13. Indiana
“ H e’s gone now,” Winnie says, poking her head into the back kitchen.
Doing my best to appear unaffected, I ask, “Who?” while tying my apron strings.
She huffs a little laugh. “The grump who was just in here and unfortunately lives next door to you.”
“Oh. Him. ” I smirk.
“I’m sorry he said that. I don't think he really meant it, but it’s not my place to apologize for him.”
“I agree and also see his point. He didn’t agree to this because he thought it was a good idea for himself or his family. He only did it because he cares about you.” I pause, sighing. “Which unfortunately means he’s not all bad,” I surmise.
“Oh…you’re one of those glass-half-full people, aren’t you?” she accuses.
“Guilty.” I chuckle.
She grins back at me, grabbing a bright-yellow water bottle from the counter. “I’m working on being more like that. I can be a little doom-and-gloom at times.”
“Really?” That surprises me. I haven’t gotten that vibe from her at all. She takes a drink, nodding as she sets the bottle back down.
“Yep. I struggle a lot with anxiety. It’s taken some time, but I’ve been able to get a handle on it. Living in this town helps—a lot. I hope you feel welcome here. It’s a really great community to be a part of,” she tells me.
I grin. “I must have missed the parade in my honor,” I quip.
“Stick around. I’m sure you’ll get one. Hell, I’ll throw you one just for working here.
I don’t think I could have kept going on like I was.
I was here just about every day of the week from morning to night.
And as much as I love this little bakery of mine—I was starting to get burned out,” she admits.
“Honestly, I’m more than happy to be of service. I’m still a little in shock that you wanted me here. You did read my application all the way through, right? And you heard me when I said I have zero bakery experience?” I question.
“I wouldn’t say zero. You baked a loaf of bread just a couple of days ago, and it looked amazing.”
“Thank you. For this opportunity.” For some reason, Winnie’s hands-on approach to me makes me feel emotional.
I’ve always been an emotional person. Mad, sad, angry, even hungry.
I feel it all and feel it deeply. Han’s always been the stoic one.
She’s always kept herself in check, never giving too much away.
My chest aches. I miss her. I’ll call her tonight, maybe after a glass of wine—or two.
“You don’t have to thank me again. I’m happy you’re here, but I do need to get into the zone back here to get all the breads ready for tomorrow morning so Anna actually has food to sell. ”
“Say no more. I’m heading out front to learn the ropes.” Giving her a salute, I back out of the kitchen to shadow Anna the rest of the afternoon.
A few hours later, I’m parked in front of the guesthouse.
I’m covered in flour, and there’s a big coffee stain on my white tennis shoes.
I probably shouldn’t expect my shoes to stay white, but I’m still going to try to scrub them.
It’s still light out. Hours still until the sun starts to set.
I get out of my car, and before I even hit the steps, a bright-orange square catches my attention.
I groan. Great, I’m probably being evicted.
Marching up the stairs, I snatch it from the door; a soft metal clink sounds against the porch at my feet.
There’s anger gathering inside me at the nerve of this man.
Does he think living here was my first choice?
I’ve done nothing wrong here. I’m quiet, I don’t bother anyone.
Well, there was kicking him into the lake—and seeing him naked, but not since then!
The swirling feelings completely dissipate as I bend to pick up the metal object, reading his note.
I’m sorry I was rude. I’m not used to having neighbors. Here’s a key to the shed between our houses. The paddles for all the boats are in there. And LIFEJACKETS. Help yourself .
Knox
I grin like a full-fledged idiot. He’s not kicking me out. He’s letting me in.
Well, he’s letting me into his shed. That counts for something.
Running into the house and grabbing a bag that I need to unpack into the dresser soon, I find my swimsuit and a linen button-down to put on over it.
Smiling, I pull out my leather, wide-brimmed hat next, another gift from Han.
A replica of Indiana Jones’s. My parents’ names may have been on the tag that Christmas, but I knew it was from her.
I rub some sunscreen on, tying a white bandanna around my neck, and grab my sunglasses before sliding into my strappy water sandals—a new purchase but one the salesperson at the outdoor store said would be a good investment for the terrain here.
Whatever that means. I bought them because they’re a pretty terracotta color, and I am a slut for fun-colored footwear.
