freshly baked bread and strong coffee. Sure enough, Muddy was at the oven, an apron around her waist as she pulled out a perfectly formed loaf.
“Hey,” she greeted with a smile and looked around me. “Lenni’s not with you?”
“Mr. Powell took her to the barn. She’s going to watch a horse get shoed.”
“Which means she’s going to be spending time with Archer,” she stated. “Good plan.”
“Very good plan.”
“There’s fresh coffee. Help yourself.”
“Thanks,” I said as I went to the coffee pot.
“You don’t look like you slept,” she said as she set the loaf aside to cool.
“Thanks?” I mocked. “But you’re right. Archer didn’t sleep much either.”
“Oh? And how do you know that?” she asked, her hazel eyes twinkling with devilment.
I shot her a look. “Because we ran into each other in the kitchen around two in the morning.”
“I see.”
I went to the fridge and pulled out the bottle of cream.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll hang out with you until Archer’s finished. He said he’ll be done by noon and then we’re running errands.”
“What kind of errands?” She lifted the dishtowel covering a glass bowl that had resting dough.
“We need to buy paint for Lenni’s room and a new bedspread. And she’s wearing Poet’s coat right now—she needs real winter clothes. She grew up in Georgia.”
“Oh, she’s not prepared at all.”
“Exactly.”
“I think there are a few boxes of Hadley and Salem’s clothes from when they were her age in the attic. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind—”
“Thanks,” I said. “But she’s getting new stuff.”
“Oh?”
“The old clothes could make her feel . . . I don’t know. Like a charity case. An orphan.”
Muddy didn’t say anything as she began to stretch the dough.
“I found out that she doesn’t have anything from her life with her mom. I think Nancy donated it all when Lenni moved in with her.”
“Damn.”
I sighed. “She cried in the truck just now. It took everything in me not to get outwardly angry. But that won’t help things.”
“No. It won’t,” she agreed. “How’s Archer doing?”
I rubbed my third eye. “As good as can be expected, I guess.”
“So, he’s feeling guilty and overwhelmed then?”
“Very.”
Muddy shaped the dough into an elongated loaf and then dropped it into the banneton.
“I’ve started the meal prep for Hadley and Declan,” she said. “It’s easy to pop a frozen lasagna into the oven. Don’t want them to have to think about food when the little one arrives.”
“Can you believe it?” I asked with a shake of my head. “I can’t believe she’s going to have a baby soon.”
“I know.” Muddy smiled. “The house will soon be filled with babies. I can’t wait.”
“Yeah.” My throat constricted.
“Your time will come.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“Don’t do that thing you do,” I warned.
“What thing?”
“That witchy thing where you make proclamations and then they come true.”
“You don’t want a baby?”
“I’d like a man who actually loves me first.” I sighed. “I have a baby. A fur-baby.”
“Speaking of that, where is Mildred?”
“I left her with Poet. It’ll be hard to run errands with a dog. And I didn’t want to leave her home alone.”
“No need to when your best friend lives a few blocks away now.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m glad you’re here, sugar. It wasn’t the same without you. Now grab a knife and start cutting some veggies.”