CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Y ou haven’t heard anything either?” Daisy asked Whitney as she padded into the kitchen still in her pajamas. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head. Between the heat and heartbreak, her hair could stay in that position all morning with how little she cared.
“No, ma’am,” Whitney said on a sigh, pouring herself a cup of coffee and joining Daisy at the table.
Her friend was dressed for the day in a matching ensemble Whitney knew came from Kim’s Creations. The gingham shorts and tank were a lovely green that made her eyes pop. Her graying hair was loose, hanging to her shoulders. The stove was off and the kitchen was cool, no sign of breakfast or the warmth that came from a shared meal.
Daisy’s finger trailed along the rim of her mug as she mumbled something under her breath. Despite being dressed, it was clear the older woman hadn’t slept well. Her makeup was slightly off, as if she couldn’t keep her hands from trembling. Whitney glanced down at the floor and saw Daisy wore mismatched socks.
“I reckon he’s cooking up a grand gesture for both of us, seeing as how my son acted like a first-class jackass.” Daisy nodded at her own assumption before standing and striding to the stove. “You okay with oatmeal? I’m not feeling very inspired.”
Whitney joined her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “Have you spoken to Paul about all this?”
Daisy placed her hand on Whitney’s and patted it. “Yes, yesterday after Trevor stormed out like a bat outta Hell. He agreed it’s best to wait for Trevor to come to me, but you best believe I expect an A-plus apology. That boy better grovel and beg until he’s hoarse and we’re both satisfied.”
Whitney pulled back. “Daisy, that man doesn’t owe me anything.”
“Hogwash,” Daisy spat, her cheeks flushing. “My son said some pretty nasty things yesterday, and he will make amends.” She turned toward Whitney, locking their gazes. “Now it’s pretty obvious I’m team Tretney, but ...”
Whitney scrunched up her nose. “You came up with a name for us?”
Daisy rolled her eyes. “Focus, please. You know I clearly want you two to ...” She waggled her eyebrows and flapped a hand in the air. Whitney had no idea what the gesture was supposed to mean, but she didn’t interrupt. “But you’re a good woman, Whitney. You deserve a man who treats you as good as gold. If my fool son can’t come correct, then you find someone who can.”
Whitney rubbed over her heart, the organ squeezing in frustration. Don’t get too wound up , she told herself. We don’t know if Trevor is worth the hassle.
Yet as she chopped and toasted pecans for oatmeal, Whitney knew that wasn’t true. Trevor had already made his mark, and she needed to figure out what that meant. She refused to follow the path she took with Baxter. Being a passive participant in their relationship wasn’t for her. She wanted passion, she wanted trust. Right now, Trevor didn’t trust her, and the only passion he showed was anger.
After five minutes of silently snacking on her oatmeal, Whitney had had enough of the sullen atmosphere. She was done wallowing for the morning. “I better get ready for work. Kim has more, new inventory arriving this morning,” Whitney said, wiping her mouth and stacking the dirty dishes.
“Sugar, I’ll handle this. Thanks for your help with breakfast.”
“Anytime,” Whitney replied and got ready for another day on the job.
As she pulled up to the shop and walked inside, she relaxed at the now familiar sights and smells. The air was cool, thanks to the industrial AC unit churning, and it smelled of fabric and vanilla. Kim had a habit of lighting candles throughout the store, adding to the cozy atmosphere. The woman herself was perched on a stool at the counter, typing away on the computer.
“Good morning, Kim. Has the new inventory arrived?” Whitney smoothed down her skirt and joined the older woman.
“Sure did, and I’m logging in so we can start the fun. There’s still a batch of boxes coming later today. I believe this is the plus-sized collection.”
Whitney nodded, nibbling her lip. “I hope you don’t mind me adding a few things.”
Kim pushed her reading glasses up on her head, her lips pursed. “Honey, if it weren’t for you, this place would be a ghost town. I hadn’t thought about expanding anything in ages, so please do not apologize. You’re doing a good job, and I appreciate you.”
“Oh,” Whitney said, her cheeks heating from the praise. “Then in that case, I’ll start tagging.”
Kim handed her an old-fashioned price tag gun and laughed. “Locked, loaded, and ready to go.”
