Chapter 20
Morgan
Moving goes well. I sleep most of the drive to Rory’s place in the backseat of my car. Rory gets in good with Silas, Bailey, and Kit when we show up at her apartment and she’s bought donuts.
Which is good, because I have something to show her. She’s gonna hate it.
I can’t wait.
While we’re munching on donuts, I pull out the folded-up newspaper from my pocket. “Look what was published in the newspaper this week.”
My friends smirk, because they already know. Rory grabs it and her eyes widen when she sees the picture. “What the—”
Now, I knew this was coming. Mrs. Patterson recruited my help, and if I may say so, I picked the perfect picture of myself to go alongside the photo of Rory in a white dress. In the photo printed next to it, I’m in a suit, a bow tie under my chin, and a canine missing from my toothy grin.
Also, we’re children.
Rory hasn’t said anything, but her eyes scan the article. Finally, she drops her hand and the paper crinkles in her grip.
“An engagement announcement? Really?”
“That’s the one my mom clipped,” Kit tells her. “You can keep it.”
“I’m thinking of framing a few,” I add. “Since I have so many of them.”
“No,” Rory says. “No way.”
“Yes way.” I grin at her. “People have been dropping them off at the bar ever since the announcement came out. They love the pictures of us as kids.”
“It makes us look like we’re child brides, or whatever the non-gendered equivalent is. Wait, how did Grandma get your picture?”
“She asked me. Actually, she asked me for a photo of us together, which”—I almost say that I obviously don’t have one, but my friends might think that was pretty weird.
Bailey and Silas exchange bemused glances.
If they’ve guessed this is all fake, they haven’t said anything—“I didn’t think you’d want that. ”
“Right.”
Rory picks the article up again and stares at it. Silas changes the subject. “Hey, you won’t believe who Hunter added to the Save Sirens Valley Lodge group chat.”
“You have a group chat?” I ask.
“Yeah. Those of us who are in, which up until last night was just Hunter and us.” Silas gestures between himself and Bailey.
“In for what?” Rory asks.
The four of us exchange glances. It’s not like it’s a secret, exactly, but we’re not talking about it just yet. Hunter, rightly so, doesn’t want the rumor mill to get ahold of the idea that we might buy the lodge, and thus get all the Herevians’ hopes up.
But Rory is my “fiancée.” I would definitely tell her if this relationship was real.
I dust some powdered sugar off my hands. “In to buy the ski lodge.”
“Save the town,” Kit adds, and then raises a fist like Superman flying to the rescue.
We explain Hunter’s numerous ideas to Rory. Her gaze meets mine after Silas tells her how much the lodge is listed for. “Are you in?”
I shrug. “I don’t have the money.”
Her mouth flattens. “This is why you wanted cash from your brother.”
“It’s not a big deal.” I move the conversation on before Rory can put together that the ring on her finger would also be my ticket to buying in. “Who joined the group chat?”
Silas smirks. “Zachary Lawson.”
My eyebrows shoot up and Kit’s jaw drops. “No shit.”
“Who’s Zachary Lawson?” Rory asks.
“A guy we went to school with,” Silas explains. “Real quiet. Comes into town sometimes, but mostly keeps to himself.”
“He lives out in the woods,” Kit adds. “Kind of a homesteader.”
“But apparently,” Bailey says, “a homesteader with enough money to buy in. Hunter said Zach just texted him out of the blue. Lord only knows how Zach even heard about it.”
Huh. Zach is definitely a rugged individual who doesn’t seem to care much for local happenings—social or otherwise. “Maybe this is him coming out of his shell. Kit, we could get him to be our mountain man.”
Kit laughs and sets his empty mug on the counter. We get to work, chuckling and trying to picture the beast of a man cleaning shirtless.
Rory’s apartment is a one-bedroom, and she’s selectively chosen what to pack up and what to leave behind.
“You want to bring the coffee machine?” I ask. “Even though I already have one?”
Rory looks from me to her coffee machine and back, raising an eyebrow.
“You bought a coffee machine?” Silas asks. He peers over Rory’s shoulder. “Oh, that’s a good one. Probably better than whatever Morgan has.”
Rory smirks. I shrug and take the coffee maker out to the car.
“I better leave to pick up Grandma,” Rory says, putting a framed picture on the bookshelf in my living room.
She unpacked most of her things yesterday and was asleep when I got home.
This morning before she sat down to work, she asked if she could make space for some items in the common rooms—even though we already said we’d make it look like she lived here, I think Rory’s uncomfortable with the imposition.
