11. Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven
Nick
“These are incredible,” Mom comments, still scrolling through the pictures that Eliza posted from the other night. “She really has talent.”
“Yeah, she does,” I say with a smile as I sweep the broom across the floor. “I really hope this photography business works out for her.”
“Me, too.” Mom’s still fixated on the pictures. “I hope she stays around. Do you think she’d mind if I printed some of these?” She finally looks up at me.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “Maybe just ask her.”
“Why don’t you ask her for me? You work on the ramp practically every evening, so you’ll probably see her tonight,” Mom points out.
“Maybe. But sometimes she’s not there.”
Mom tilts her head. “Where does she go?”
I let out a sharp breath. “Mom, I have no idea what she does. I’m not her keeper.”
“Well, considering how long that ramp is taking you to build, I’m guessing you’ve been spending more time talking to Eliza than working,” Mom teases, a mischievous glint in her eye. “You like her, don’t you?”
I want to roll my eyes at her, but don’t. “It doesn’t matter.”
“She’d be crazy not to like you back. You’re a catch, hon. Why don’t you ask her to go with you to the festival this weekend?”
“I…” My voice trails off as I’m about to argue with her, but I stop myself.
That is a good idea.
I don’t know if Eliza will agree, but it’s worth a shot. “I think I might.”
“Good!” Mom smiles. “It’ll be a great chance for her to meet people, too. I bet she’d really enjoy it. I’ll see if Marilyn would like to go with me, so Eliza doesn’t feel like she has to take her grandma.”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you two scheming?”
Her expression is unreadable. “Me?” She waves me off. “No way.”
I let out a chuckle. “Whatever you say, Mom.”
But if you are, please let it work.
“You’re late this evening,” Eliza says with a frown as I climb out of my truck. I’m surprised to see her standing on the porch, camera in hand, as if she was waiting for me to show up. As surprising as it is, I kind of like the way she’s concerned about me being late.
“I was just finishing up the float for the parade this Saturday.”
“Oh? Is the parade for that gourd festival thing?”
I laugh. “Pumpkin Festival, but yeah. The parade is a big deal.”
“Ah. You would help with the float.”
I narrow my eyes at her as I start unloading my tools. “Why do you say that?”
“Because since the moment I met you, you’re literally always helping someone.” She plops down, folding her legs crisscross. It’s cute, especially in her faded blue jeans and flannel. She even has a little bandana tied up in her messy hair.
“I like the thing in your hair.”
“What?” She gives me a funny look, and I gesture to the top of her head.
“The bandana … tie … thing,” I clarify, still sounding like an idiot.
“Oh, right.” She laughs. “Thanks. I’m experimenting with casual styles. I kind of like the fact that I don’t have to dress up every day anymore. ”
“Oh yeah? What did you do back in Chicago?” I lean against a rake, knowing that I’m burning daylight…
But I don’t care.
“I worked in marketing for a big tech company,” she begins, before letting out a sigh. “It wasn’t a great job by any means, but it did pay pretty well. I was let go.”
“That’s rough, I’m sorry,” I say, reading her downtrodden face.
“It’s okay,” she dismisses me, smiling again. “Honestly, hindsight is twenty-twenty, and I think, in the long run, I’ll be happier that it didn’t work out.”
“Good, now you can become a renowned photographer. Which sounds way more fun than trying to market technology.”
She giggles. “Yeah, sure. We’ll see. Me and my fifty Instagram followers have a long way to go.”
“Well, everyone’s gotta start somewhere. And my mom seems to think you’re really good.”
The blush on her cheeks sends my heart racing. “Oh my goodness, did she actually say something to you about the photos?”
“Yeah, she did.” I start to rake up the leaves. “Apparently, she wants to print some of them, too. She can be a little overwhelming sometimes.”
“My mom can be like that, too,” Eliza remarks, leaning back on her hands. “I’m convinced that’s the way all good moms are, though. It just means they care. ”
I lift my eyes up to hers, wondering if she wants to be a mom someday. I bite back the question. I don’t want to be weird. “That’s probably true.”
“If I was a mom, I’d totally have a million pictures of my kids,” Eliza continues, answering my question without me having to ask. “Heck, I’d be setting up cute little photoshoots, and then using them as little models.”
I shoot a smirk at her. “Exploiting your children for money, I see.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, whatever you say.”
I chuckle. “If you ever need anything built for your photography sets, I could help,” I offer before I can think it through.
I half expect her to shoot it down immediately, but instead, her face lights up.
“That would be so helpful.”
“Well then, just hit me up whenever you need me,” I say, going back to raking the leaves. “I’m a pretty busy guy, but I’m not busy all the time.”
“Hmm, I’m not super convinced you aren’t busy all the time,” Eliza counters. “Vanessa says you are, anyway.”
I look up at her at the mention of the name. “So, you and Daniel’s wife hit it off, then?” I don’t know why it feels like I’m on the edge of my seat, but for some reason, I’m hoping like heck the two of them become close friends.
“Yeah.” She grins. “You could say we’re on our way to being besties. ”
I shake my head at her goofy response. “Well, that’s good. I’ll buy you some BFF bracelets or something.”
“Oh no need for that,” she chirps. “We’ll make our own.”