It took less than an hour for Whitney to tag and hang the new arrivals. She’d selected a variety of tops, tunics, and dresses in sizes from 14 to 3X. As a curvy woman herself, she understood firsthand the frustration that came from going to a cute boutique and not finding anything remotely close to her size. Her closets were always full of purses, shoes, and jewelry—accessories she used to supplement to her tired wardrobe when she couldn’t find something in her size.
She was hanging up the last of the tunics when the door opened and a pair of women stepped in. Coincidentally, they were both sturdy women like herself, and they immediately headed in her direction.
“Hiya,” Whitney greeted with a wave. “Welcome to Kim’s Creations. Can I help you find something special today?” She made a point of stepping back from the rack of dresses.
The younger woman gasped and strode over, snatching a pink and purple dress and holding it out in front of her. “This would be perfect for that party, don’t you think, Mom?”
The mother reached out and pinched the fabric between her fingers, covertly checking the label for the size and price. “I think it would, sweetheart. Why don’t you try it on?”
“I’ve got an open fitting room right here—let me get you set up.” Whitney went to work pulling a few other options in the same size and hung them outside the door. She poured two glasses of lemonade before rejoining the customers.
“Isn’t that nice?” the older woman exclaimed, sipping from her lemonade. “Thank you. We’ve been shopping all morning and haven’t taken a break.” Lowering her voice, she added, “Sometimes it’s so hard to find clothes that fit us, you know?” Her eyes quickly flicked over Whitney, her smile genuine.
“I certainly do, ma’am.” Extending her hand, she said, “I’m Whitney by the way, and you two let me know what you need.”
“I’m Marge, and that’s my daughter Megan.”
Just then, the fitting room door opened and Megan stepped out. The smile on her face lit up the shop as she twirled in front of the three-way mirror. “Oh, Mom, isn’t this so cute?”
Whitney handed her the lemonade and beamed. “It flatters your figure, and the pink works well with your skin tone.”
“Right?” She took the lemonade with a thank you and downed it in one go. “Do you have this in other colors? I might want two.”
“Megan, I’m way ahead of you.” Whitney pulled the dresses from the fitting room door and fluffed out the skirts. “I’ve got this dress in two other colors, but there’s also another silhouette you might want to try.”
Twenty minutes later, Marge and Megan were at the counter buying nearly five hundred dollars’ worth of clothes. Marge handed Kim her credit card, and said, “Your shop is so charming. We’re visiting from Auburn, but we’re going to tell our friends about this place.”
“Thank you, Whitney.” Megan held up her bags in victory, her excitement warming Whitney from the inside out.
“You’re welcome. Now go off and enjoy the festival. We’ll see you next time.”
As soon as they were gone, Kim pulled Whitney into a bone-crushing embrace. “You’re a miracle worker, and I already need to give you a raise.”
“Oof.” Whitney extricated herself from the bear hug. “Doing my job.”
“You’re doing more than that, honey. Did you see how happy they were? Here I’ve been ignoring so much about what people want and need.” She tapped her chin, staring outside for a moment. “Do you know anything about social media?”
Whitney shrugged. “Yes?” Truthfully, she had a few pages she’d let collect virtual dust. When it became clear she didn’t have a career, home, or love life to brag about, she rarely went online. Her book collection was a testament to her preference of reading to doom scrolling.
Kim applauded, as if Whitney proved herself to be the next Mark Zuckerberg. “Excellent. I think it’s time we got on ClockTock or Instantgrandma.”
Whitney covered her smirk with a cough. “I’ll, uh, see what I can do.”
Before she fell down the rabbit hole of social media planning, she went to work unpacking a new box. Whitney folded a stack of capri pants, her workload growing with every UPS delivery. Lost in her task, she missed the chime of the bell over the door.
“Oh, goodie!” Kim exclaimed, clapping her hands as if another customer was worthy of a standing ovation. “I love me a good old-fashioned grovel.”
A star-spangled crop top slipped from Whitney’s grasp, her attention on the man in the doorway with his heart—and a lovely arrangement of flowers—in his hands.
“Good morning, Trevor,” Kim said from her perch behind the register. She paused entering their new merchandise to gawk. Leaning over so only Whitney heard, she asked, “If I offer you another raise, can I stay and watch?”
