Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Luke
The melon options were getting better and better at the grocery store.
“Hi!” Kylie said, clearly surprised to run into him and Harriet in the produce section of Kendrill’s Market, the one and only real grocery store in town.
Their signature red plastic basket, shaped like a–what else?
–heart, was hanging from her ski-jacket-covered forearm.
It was Sunday, after church, and he marveled at her presence.
Two and a half days ago, he found her in that donation box.
A day and a half ago, he hired her to be his nanny.
Colleen ran into her at Mountain Dragon last night, getting takeout.
And now…
Luke stood in front of the cantaloupes, thumb pressing the dot on the end, the way his mom had taught him.
Ripe. Perfect. Ready to devour and enjoy.
“Hi, yourself,” he said with a smile as he put the fruit in his shopping cart, Harriet standing on tiptoe to peek into Kylie’s basket. Strawberries, yogurt, half and half, powdered sugar, and assorted herbs were all he saw.
“Where’s the glitter?” Harriet demanded, frowning. “We need more for muffins.”
Kylie saluted her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Daddy, I’m going to the bakery to get the free kid’s cookie. Last time, you said I could go alone. I want to do it again.”
“No problem.”
“And every time, from now on!” she added emphatically as she disappeared toward that side of the store. The place was small, and everyone in town knew her.
He wasn’t worried.
“She is definitely the boss,” Luke grumbled, earning a hearty laugh from Kylie.
Which triggered his own.
A tingling began in his quads, creeping up his back, filling out the base of the neck, feeding into his eyes. Peripheral vision widening, he was all too aware of why this feeling was spreading over him.
It was the primitive sense of being watched.
Because in Love You, Maine, gossip was a kind of currency.
And he and Kylie were the latest gold rush. Bitcoin had nothing on the volatility of rumors and scandal involving potential romance.
“Hey there, Luke,” called out Ed Khouri, the head butcher. Actually, the only butcher. There wasn’t any need for more in a town so small. Even during tourist season, when the town’s numbers swelled by a factor of ten, butchers weren’t in high demand.
Luke nodded, Ed’s eyes lighting up with innuendo.
Great. Ed was married to Nadine down at the station.
In his mid-seventies, he was still strong as an ox, though their grandson Mark was being trained in the family business, too.
Ed had worked at Kendrill’s for Luke’s entire life.
The store might not be his, but the meat counter certainly was.
“I see you eat healthy,” Luke commented, peering in Kylie’s basket, ignoring Ed.
Her eyes drifted to his shopping cart, which currently held a two-pack of WD-40, two enormous blocks of toilet paper, a three-pack of duct tape, a cantaloupe, and a pair of pantyhose.
Kylie cleared her throat. “I don’t think I want to know how you eat.”
He cringed. “I can explain everything.”
“Pantyhose?”
“They’re a great makeshift wattle.”
“Waddle?”
“W-a-t-t-l-e. I’ll fill it with mulch and use it to divert a drainage problem in the back yard.”
“Clever.”
“Thank you.”
“And the rest?”
“Well…”
“You have fun with your pantyhose, lubrication, and that nice round handful,” she cracked, eyeing the melon, which she plucked out of his hand and sniffed. She put it back on the display, picked up another, sniffed it, and handed it over to him.
“What was wrong with the other one?”
“Slightly underripe.”
“You know the difference?”
“My mom taught me.”
“My mom taught me to press my thumb in the spot on the end. If it’s soft, but not too soft, it’s perfect and ripe.”
“I guess we have different skill sets for produce, then. Complementary, but different.”
“Exactly how it should be.”
Her eyes flared slightly, and he wondered how she took that.
“How is your mom? And your dad? I meant to ask, but things got kind of busy yesterday.”
“Mom and Dad are the same. Running the tree business. Dad wanted Dennis to take over, but he’s staying in the army.”
“That’s right! He’d been in the army for years when I left town.”
Luke nodded. “And Kell is in L.A.”
“He lives there?”
“God, no!” The way that came out made him hurry to explain, laughing a bit. “Kell’s here to stay. His girlfriend, Rachel, is from L.A.”
“I always thought Kell would end up marrying a local.”
“So did we. But he went to UMass ag school, got his certified arborist credentials, spent a year in D.C. doing environmental policy, and came home.”
“Did he meet Rachel in D.C.?”
Luke hesitated, trying to condense the story into a few sentences. Instead, he smiled.
“It’s a long story, but a good one. Happy to tell it over coffee sometime.”
“Sure!” She looked uncertain. “I didn’t mean to pry.”
“You’re not. You’re just asking about people you remember. That’s called being curious and caring, Kylie.”
