Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
It took Landry a few moments to realize Chad was veering toward the parking lot.
Tightening her grip on his arm, she turned to him with a smile. “I know we can’t get into the Manse tonight, but the garden surrounding it is always spectacular.”
For a second, she thought he might refuse. Then he nodded. “Sounds good.”
The Grand Manse had once been Birdie Hollowell’s home, a stunning nineteenth-century estate bequeathed to the city under one condition: Its gardens and galleries must always be used to enrich the lives of GraceTown citizens.
Even now, in the moonlight, the house stood as a quiet testament to Birdie’s legacy, its white columns glowing softly against the velvety night sky.
As they strolled through the winding paths, the air, thick with the scent of roses and honeysuckle, wrapped around them. Every bloom seemed to lean toward the night, petals trembling as if whispering secrets.
“It was nice meeting Emily,” Landry said, unable to keep from smiling. “I think it’s amazing she’s going to pursue her passion full time.”
Chad scoffed lightly. “Only because the Edwards family is loaded. Otherwise, quitting Crestwood would’ve been reckless.”
The warmth inside her dimmed.
She opened her mouth to snap back but caught herself. Chad, like her father, was practical. He wasn’t trying to crush dreams. He just saw the world in terms of security and logic. Still, the words stung.
She took a steadying breath. “She must have felt secure in her music income before deciding to leave.”
Chad smirked. “She knew the engagement was coming.”
Landry pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to argue. The evening had been lovely—until now. But the dampened mood lingered, and soon, the magic of the garden felt distant.
“It’s getting late,” she said finally. “I have to be up early.”
Surprise flickered across his face. “It’s not that late.”
“It is if you have to be up at five to open a coffee shop.”
Chad let out a breath. “One more reason to find a different job.”
She forced a light tone. “It’d have to be something special to lure me away.”
“A job is a job,” he said. “Good pay and benefits—that’s what matters.”
A quiet sadness settled in her chest. She studied him for a moment, then asked, “Is that why you became a diesel mechanic?”
His expression shifted. “I always liked figuring out how things run. When I was ten, my dad had an old lawnmower he was going to toss. I asked if I could have it, took it apart and figured out why it wouldn’t start.”
Landry smiled, picturing a younger Chad, brow furrowed in concentration. “Did you fix it?”
“Of course.” His eyes took on a faraway gleam. “It was like a puzzle.”
She watched him as he spoke, the way his face lit up, the passion in his voice.
“You love what you do,” she murmured. “A person can’t ask for more than that.”
Chad hesitated as if the words unsettled him, then slowly nodded.
“That excitement and sense of accomplishment is what I feel when a scene comes together in my book. For a reader, a mystery is like troubleshooting an engine—they run into wrong turns, red herrings and dead ends before they finally piece it all together.” Excitement bubbled up as she spoke, the evening, the wine and the conversation all weaving together.
She told him about the plot twist that had struck her earlier, her hands moving as she described it.
She paused, waiting for his reaction. Silence.
When she turned to him, he wasn’t looking at her. Once again, his gaze was far away. He was clearly lost in his own thoughts.
“Did you hear anything I just said?” she asked, her voice quiet but firm.
Chad blinked and refocused. “Of course, I was listening.”
“Really?” She arched a brow. “Then what was my plot twist?”
He hesitated. “You know I’m not good with those details.”
“No, you’re not good at listening,” she said, her voice tight. “Because you don’t care.”
His expression darkened. “Are you really going to ruin the night over this? I bought you tickets to something I didn’t even want to go to.
I was the DD so you could have your overpriced sangrias.
I even walked through a bunch of flowers because that’s what you wanted.
Now you’re mad because I was distracted for a second? ”
Landry inhaled sharply. His words cut deeper than they should have.
“Tell me, Chad,” she said, forcing herself to stay calm. “What distracted you? Was it the butterflies? The bluejay?”
His jaw tensed. “Actually, I was thinking about a truck that came in today. It’s got a knocking sound under load, no clear source. My first thought was injector coking, but—”
Landry held up a hand. “Stop.”
He frowned. “What?”
“That. Right there.” She swallowed hard. “You expect me to listen when you talk about engines. And I do. But when I talk about what I love, you check out.”
“You know I’m not into books—”
“That’s not the point.” She lifted her chin. “I listen to you. You should listen to me.”
Chad dragged a hand through his hair. “Can we just forget this and end the night on a high note?”
His idea of a high note became clear when he invited her back to his place. When she declined, silence settled between them.
Outside her apartment, she unbuckled her seat belt and turned to him. “Thanks for taking me to Summer Serenade Under the Stars. I loved it.”
Chad’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “You know, a lot of women would love to have a guy like me.”
Landry exhaled slowly. Kindred Spirit’s words echoed in her mind.
It is not selfish to want a life that feels true to you. It is brave.
She met his gaze steadily. “And a lot of men would love to have a woman like me. The question is, are we among them?”
His brows pulled together.. “What question? Why can’t you just talk like a normal person?”
“Okay, Chad, I’ll speak plainly.” Her voice didn’t waver. “I take an interest in your life. I listen. I expect the same in return.”
“Don’t act like—”
She held up a hand. “I’m not finished.”
His mouth pressed into a thin line.