Whitney dipped her head to hide her smile. “No, ma’am. It’s your shop, and I have a feeling it’ll be Pinegrove gossip lickity split anyway.” Already outside, a few women stopped and peered through the window. Whitney hoped it was for her styling skills, but she knew it was for the fireman before her.
“Good morning, Miss Kim,” Trevor greeted, his voice tinged with sadness. He turned to face Whitney and offered an approximation of a grin. But it wasn’t his normal crooked grin, as his eyes remained tense, his shoulders up to his ears. “Good morning, Whitney. Do you have a minute?”
Did she have a minute?
Yes, she did—yesterday when he made a fool of himself. Today, however, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what he had to say. He’d accused her of lying, which, technically, she may have done, but he’d also ghosted her for an entire day. She hadn’t tasted the bitterness of betrayal since Baxter, and two men dropping her in one summer felt like too damn many, in her humble opinion.
Letting out a long exhale, Whitney blinked. Before she said anything, Kim ushered them both to the back of the shop to the office. “You two might as well chat in here. Patsy Williams pulled up out front, and she’ll be all over you two like white on rice. Now get,” she ordered, practically shoving Trevor.
“Trevor insert-middle-name-here-because-I-forgot Mays.” Whitney pulled the door to the tiny office closed. “You have a lot of nerve acting the way you did and then interrupting my work day. Are you crazy?”
“Nicholas,” he replied, throwing her off her rant.
“Excuse me?”
“My middle name is Nicholas.”
Whitney deflated slightly. “That’s nice, being named after your daddy.”
“I like to think so.” They stood awkwardly in the office, both staring over the other’s shoulder. “Were you named after kin, or—?”
Cutting off his line of questioning with a raised hand, Whitney soldiered on. “We are not here to discuss our names, lineage, or anything else family-related.”
Trevor’s shoulders sagged as Whitney chastised him, but she wasn’t finished. After the way he’d carried on at breakfast and then ghosted Daisy and her that night for dinner, she had a good mind to kick his fanny from Pinegrove to Tallahassee.
“Well, that’s not true. I do have a few things to say about family. Do you have any idea how crushed your momma is?” She thrust her hands on her hips and scowled at Trevor, whose ears were turning a perilous shade of violet.
“I’m, um, dropping by the house next.” He held the bouquet out, shaking it gently so the petals and leaves rustled together. “She’s getting the same groveling treatment, although with thirty-one years of guilt piled on top.”
Whitney raised an eyebrow. “I’d make it thirty-two years, to be safe.”
Trevor was in his fireman’s uniform, despite the sweltering weather outside. Sweat pooled at his collar, and Whitney’s resolve crumbled ... only a little. “I really am sorry for how I carried on. It’s not who I am, and I’ve been beating myself up about this all day. Please, Whitney, accept my apology, or at least take the flowers.”
He jostled the bouquet again, and Whitney huffed, taking the flowers and holding them against her chest. “No use letting gorgeous blooms go to waste, but I’m still not forgiving you completely. I know that must have been a shock, but I wasn’t in a great space with the news either. I felt stuck in the middle, and I’d rather like to avoid that in the future.”
“I shouldn’t have called you a liar.” Trevor ran a hand down his face, his eyes dark and sullen. “I’ve been kicking myself since it happened. It ain’t right.”
“No, it ain’t.” Whitney toyed with the ribbon on the stems, eager for something to do with her hands. If they stayed in this cramped space too long, she was likely to close what little distance remained between them and smooth those worry lines from his forehead. She had to admit, he looked terrible.
Trevor perched on the edge of the desk, careful not to disturb the piles of paperwork and receipts. “Look, Whitney. I’m not about to treat you like a free therapist, mostly because I have one that likes to take my money, but I’m clearly working through some stuff.” He muttered something under his breath before continuing. “And I’m discovering I’m not as over the death of my father as I thought, in all aspects of my life. I lost my boss and my dad when he passed, and suddenly having my career tank as my boss dates Momma, well ...” he swore and shook his head. Finally, he met her eyes, his own glistening with unshed tears. “What I’m saying is that I’m truly sorry I dropped my baggage at your feet. You are the nicest person I know, and you’ve been nothing but kind to my mother. My reaction was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”
Whitney put the flowers on the desk, not paying the same attention as Trevor to the stack of invoices teetering on the edge. “Trevor.” She said his name with reverence, absorbing his apology. “That was the nicest, most sincere apology I’ve ever received. Thank you.”
