Chapter 16 #3
She gulps and her eyes search mine. “Okay, that’s, uh, that’s good to know. Thank you for the information. I’ll just, uh, plug that away as noted.” She nervously laughs. “Atlas Maxheimer thinks it’s good to see me. That’s just great.”
“Any reciprocation on that thought?” I ask as I release her and stick my hands in my pockets.
Her eyes widen. “Oh, yes, uh, great to see you . . . pal.” She playfully punches my arm.
“‘Pal’?” I raise a brow at her.
“Comrade?” she asks with a wince.
I chuckle. “Sure. After you hit me with a two-liter, at this point, I’ll take comrade.” I rock back on my heels. “Well, I hope you have a good night with Storee. Baubles and Wrappings seems like the perfect place to get lost in.”
“Oh yeah, should be fun. I’m excited.”
I nod, knowing this needs to end at some point. “Okay. Well, have a good night, Betty.”
“Yup.” She awkwardly waves. “You too.” But then she doesn’t move. She remains still and just . . . stares. Since it seems like she’s waiting for something, I take that moment to see just how far I can go with this.
I take a chance, close the space between us, and wrap my arms around her, giving her a warm hug. And she returns it immediately, melting into my body and pressing her face against my chest.
I hold her for probably longer than I should, reveling in how she feels so . . . right in my arms.
When I finally let go, she smiles up at me, waves, and then takes off toward Storee’s car, nearly skipping away. I let out a deep sigh, knowing that I just got the confirmation that I needed.
She feels the same way.
She feels the same exact way.
With a chest full of pride, I head back into the house where Ansel’s still sitting on the stairs, mouth shut. When I shut the door, I say, “You can speak now.”
As if he’s been holding in his breath, he exhales loudly and then asks, “What the hell was that?”
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I say as I turn off the music but leave the mannequins in place, just in case Storee and Betty decide to come back.
He follows me. “That was weird.”
“There was nothing weird about it.”
“There was so much weird about it,” he says.
“Can you just leave me alone?”
“Not after that. Dude, that was a full-on party you faked.”
“Leave, Ansel.”
“Like, a full-on party. I’m worried.”
“Well, don’t be,” I shout, getting irritated with him.
“Whoa, okay. Sheesh, you’re wound tight.”
“I’m just trying to figure some things out, and I don’t need you harping on me about what I’m up to. Just let me do my thing, and don’t worry about it, okay?”
Might be a little harsh, but the last thing I need is for my puke of a brother to find out about Betty and Dwight and what they’re trying to do while also realizing that I’m starting to like this girl when I have no right liking her at all.
Because here’s the thing: If Ansel finds out how I feel about Betty, there’s no way he’s going to just drop it.
No, he’ll annoy me incessantly until I lose my goddamn mind, and then that’s when he’ll strike by spreading the news around town, because that’s the kind of guy he is.
Always the instigator.
I still don’t understand how Felix puts up with him on a daily basis, but then again, they’ve always been closer.
“Okay.” Ansel brushes off his shoulders.
“Why are you still here?” I rub my forehead, wishing he’d just vanish.
“I came over because Mom texted me that you called, and she couldn’t hear you and hung up. She wanted me to check on you because she was worried that something was wrong. Took me a few days, but I’m here.”
Wow, a few days. What a brother.
“I’m fine. I called to see how their trip was going,” I lie.
“Was that all? Everything fine at the farm? Because if you need Felix and me to pitch in since we know how to run a business, we can do that.”
Of course he would say that. What a dick.
My irritation grows as I look my brother in the eyes. “I don’t need your help. I’m fine. The farm is thriving. Everything is good.”
“I mean, you say you don’t need my help, but then I come here, and you have Mom’s old mannequins dressed up and talking to each other, so I’m sorry if I feel like something’s a little off.”
“I’m fine. Now get the hell out of here. I need to clean up.”
“Okay, but you know where to find me if you need anything.”
Yeah, over my dead body would I ever go to him looking for help.
Betty
“I feel bad,” I say, as we make our way down a row of dishes.
Baubles and Wrappings is a very interesting store, almost like a mini-Target but without the food. Instead of all new clothes and products, it’s a combination of new products, thrift store items, and vintage finds. Naturally, every last item is geared toward Christmas.