Then she set up her laptop on my kitchen table and put in a full day’s work.
When she called it quits, Rory paced around the house with nervous energy, moving things around and repacking items we don’t have room for.
Princess followed her everywhere, her tail wagging and her nose inspecting every new thing.
Now she’s run out of time and will have to leave things the way they are.
“Is there anything left you need me to do while you’re gone?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Just the food.” I’m cooking tonight, a stir-fry Rory approved as a good first meal to serve Mrs. Patterson.
“Deal,” I say. Everything’s already chopped up and the rice is done on the stove. Rory disappears into her bedroom, Princess on her heels, when there’s a knock on the door. Princess barks and trots to look out the front window.
Rory sticks her head out, brow wrinkled in confusion. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
She watches as I stride to the door and pull it open.
Mrs. Patterson stands at my front step, with a young Black guy in a uniform who’s holding a duffle bag. Between them, there’s a big cardboard box that comes up to their hips and sitting on top of that is a cat carrier.
With a yowling, pissed-off Bartholomeow in it.
“Grandma.” Rory comes up behind me, a warning note in her voice. “I was just on my way to pick you up.”
“Good. Terrence saved you the trip.” Terrence is, I assume, the young man on my porch.
“Where’s my room?” Rory’s grandma pushes into my house, and I fall back, opening the door wider to give them space.
Princess hops on her front paws, her whole body wiggling in excitement.
An angry noise comes from the cat carrier.
“Princess, bed,” I command.
She whines and barely even glances at me. I put more authority into my voice. “Bed.”
Princess obeys, but not without looking over her shoulder four or five times on her way to my room. I follow and close her in.
“Your room?” Rory’s voice is rising as I approach. “What room? And why the hell is Bartholomeow here?”
The cat in question hisses.
“You said when the time came, you’d take Bartholomeow. Well, the time has come. I need you to take him.” Mrs. Patterson wobbles on her cane into the room, and it seems like she’s purposefully avoiding Rory’s gaze.
“Grandma,” Rory growls. “Some warning would have been nice. I didn’t mean you could just drop by with the cat. Did you even think about Morgan?”
She doesn’t answer.
Terrence clears his throat and leans in. “She’s had to call the staff a couple times to help take care of the cat,” he says quietly to Rory. “She’s not supposed to spring things like this on you, but . . .”
But she’s a stubborn and prideful old lady is the subtext.
Rory sighs and closes her eyes. “Grandma, you’re supposed to tell me when you need help.”
“It’s better this way,” Mrs. Patterson says, which is probably as close to an admission as she’ll get. “That way I can still visit him.”
Rory looks at me. She looks at her grandmother. She squeezes her eyes tight and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I’m getting a headache,” she mutters.
“Uh, what’s this about a room?” I ask.
Rory stands up straight and glares at her grandma.
“I’m staying the night. It’ll help Bartholomeow get acclimated.”
“Grandma!” Rory shouts. She flings her arms up in exasperation. “You can’t just do things without asking!”
“Okay, okay, hold on,” I say. “Let’s take a few moments to calm down.”
Rory grumbles but folds her arms over her chest and shifts her glare to me.
“Why don’t we put Bartholomeow’s stuff in the den and you can get the guest room neatened up for your grandma?” I arch an eyebrow. And move ALL of your stuff over to my room.
Rory sighs and stomps off. Terrence and I carry the box and the carrier into the back room. I tell Terrence I’ve got it from here, and he departs. Mrs. Patterson follows me, sitting on the couch and ordering me around while I unpack food bowls, toys, and a kitty litter box.
I take my sweet time unpacking and we try to coax the cat out of the carrier but he refuses to budge. That’s fine, we’ll have to introduce him carefully to Princess anyway.
I stand, leaving the cat carrier open. “We’ll close the door and leave him alone.”
Mrs. Patterson’s hands are resting on her cane, her eyes on the carrier. I dust my hands off, thinking I should probably get dinner going, when she speaks.
“You can’t see it right now.” Her voice is small, quieter than I’ve ever heard her.
“But he needs a good brushing. There are some mats in his fur, and . . .” Her voice trails off and she looks up at me.
She doesn’t say anything else for a moment, and then looks down at her hands, flexing and squeezing one of them.
“It’s okay. We’ll figure it out,” I assure her. “There’s going to be a learning curve though. I’ve never had a cat before.”
Mrs. Patterson snorts. “They’re easier than dogs. It’ll take a while for him to warm up to you.”
“Please,” I say. “I won your granddaughter over, didn’t I?”