Trevor covered his face with his hands. “You don’t need to forgive me, because I did a terrible thing.” His shoulders shook as he let the tears fall, and Whitney couldn’t stand the distance a moment longer. The man was in pain, and she’d give him what she had.
“Shhh,” she cooed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pulling him to her middle. She held him firm with her left arm, using her right hand to rub circles on his back. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll see.”
Whitney didn’t know how long they stayed in the office, but she wasn’t in a hurry. She’d done more in half a week on the job at Kim’s Creations than she’d managed at her last three temp placements combined. It felt good to have a purpose, but right now it was best to comfort Trevor. Granted, she required a little more groveling to fully forgive him, but she appreciated the time to speak her peace.
That was what Baxter had robbed her of when he left. He hadn’t even tried to reach out after she returned his car; a fact she still couldn’t believe. That almost upset her more than the breakup—learning that her petty revenge hadn’t garnered a reaction.
Now, though, with Trevor, Whitney understood this was different.
“What time is your shift today?” she asked.
“I have to be there in an hour. I’m working second shift to cover for someone on leave.” He rested his head on her shoulder and let out a breath. “Thank you for hearing me out. I don’t expect you to welcome me back into your life with open arms, but I will continue to make amends.”
“I believe you,” Whitney said, smoothing back his cowlick. And she did believe him; she hoped it wouldn’t cost her her heart again. “Now, go talk to Daisy.”
“How is she?” Trevor asked, lips turned down in a grimace.
“She’ll be better after you stop by.” Whitney’s hand dropped as she straightened her skirt and opened the door to the office.
Kim was outside the doorway, very interested in hanging up the new swimsuits. She darted behind a box as if they wouldn’t see her hiding. “Oh, leaving so soon?”
For the first time since he arrived, Trevor laughed. “Yes, Miss Kim. I’m off to see Momma.”
Kim sniffed. “I hope the bouquet you brought her is twice as big. Mother’s hearts need a little more mending.”
Trevor saluted. “Don’t you worry, I bought out the shop.”
“Good,” both Whitney and Kim said in unison.
Hesitating, Trevor reached out and took Whitney’s hand. Tracing a thumb over her knuckles, he said, “I know I’m working late tonight, but can I see you later?”
Whitney cocked her head to the side, as if deep in thought. “You still owe me an ice cream cone.”
“Pick you up at eight for the best banana split of your life?” Trevor offered, his bravado slowly returning.
“I’ll be ready, but only if you do a good job with Daisy.” She winked, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”
“See you tonight.” Trevor grinned, his chin dimple popping. The appearance of that divot had her heart doing somersaults.
She watched Trevor hop in his truck and head toward Daisy’s place. Whitney only hoped that Trevor worked some magic and made Daisy feel better, because that woman deserved more than a broken heart.
They both did.
*
T revor sat in the driveway of the family home for an eternity. After seeing Whitney, after sharing the burden of the truth of his feelings and worries, he simultaneously felt buoyant yet exhausted. He had no idea what to expect from his mother, but he knew he needed to stop being a coward and get out of the car.
Gus announced his arrival as he trudged up the sidewalk to the front door. He let himself in, reaching down to greet the hound. “Hey, boy, is Momma around?”
“I was giving you another five minutes in the driveway before I came out to you,” Daisy said from the doorway of the kitchen. She wore an apron, her hair pinned off her face, a dusting of flour on her cheeks. If his daddy was a stress cooker, his Momma was a stress baker. The air was heavy with the scents of cinnamon and vanilla, the smells of his childhood.
“Momma, I’m ...” Remembering the flowers in his hands, Trevor took a step closer and handed them to Daisy.
“I’ll put these in water,” she said, turning her back as she strode with purpose into the kitchen. Trevor wasn’t certain, but Gus glared at him as he followed her inside.
“I hope when you’re done with your flower delivery, you’re on your way to Whitney.” Daisy retrieved a vase and slammed the cabinet door, the glassware clinking. “That girl is sweet as peach pie in July, and you acted like a damn fool. Son, your daddy would be so disappointed.”
His mother knew exactly how to deliver a blow, and Trevor fell into a chair, his knees shaking at her words. The trouble of it was, Trevor knew he deserved it. And worse.
