Chapter 11 Silas
SILAS
Wood Hollow was freaking beautiful in springtime.
The gritty slush and occasional patches of dirty snow were the only imperfections in the picturesque landscape of evergreens, maples, and elm trees lining the winding road into town.
Blue skies, chirping birds, and minimal traffic made it even better.
I passed the mill and Log Cabin Diner as I turned left onto Main Street.
The sidewalks were clean and the awnings looked fresh—except for the one missing over Dean’s Shoe Repair.
I continued farther than I had on my last visit, noting the lines at Rise and Grind and the donut shop, the two old men sitting on a bench playing chess, and a little girl with bouncing ringlets skipping beside her mother.
It was all so fucking wholesome. If anyone told me I’d accidentally driven onto a movie set, I would have believed them. But this was definitely not Hollywood.
A copse of tall trees created a fork in the road ahead, a natural signpost delineating the commerce section from the schools and older residences.
Eenie-meenie-miney-mo. I took a left and drove slowly on a narrow road, passing the park, the elementary school, a medical clinic, a police and fire station.
Beyond that was forest. The road looped at St. Matthew’s Church, circling back into town.
The high school and the original residential area were on this end.
I noted that the buildings were older but in good condition.
No peeling paint, no graffiti, no cracked glass or uneven pavement.
The trees had recently been pruned, and purple and red flowers had been planted in boxes with spiral topiaries along the sidewalk.
I parked the Jeep at the curb in front of Lulu’s Boutique and scanned the vicinity as I zipped my jacket. It wasn’t exactly bustling, but there was a buzz in the air that made me smile.
Yeah, I was happy to be back.
“Well, look who’s here!” Davey called out as I stepped up to the counter at the coffee shop.
“You have a good memory,” I commented.
“Selectively, yes. You made the cut. Regular ol’ Americano, or can I tempt you with a latte?”
“A latte, please.”
“You got it, sugar!”
My cheeks heated on cue. I wasn’t used to being flirted with in public by a man…with an audience of gigantic loggers, no less.
I nodded at the extra-large dude wearing bright-orange suspenders and a matching hard hat. The army-green rucksack over his shoulder tugged at the seams of his short-sleeved T-shirt. I couldn’t help noticing his arms were covered with tattoos, and his beard was halfway down his chest.
Did Davey flirt with that guy too? Seemed dangerous. I could hold my own, but Davey was short and compact and—
The big man was staring at me.
I gave a quick up-nod in greeting and started to turn…just as he shoved a meaty hand between us.
“Beau. You play football.”
Okay, that was Caveman Speak 101, but I was fluent. I shook his enormous paw and glanced at the four similarly dressed men lingering near the door. I had a strong feeling they all worked for Cooper.
This unexpected glimpse into his world excited me, and I momentarily forgot that Beau claimed to know me.
“I do,” I replied, dropping his hand. “Silas Anderson.”
“Yep. I knew it.” Beau hiked his thumb at the brawny foursome at the door. “They didn’t believe me. Heard you were playing again. Is that true?”
My smile dimmed slightly. “It might be.”
“Hope so. You’re good, man. Love to see you out there.”
“Thanks.”
Beau grunted in acknowledgment. “You visiting someone here or—oh! You own that big house next to Coop’s, right?”
“My buddy does, but—”
“Cool.” He intercepted, his gaze flitting to someone or something behind me. “You staying long?”
“Not sure.”
Davey cleared his throat. “Latte’s ready.”
“Oh, right. Nice to meet you…Beau.”
“You too.”
Beau frowned, but he was nodding and his lips were sort of curled in an imitation of a partial smile. He met Davey’s eyes for a beat before he lumbered away.
“He’s in love with me,” Davey whispered, motioning for me to tap my credit card.
“Uh…”
He snickered. “What? You don’t believe me? I’m a hot commodity, I’ll have you know.”
“I believe you. Thanks.” I raised my cup and attempted to make my escape.
“Hey, you didn’t get a pastry. If you’re in the mood for something new and delish, go to Dexter’s. He’s debuting a bacon and jalapeno donut today.”
“Bacon and jalapeno?” I repeated.
“That man could sell five-day old jelly rolls out of his great aunt’s minivan and I’d buy them,” a woman in line piped up.
Davey squealed and held a hand up for a high five. “Girl, you know it. Silas, meet Layla. Layla, Silas.”
“You’re Cooper’s new neighbor,” she announced. “Sorry! Don’t be alarmed. I swear I’m not following you. Cooper’s my boss.”
“Ahh. Okay.” I sipped my coffee, eyeing the bubbly brunet for a moment.