“If you think I’m too boring to listen to, if you’d rather date someone else, I will respect that. But be sure that’s what you want. Because I won’t be sitting at home waiting for you. If you want to date other people, you won’t be dating me. So, is that what you want?”
Silence.
For the first time all night, Chad had nothing to say.
Landry nodded once, then stepped out of the car. The cool night air wrapped around her as she shut the door, firm and final. She didn’t look back.
Inside her purse, the envelope from Kindred Spirit waited—a quiet promise, a whisper of something more.
She had let the words comfort her, let them sink into the cracks of her doubts.
Now, the next step was hers to take.
Landry must have reread Kindred Spirit’s letter a dozen times before finally setting her pen to paper, crafting a response she’d take with her to the coffee shop the next morning.
She hadn’t expected the letter to affect her so deeply. The words had settled inside her, filling spaces she hadn’t realized were empty, stirring something she wasn’t sure how to name.
The moment she and Mila had a break, her friend was on her instantly.
“Did you read it?” Mila’s eyes danced with curiosity.
“I did,” Landry admitted, her voice quieter than she’d intended. “It touched me, Mila, in a way I never imagined.”
Mila leaned in. “Do you have it with you? And a copy of what you originally sent?”
Landry hesitated before nodding. “I took pictures of both. They’re on my phone.”
“Let me see.”
With a reluctance she didn’t fully understand, Landry pulled up the images and handed Mila her phone.
“I’ll read yours first.” Mila flashed a small smile. “You know me—everything in order.”
Landry folded her arms and looked away as Mila read. Though they were alone in the break room, a strange vulnerability pressed in on her. Her letter and the response were so personal, so raw, that sharing them almost felt like exposing a wound.
A new thought struck her—what if there were no more letters? From him, anyway.
Mila exhaled softly, her fingers tightening around the phone as she finished reading.
“What?” Landry’s heart skipped at the look in her friend’s eyes. Mila wasn’t speaking, wasn’t teasing like she usually did. “You think it sounds weird, don’t you? Since I was writing about my dream of being a writer, I may have…embellished more than I normally would.”
“Oh, Landry.” Mila blinked, her eyes shining.
Landry lifted her chin defensively. “His is equally flowery.”
Mila sniffled and let out a watery laugh. “It’s amazing. Your words touched me. I could feel your anguish.” She shook her head, her voice full of emotion. “You’re a fabulous writer. If your book is half as good as what you wrote here, I’m going to be telling people I knew you when.”
Warmth swelled inside Landry, unexpected and overwhelming. “Thank you. I just… I tried to speak from the heart.”
Mila steadied herself, wiping discreetly under one eye before shifting her gaze back to the screen. “Now, let’s see what he has to say.”
Landry held her breath as Mila read.
When Mila finished, she let out a dramatic sigh and patted her heart. “I think—no, I know that I’m in love with him.”
Landry let out a half laugh, half scoff. “It might not even be a man. It could just as easily be a woman.”
Mila waved her hand dismissively. “It’s a guy.”
Landry wanted to argue, but truthfully, she felt the same. And yet, as she’d drifted to sleep last night, a strange thought had crept in—what if it was Caroline herself, speaking to her in some way?
She voiced the thought to Mila, who immediately sat up straighter.
“Let me read the response again.” Mila’s expression shifted midread, her brows knitting.
When she finished, she handed the phone back with a look of surprise.
“You’re right. There’s nothing in here that confirms one way or the other. I just assumed—”
“I did, too,” Landry admitted. “So, in my response, I added something that might, well…tell me more about who I’m corresponding with. If they respond.”
Mila’s lips curled mischievously. “If it is a guy, Chad won’t like it.” Then, with a conspiratorial look, she asked, “How was last night anyway?”
Landry hesitated. “The grounds were lovely—”
“They always are.”
“The music was amazing. As were the two sangrias I enjoyed.”
Mila gasped dramatically. “Don’t tell me Chad was the DD.”
Landry chuckled, but Mila’s words hit her with a quiet realization. Before last night, she’d always been the DD when they’d gone out. Chad had never offered before.
“He did,” she said slowly. “I accepted. It was a fabulous evening until—”
She recounted what had happened, Chad’s inattentiveness, the moment she’d realized he hadn’t been listening and the way her frustration had simmered into something sharper, something she could no longer ignore.
Mila, unsurprised, simply shook her head. “He does that a lot.”
Landry frowned. “He does?”
Mila gave a small shrug. “He’s always nodding or tossing out an ‘uh-huh’ when you’re talking. Honestly, your patience for it has always amazed me.” She studied Landry. “But last night, you confronted him. That had to be uncomfortable.”
“It was.” Landry let out a slow breath. “And then, as I was getting ready to get out of the car, he said something about how a lot of women would love to date him.”
Mila snorted. “Throwing down the gauntlet.” She finished off the last of her cappuccino and set the cup down with a decisive clunk. “What did you say to that?”
Landry straightened. “I told him that if he was interested in dating other women, he should let me know.” She pushed back her chair and stood. “That’s how we left it.”
Mila whistled low. “Well, damn.”
Landry didn’t respond, but as she collected her things, she felt something shift inside her. It wasn’t sadness.
It was clarity.