We both erupt in laughter, and it feels freaking good.
Her green eyes meet mine as the laughter fades, and I catch myself feeling all the things…
Is she feeling this too ?
However, before we can say anything more, the front door opens and Ms. Marilyn steps out onto the porch.
I get back to raking the leaves, feeling like I just got caught goofing off at work or something.
“You two sure are getting along…” she says.
“Yeah,” Eliza answers before I can. “I’m probably keeping him from getting anything done.”
“You’ve only slowed me down a little.” I shoot her a wink as Marilyn laughs.
“Well, to be honest, I just wandered out here to see if you’d like to join us for dinner. I made a homemade pot pie.” Marilyn’s eyes jump to the rake in my hand. “I appreciate the help, but you don’t have to do all that. How about you skip work tonight? You’re always working, and with the festival coming, you could probably use the night off.”
I hesitate, glancing over to Eliza to try and read her face, but her expression is completely unreadable.
I can’t tell if she wants me to join them for dinner, or if she’d rather me leave altogether .
“Please, Nick.” Marilyn’s voice softens. “Your mom already told me that you’re planning to do all this work for free, and that you’re not even charging us for the materials.”
I push away the tinge of irritation in my chest.
I don’t like it when my mom outs my plans.
“Well…”
“Take the night off,” Eliza finally says, her lips tugging upward into a smile. “Granny’s pot pie is to die for.”
That’s all I need to agree to dinner.
Fifteen minutes later, the yard is picked up and I’m sitting across from Eliza and Ms. Marilyn at the dinner table. “This smells amazing,” I remark, glancing down at the steaming pile of vegetables, crust, and filling.
“Just wait til you taste it,” Eliza quips, a smile on her face. She spears a huge bite with her fork and blows on it.
“Before we dig in, I think it’s best if we say a little prayer of thanks,” Marilyn announces, extending out her hands to both Eliza and me.
I glance over at Eliza, who nods in agreement, before slowly setting her fork full of food down. I hold in my chuckle, as her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and then reach out to clasp Ms. Marilyn’s hand.
“Go on you two, join hands,” Marilyn urges with a gentle smile. Eliza shoots me an awkward smile, but we both comply with her granny’s request, interlocking our hands on top of the table. Her skin is warm and soft, fitting perfectly against my calloused palm; a tingle runs up my arm at the contact. I fight to keep my cool as Ms. Marilyn begins the prayer, giving thanks for the food before us.
As the prayer concludes, we all say “Amen” in unison, and then Eliza eagerly picks up her fork once more, taking a bite of the pot pie and closing her eyes in delight at the taste.
I follow suit, noting that both women’s eyes are on me. As soon as the creamy, smooth texture hits my tongue, I realize it’s everything they said it would be.
“So?” Marilyn leans in, her eyes wide. “What do you think?”
I force myself to prematurely swallow the bite so as not to be rude when I answer her. “I think it’s amazing.”
“Ah ha! I told ya, everyone loves it.” Marilyn smirks as she nudges Eliza, giving her a funny, playful look.
“Okay, okay, you’re right. We haven’t found anyone who doesn’t like it.” She laughs, reaching for her glass of tea.
“And you won’t,” Marilyn retorts. “But anyway, we’re really glad that you joined us for dinner, Nick. The more the merrier.”
“Of course,” I say. “Thanks for having me.” I then turn to Eliza. “So, how’s your photography business coming? Any potential clients?”
Eliza shrugs. “A couple old friends want me to come to Chicago and take pictures, but that’s not going to happen any time soon.”
I nod. “I’m sure you just have to give it a little time, and before you know it, you’ll have more clients than what you have time for. ”
“Wouldn’t that be crazy ,” Eliza replies, though her tone is full of disbelief. “I’d be happy to just make enough to start moving my savings upwards instead of slowly downward.”
“Hey, you gotta dream big.” I smile.
“Nick’s right,” Marilyn adds, giving her a look. “There’s no doubt you have the talent. You just have to put in the hard work and believe in yourself.”
“But you know what,” I say, my heart skipping a beat as I gather my courage. “You might be able to find some potential clients at the Pumpkin Festival this weekend. I could take you?” I hardly manage to choke out the last question, my mouth feeling like cotton.
Eliza freezes, her fork full of chicken pot pie suspended in midair. “Um…”
“Well, I think that’s a great idea,” Ms. Marilyn urges, giving me a thoughtful grin. “And it’d probably be a lot more fun to go with Nick than me. Besides, I already promised Martha that I’d attend the festival with her; we’ll be handing out candy at the church booth.”
“Are you sure?” Eliza turns to her grandma. “I could sit at the booth with you.”
My heart sinks at the response. I can’t tell if she’s just being a thoughtful granddaughter or if she’s trying to avoid me.
“Oh please,” Ms. Marilyn dismisses her. “You need to get out and about, not be stuck at a booth with a couple of old ladies—not that your mother is old,” she adds quickly, shooting me a wink .
Eliza goes silent for a moment before she finally lets out a sigh, turning to me. “Okay, sure. It might be fun to go to the festival. As friends.”
Friends.
Well, that was clear.
But I smile anyway because it’s still a win in my book. “Perfect.”