I hadn’t had this much impromptu social interaction that wasn’t in a bar or nightclub in a while.
I was rusty as fuck. “Yeah, I just got in yesterday. Caffeine first and maybe a jalapeno donut, but I’m not sure I’m brave enough for that combo. ”
Layla chuckled. “Me either, but I’d take one for the team. Hell, I’d sacrifice the last few minutes of my break to run that particular errand for you, but I have a shipment to process. The usual for me, please, Davey.”
“You got it. Bye, Si! Welcome back.” Davey waved.
I thanked him and ducked out of the coffee shop with a smile on my face.
I moved on to Wood Hollow Market, where I bumped into an elderly couple arguing over Kashi versus Muesli in the cereal aisle.
“Get the Mucinex, Harry. I like that one,” a white-haired woman with braids and a tie-dyed purse declared…at the top of her lungs.
“No, you like the Kashi. The fruity flavor.”
“Do you know me?” she griped without heat. “Get the Mucinex.”
Harry grumbled as he reached for a box on the top shelf. There was no way he’d manage it without some acrobatics.
“I’ll get that for you,” I said, handing him the cereal.
Harry offered a toothy grin. “Thank you, young man!”
The woman toddled toward us and smiled, then pointed at the box and nearly keeled over with hilarity. “Muesli, not Mucinex! Ha!”
Harry chortled too. “Oh, yeah. Mucinex is the diarrhea stuff.”
“Oh, Harry. Don’t say the D word in polite company. You’ll scare the poor man.” She smacked Harry’s elbow lightly and winked at me. “You’re wrong, anyway. Mucinex is for your congestion.”
“I’m not congested.”
“I didn’t say you were, but if you were…you’d take the medicine for it.”
Harry snickered. “Not eat cereal?”
They were off to the races again, laughing like hyenas. It wasn’t even remotely funny, but I was charmed.
“Is that the one you wanted?” I asked.
The woman nodded. “Yes, dear. This stuff is tasty with a cup of nonfat Greek yogurt.”
“Boo! Life is short, eat the pancakes,” Harry advised.
“Harry’s a terrible influence. Don’t listen to him.”
“Rhona probably knows what she’s talking about,” Harry conceded. “We’ve been married for forty-seven years.”
I grinned. “Congratulations. That’s awesome.”
“Awesome! I like that word,” Rhona enthused. “Now…I’m guessing you either made a wrong turn in Elmwood, or you’re visiting a relative. Which is it?”
“I’m visiting, but on my own. No relatives.”
They nodded politely.
“You sure you’re not related to someone from these parts? You look an awful lot like the Bruces. Strong jaw…very handsome.”
“Thanks, but…no. I’m actually staying at a friend’s house by the lake.” I made a small production of dropping a box of Cheerios into my empty cart. “I should—”
“Oh, which house? Our nephew lives by the lake. Do you know Cooper? He’s a mite taller than me and almost as handsome. We think he takes after his mother’s side of the family. Looks a bit like his Aunt Rhona here.”
“No, Coop is my brother Sal’s doppelganger,” Rhona corrected.
I did a double take. “You’re Cooper’s aunt and uncle?”
“We are. Harry and Rhona Lavigne.” Harry did a mini jig, and Rhona added some jazz hands. “And what’s your name?”
“Silas Anderson.” I shook their hands, grinning like a maniac. These two were fucking hilarious. “Now I’m extra pleased to meet you. I’m Cooper’s neighbor…temporarily, anyway.”
“That’s lovely! Well, we’re a little biased, but I’ll tell you, there’s not a finer man in Wood Hollow,” Rhona bragged.
“What about me?” Harry huffed, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
“You’re okay.” She winked, tugging at her husband’s Grateful Dead T-shirt before addressing me.
“How long will you be staying? I’m a terrific cook, if I do say so myself.
I’ll make a batch of my hearty minestrone and my savory biscuits.
We’ll drop them off at Cooper’s and demand that he shares with you. ”
“That would be nice,” I said. “It was great meeting you both.”
“You too, honey.”
I strolled away with a ridiculous smile on face. And it kept getting bigger.
Mandy, the cashier remembered me. She even remembered that I’d asked about a taxi on my previous visit, so she introduced me to Jed, a gray-haired man with a thick mustache and a ruddy complexion who was checking out a rack of chocolate bars specially priced at three for a dollar.
He shook my hand profusely, dug a card from his pocket, and insisted that I give him a call sometime.
He wanted to talk football too. Jed was thrilled to meet a pro player in person, but I wasn’t his first. He’d met Fran Tarkenton in the eighties and boy, that had been something.