Making my way around the side of the house, I see a trail that connects each of the houses' respective yards. I follow it to the small shed and use my newly gifted key to unlock the door. Before I step into the dark shed out in the middle of nowhere, I quickly look around. I’ve watched enough documentaries, Lifetime Movie Network, and listened to enough true crime podcasts to know that maybe accepting the key and going to this man's shed is just on this side of not safe.
Well here we go, it’s either some type of weird-ass trap and I’m about to be murdered, or and I’m really hoping it's this one, it is a true olive branch, and I’ll find the paddleboard paddle in here so I can teach myself out on the lake.
I take that first step and see a light switch just inside.
I flick it, and the whole room is illuminated by soft amber lights.
I don’t see any chains or a chair with restraints, but the way it's so organized is giving me serial-killer vibes. Heavy.
I walk down the row of paddles, there are wooden ones, aluminum, rubber, thick plastic, short, tall, two-sided, and finally I see the one with a teal handle that matches the paddleboard out at the dock.
After removing it from the hook, I’m set but don’t leave just yet.
Framed photos on the shed wall draw my eyes to them.
There are three boys in one; I can see it’s Knox and Rhett, the other boy must be the third brother.
Winnie wasn’t even kidding about good genes.
Then there are a few of her in a group of people.
I see a recent one of Hazel with an older couple, most likely her grandparents.
There are lots of fishing poles and those rubber waders I’ve seen in magazines and on TV.
Hats and rain jackets are all neatly stored and hung up.
There’s a small bench and a wooden desk on the other side.
I see a tabletop magnifying glass and colorful threads and hooks.
He must make his own fishing bait. My lips curve thinking about that big man sitting out here making tiny little lures with his big hands.
When I take in all the items, it makes me think about home. The Holmeses are a family of collectors, and if this shed tells me anything, it’s that Knox may be too. A more organized one, but a collector nonetheless.
Curiosity satisfied, I take my paddle, grab a bright orange vest, and locking the door back behind me, hustle down to the water.
Sally is already out on the dock, and even though I’m sure it’s just a coincidence, it almost feels like she’s waiting on me, which I know can’t be true, but I still like the feeling.
“Hey, girl. Are you going to come out on the boat with me?” She cocks her furry head to the side in response.
“Yeah, I don’t blame you. I have no clue what I’m doing and will most likely end up in the water,” I tell her.
She whines in answer. “Oh, don’t be so nervous.
I’ll be fine,” I mutter, mostly to myself.
I’ve seen people sit on them, so surely I can handle that.
I untie the knot where the board is tethered to the dock and lay the paddle out onto it.
Slowly, like I’m trying not to spook it, I lower myself onto the board.
It’s wobbly, but I can balance. Actually, I feel pretty secure on it.
With that newfound confidence, I rise to my knees—still balancing.
Okay, I work one of my feet forward until I'm in some sort of low lunge. Less comfortable, but I’m okay.
As gracefully as I can, I take the paddle and push myself backward away from the dock.
I inch myself up on my last leg, coming to a full stand.
Now what? Should I paddle? I’m not sure how to paddle.
No, stop it, Indie. I know how to paddle.
Sweeping the paddle through the water on one side then the other annnd…
I’m just going straight back to the dock.
New plan. I paddle backward on my right, and I turn a little fast, almost falling off, but I’m able to recover.
Instead, I keep going and pretty soon, I am out on the lake.
I paddle around until the bottoms of my feet start to feel sore, then sit down again.
The sun is starting to set, and my view is—stunning.
I wish I had Han’s camera. This would be a perfect postcard if I didn’t drop the camera into the water, that is.
Grinning, imagining what she would say if she were here.
“Oh, so she’s outdoorsy now? Okay, Granola Gal!
” I close my eyes, soaking in the last of the sun as a tear makes its way to my chin. I wipe at it. I’m fine. I can be alone.
“You think it’s about time to call it an evening, Indiana?” a deep voice calls from behind, startling me and causing me to almost knock my paddle into the lake.
“Well, hello to you too, Knox,” I quip .
“You’ve been out there a while, and the sun is going down. You shouldn’t be out on the lake after dark,” he reprimands. Has he been watching me?
“I’m not on the lake after dark. I was enjoying the sunset before paddling myself back in,” I retort.
He grunts in reply.