“Thanks.”
If it weren’t for all the eyes on them, Luke would step closer, bring her in for a hug, then take her out for coffee and catch up. And he was close to doing that, but then:
“DADDDEEEEEE!!!”
Harriet came running back to him, clutching two big apples.
“Shhh,” he said, trying to get his little girl to stop the shrieks that peeled paint.
“Sorry!” she said, chest heaving from exertion. “They don’t do cookies anymore!” She pouted. “It’s a fruit basket, but you get two. They had my favorite!”
“Your favorite?” Kylie asked.
“Honeycrisp!”
“Good to know.”
The moment was lost, Kylie now shifting from adult mode to kid mode, the connection fraying between them.
“Harriet eats a ton of cantaloupe. I need another one, and these melons won’t squeeze themselves,” he joked, then felt like an idiot the second the words were out.
Kylie picked up another from the display, smelled the end, then handed it to him.
“Bye, guys. See you tonight.”
The tips of Kylie’s ears turned bright red and she walked slowly away, giving him a fine view of her assets.
She’d grown into a luscious woman.
One with a smart mouth, too.
Back in high school, she was a sweet, unassuming–but smart–young woman. He’d liked how easy it felt to spend time with her. Being with her meant no one pressured him to be Luke, the captain of the baseball team. Luke, expected to work for his dad’s tree service. Luke, honors student.
Luke, descendant of Abram Luview, town founder.
With Kylie, he could be free and easy, who he was at the core and nothing more.
Because that was enough with her.
Was it enough now?
The damn clause in the contract they’d signed on Friday reared up, smacking him upside the head.
No.
No.
He couldn’t think about her that way.
Harriet needed her more than he did.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
He and Harriet finished shopping, the back of the car filled with two weeks’ worth of groceries, save a few milk and bread runs. Since Amber died, this was how he operated: an economy of time, always.
Had to be super-efficient or he couldn’t hold all the pieces together.
Harriet had wheedled some cocoa peanut butter cereal out of him and two extra bags of butterscotch chips for homemade cookies.
Fair enough.
But the edible sparkles got eyebrows raised when he checked out. No sign of Kylie there, either. Given her single status, he assumed shopping trips were shorter for her.
This Sunday was different, with his parents in Germany.
Normally, if he wasn’t working, they headed to church in the morning, Harriet eager to peel off and join the kids in Sunday School.
Luke was grateful for an hour where she was entertained and he sat in a pew, just a passive listener, soaking in something meaningful that he didn’t have to act on.
Thinking was overrated.
Especially for a guy who was a doer for a living.
Luke worked the night shift tonight, so Kylie was coming over at ten p.m. He appreciated her flexibility. Nicole had groused at the occasional weird shift, but Kylie took it in stride when he mentioned it, cracking a joke about getting paid to read and sleep.
“Harriet? Honey? Can you be a helper and grab these two bags?” he asked her as they unloaded the trunk.
Part of parenting, his mom had told him, was letting go of doing things the most efficient way.
You had to learn to let your child gain skills and abilities, which in turn gave them self-confidence and competency.
Even if it took ten times longer to do a simple task.
At six, Harriet could carry two bags.
“Are they light ones?”
“Here.”
“It’s too heavy, Daddy!”
“You’re a strong kid.”
“I can’t do it! It’s too hard.”
“You can do hard things.”
That was the phrase the child therapist had suggested he use to give Harriet more resilience.
You can do hard things.
During the worst of moments, he’d used it plenty on himself, too.
As they reached the front door, he keyed in the code and opened it, Jester immediately at his knees. Harriet knew better than to dump the bags at the doorway, and with great sighing fanfare, plunked them on the dining table.
Luke did the same, then gave her a fist bump.
“Good job. Now let’s get the rest.”
“There’s more?”
Five minutes and two more trips later, Harriet put the dry goods away while Luke played fridge Tetris to fit everything in. He liked having a full fridge. It cut down on short runs to the store, which were hard to do with a little kid.
He started to make himself a cup of coffee, but Harriet bounded up to him and said sweetly, “When can we FaceTime Gamma and Gampa?”
He looked at the clock. Noon. Which meant seven p.m. in Germany.
Except they were on some river cruise for the next couple of days.
“We can’t tonight, but in a few days.”
She pouted.
“I’m bored.”
“I can tell.”
“When’s Kylie coming over?”
The mention of her name made him smile.
“Ten o’clock.”
“But I’ll be in bed!”
“Yes. You can play with her before school tomorrow.”
“That’s no fun!”
“You like fun, don’t you?”
“Duh, Daddy!”
“Hey! Where’d you learn that?”