“I saw her first, over at Kim’s shop.”
Daisy gestured to the flowers, which she’d arranged in a vase his daddy gave her on an anniversary. “I hope you got her some flowers, too.”
Trevor nodded, resting his elbows on the tabletop. “Blooms on Main now has my next paycheck. I spared no expense.”
Daisy sniffed, but finally turned toward her son. “Good. You’ll need to take her out, that is if she wants to see you again.”
“She’s working on forgiving me, but I know I’m on thin ice.”
“She’s a good woman, our Whitney. I’m still thanking the good Lord every day that she stumbled into our lives.”
Trevor sighed but didn’t disagree. “I’m grateful we found her, too.” Snagging his mother’s gaze, Trevor laid it all out on the line. “I’m sorry, Momma. I know talk is cheap, although those flowers aren’t,” he said with a smirk, “but I know I was in the wrong. It’s just that ...” His explanation faltered.
Daisy sat down beside him, resting her hand on his. “Trevor, you’re human. I know you like to think you’re not, but you are. Being human means we muck up situations, and I’m no different.”
Trevor turned his hand over to squeeze his mother’s. “You didn’t muck up anything, Momma. If you and Chief want to date, it’s none of my business.”
“That’s true, but I should have told you the truth before. At first, I didn’t think much of it, since I know you love and respect him as I do, but now I’m seeing it through your eyes. It wasn’t right to go behind your back like that, son. I apologize.”
“Apology accepted, but I need to say something else.” He released his mother’s hand and covered his face. “I’m a mess, Momma.”
“I’ll put the kettle on,” she said, rising and retrieving a set of tea cups before fumbling for her favorite mix of herbal teas. “Cookies are almost done, then we can have a proper chat.”
Trevor squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the sounds of his mother pottering around the kitchen. If he fixated on her footfalls and clattering utensils, he’d swear he heard Jessie down the hall playing the piano or Daddy out back with the lawn mower. For all the time he came to the family home, he tried to keep these memories at bay, because as much comfort as they brought, there was still someone missing.
“I know you’re going to think this is crazy,” he started once Daisy was seated again. She poured two cups of tea and slid a plate of snickerdoodles over to him. He picked up one of the cookies and ate it whole, savoring the warm, spicy dough.
“Try me,” Daisy retorted, breaking a cookie in half and tossing a piece to Gus.
Gus snarfed the cookie down nearly as quickly as Trevor had before sauntering off to the spot by the door and dozing in the sunlight. Ah, the life of a dog.
“I know you loved Daddy,” he said, dusting crumbs from his fingers.
“Love,” she corrected. “It never feels past tense to me. My relationship changing with Paul isn’t going to change that.”
For some reason, that made Trevor feel a little better. Deep in his soul he knew his mother would not, and could not, replace his father, but hearing the truth from her directly put him at ease. “I need to talk with Chief about this,” he groaned.
Daisy laughed. “Maybe you could start calling him Paul when you’re off the clock? I’m not saying he’s moving in or anything, but your paths are going to cross. It would be nice if he didn’t feel like your boss when we all spend time together.”
Trevor raised an eyebrow. “You want to spend time with me and Paul?”
“No, Trevor. I’m going to cut you completely out of my life now that I have a ...”—she hesitated—“boyfriend?”
Wrinkling his nose, Trevor barely contained his laughter. “Gentleman friend?”
She swatted his arm. “Son, that makes me sound ancient. I’m still in my fifties, thank you very much.”
“I know, Momma.”
Daisy reached out and gently tugged on Trevor’s earlobe. It was a nervous habit from his youth. Whenever he got overwhelmed, young Trevor pulled on his earlobes. Once they were out at an amusement park and he’d gotten lost. By the time Jessie and his dad found him, he’d practically yanked his ears clean off his head.
“I love you very much, son. I know this is a lot to take on, especially with losing the promotion, but please trust Paul and I only want the best for you.”
“I know, and I love you, too.” The silence stretched around them, and the tension in Trevor’s shoulders slowly eased.
Daisy stretched, the pressure of their spat melting away. “I think we should get everyone over to the house for a picnic after the festival is done. I haven’t seen Smithy in ages, and he keeps dodging my invites for breakfast with you boys.”