When Storee asked if I wanted to get lost in the store, she really meant it.
“We went over this, Betty. He was probably excited to see you. He even said it.”
“I know, but I just . . . I don’t know. Was that stupid to drive all the way over there to give him an ornament? That was stupid. Like clingy. Did it look clingy?”
She smirks. “Not at all. You said he appreciated it, right?”
“He did. He was excited to see that our ornaments made it through the night.”
“See, there you have it. He was excited. That’s all you need to worry about, okay? Atlas is a genuine guy, so he won’t lie to you. When he says something, he means it.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” I pick up a dish that’s in the shape of a Christmas tree with a green truck piled with unadorned Christmas trees painted on it.
It reminds me of Atlas, and for a brief second, I think about getting it for him but then remember that would be weird.
We’re not really close enough for me to buy him a Christmas plate and tell him that it reminded me of him.
Especially when I’m also in the process of devising a business plan that’s supposed to put him and his family out of business.
Speaking of said business plan, I have yet to put one together.
Uncle Dwight texted me this morning to see how it was going, and I told him that I was still immersing myself and needed some more time.
It’s the second time I’ve canceled on him, and if I do it again, I know he’ll think something’s up.
I don’t have it in me to meet with him at the moment, not when I’m feeling so confused inside.
I’m picking up signs that while Atlas is generous to Kringletown, community focused, kind, and thoughtful, and therefore perceived so well here, my uncle doesn’t have that same .
. . esteem. People don’t light up at the mention of his name.
They respect him, there’s no doubt about that, but they don’t seem to hold the same level of admiration for him.
And yet I’m expected to destroy the Maxheimer family business.
And that’s getting harder and harder to want, the more I feel for Atlas.
“This might be me overstepping, and please tell me if I’m wrong,” Storee says. “But it seems to me that maybe you might like Atlas.”
I run my fingers over the edge of the plate, taking in the embossed pattern. “Yeah, I, uh, I think I might, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t even know him that well still, but . . .” I sigh and put the plate down. “Can I tell you this in confidence?”
Storee nods. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” I turn toward her and say, “He doesn’t seem like the guy that my uncle has portrayed him to be, and that’s really confusing.
I thought that he was this bad guy who hurt my uncle, and taking over his farm would be so easy—remorseless—but the more time I spend with Atlas, the more I realize that he’s really not that guy.
And I don’t know, maybe my uncle has experienced something different with him, but the whole plan just seems . . . off.”
“Well, I don’t know what Dwight has gone through when it comes to Atlas, and I haven’t lived in this town long enough to even pretend to know, but what I can tell you is that what you see with Atlas is all real.
Every single bit of it. He’s a good guy, inside and out.
It doesn’t get more genuine than him. And I’m not just saying that because I want you to change your mind. I’m saying that because I mean it.”
I nod and then move down the aisle. “I kind of wish that wasn’t the case.”
“Why?”
“Because.” I spot a pickup truck with a tree in the back of it, and my mind goes right back to Atlas and his ornament. “It would be so much easier if he was a jerk, but now that I know a little bit about him, it’s making it harder to consider my uncle’s offer.”
“I can understand that.” Storee thinks about it for a second.
“Why don’t you give it some thought, sleep on it, and maybe start drawing up ideas of something else you can do with the land?
Something that you think would be a great contribution to the town, something the whole community can get behind, rather than trying to take out an already existing business?
” She shrugs. “Then you can present it to Dwight. When he’s happy, you can move forward with seeing where things can go with Atlas. Just my two cents.”
“That all seems pretty bold, and I’m not that bold of a person,” I say, hating that I even said the words myself.
I wish I was bold. I wish I was more take-charge, but at the end of the day, I’m a people pleaser, and I make decisions based on how people will see me, not what’s best for me.
It’s something I’ve been working on. Clearly not doing a good job so far.
“I understand that. Sometimes it’s hard to find your voice, but if you keep working at it, you will find it at some point when you need it the most.”
I turn toward Storee, so happy that I ran into her at Evergreen Farm. “Thank you. I feel really lucky that I can call you a friend.”
“So do I.”