This was news to Trevor. “He does?” He racked his brain, trying to remember when Smithy started pulling back. It usually coincided with Jessie’s visits home, or in some cases the lack of visits home.
Daisy nodded sagely. “I haven’t seen him since Jessie’s surprise visit a couple months ago.”
Trevor had been out of town for a training session, expecting to be promoted, and missed his sister’s brief stay. “I didn’t know he’d come over while she was in town.” His mother’s expression was coy, but Trevor’s gut tightened. “You know something, don’t you?”
“I’m not saying I know anything, but those two are still...” She flapped her hands in the air, head tilted up in thought. “They’re like a match and a stick of dynamite. On their own they are fairly harmless, but put them together and KABOOM!” She held her hands out and wiggled her fingers.
Trevor scratched his chin. “You know, Smithy asked about Jessie again.”
“Poor boy is still smitten. If I ever get my way, she’ll move home and appreciate there’s good stuff in Pinegrove.”
“Good stuff meaning her high school sweetheart?”
Daisy was exacerbated. “Good stuff like her mother, brother, and a man who always treats her right.”
“But she likes helping people,” Trevor said, jumping to his sister’s defense.
“Pfft, like she can’t help her own neighbors? For heaven’s sake, sugar, if I want to hear that load of nonsense I’ll call Jessie herself.” She patted his hand and stood, gathering their tea cups and putting them in the sink to wash later. “You’re about to be late for work, not that I’m not enjoying our time together.”
Trevor kissed her cheek before leaning down to rub Gus’s belly. “Thanks for talking, Momma.”
“Anytime, sugar. Now you go talk to Paul and come by and see Whitney.”
“You’re as bad as Gus with a bone,” Trevor teased. “We’re taking our time here. In case you didn’t notice, I dug myself into a hole.”
“And you’ll find a way out. I’ve been praying for Whitney for years, you know.”
Trevor wrinkled his nose. “You’ve only just met her?”
Daisy rested a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “Son, a mother wants the best for her children. At night, when I’m talking to the Good Lord”—she paused and pointed up at the ceiling—“I ask him to bring Jessie home safe and sound. If I’m feeling particularly frisky, I ask that Smithy and she reconcile.”
Trevor winced. “Please tell me you’re not wishing for me and Virginia to get back together.”
“For the love of ...” She scoffed and whacked the back of his head. “No, you dope. I prayed that a sweet woman who will love and respect you would come into your life. Little did I realize she’d fall right into our laps at The Pecan Pit.”
Ever since he’d met Whitney, Trevor thought back on that night with fondness. He would never have forgiven himself if Javi had made a move, or worse, if she’d gotten back on the road. Whitney was everything Virginia wasn’t, and it was high time he showed her that. “I’m going to swing by after my shift tonight. I’m taking Whitney out for ice cream.”
Daisy beamed. “Perfect. I’ll make sure she doesn’t fill up on cookies. Now, get to work, sugar.”
Trevor slid behind the wheel of his truck and pulled out onto the road. As the familiar sights of Pinegrove zipped past his windshield, he pulse slowed. He felt better now than he had in months. His momma seemed truly happy, and he couldn’t deny having Whitney around was the brightest spot of every day.
When he pulled into his parking spot at the station, Chief Warren was already there, standing in the parking lot talking to one of the guys from the B shift. Trevor raised his hand in greeting as he strode to the front door.
“Wait a minute, son,” Paul called out.
When he and Trevor were alone, he rested his hands on his hips, and said, “Do you have a couple minutes? I’d like to talk to you about something.”
Trevor squared his shoulders, ready for whatever the chief had to say. “Yes, sir, let me drop my gear at my desk and I’ll ...”
But Chief Warren shook his head. “Why don’t we take this conversation on the road? I haven’t had lunch yet.”
“I’m covering for Waller today, so I’m ...”
Chief reached out and clapped Trevor’s shoulder. “It’s handled, son. Let’s go get some lunch.”
And with that, Trevor got into the chief’s car. They drove past the café, Carl’s, and the barbecue place, right through Main Street.
“Where are we going?” Trevor asked, his pulse kicking up as they passed the Thanks for visiting Pinegrove sign at the edge of town.
“I’ve got an issue at the station, son,” Paul said, his hands squeezing the steering wheel, knuckles turning white as the rare Georgia snow. “And I need your help to figure it out.”