Chapter Four
Kenna
Carter asks us to wait inside the back door while he retrieves Amelia’s car seat. I watch through the window as he gets it and goes over to a mid-size SUV. Nothing snazzy or expensive. Definitely a few years old. But it looks safe enough.
I stare at the car in wonder. Shouldn’t a business owner be driving something bigger? Something… flashier?
When he waves us over, I clutch Amelia’s hand tightly so she doesn’t slip. But the parking lot has been treated with salt since we arrived, and the ice has disappeared. I loosen my grip of her hand slightly but don’t let go. Do I need this tether more than she does?
Carter stands aside and lets me get Amelia situated in the back. When he holds the passenger door open for me, I say, “I figured you for an F-150 guy.”
He snort-chuckles. “Did you now?” Smiling as he rounds the front of the car, he slides into the driver’s seat then turns to me. “It’s easier for Christian to get into a car without that much lift.”
My cheeks flame with embarrassment as the picture of his son flashes in my mind. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
He starts the car. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
There’s nothing dismissive or hurt in his voice, just sincere acknowledgement, and I feel myself relax just a little, thankful I didn’t frustrate or anger him with my assumption.
Not more than forty-five seconds later, we’re pulling into another parking lot. I get the idea we could’ve walked here if it weren’t for the fear of ice on the sidewalks. I laugh. “This really is a small town.”
“You say it like you aren’t used to walking out of your apartment in the city and going down the street to a restaurant.”
“Who said I had an apartment in the city?”
He shuts off the engine and tilts his head. “I thought everyone in New York City lived in an apartment.”
I stifle a smile. Looks like I’m not the only one full of assumptions today. “Not true at all,” I inform him. “There are condos, co-ops, townhomes, row houses, duplexes, and even single-family homes in the outer boroughs.”
“Well, then. I stand corrected. So which one do you live in?”
“I don’t live there anymore. Not as of this morning. But…” I shrug, letting a small smile slip through. “It was an apartment.”
He laughs. “Are you always this feisty?” Then he winks and hops out of the car, quickly freeing Amelia from her car seat like a tried-and-true dad.
When we enter the restaurant, heads turn. Conversations stop. All eyes are on the three of us, as if the King and Queen themselves have made an appearance. It’s… odd. And completely the opposite of how things are in the city, where nobody gives two shakes who’s coming and going.
Carter nods to a guy behind the bar who tells us to take a seat wherever we’d like.
“Booth?” Carter asks.
“Sounds good.”
Amelia slides in before I do, and when I go to sit next to her, she holds up a hand. “I want to sit next to him, Mommy.”
Embarrassed, I say, “I don’t think Mr. Cruz should have to deal with your messy eating habits.”
“I won’t be messy. Please?”
Why do four-year-olds have to say every little thing that’s on their minds? As I attempt to come up with a reason why my daughter shouldn’t be sitting next to a virtual stranger, Carter stands behind me and offers to take my coat. I turn slightly as he eases it off my shoulders.
He hangs my coat on the metal hook mounted between the booths then puts his on top. “I won’t bite,” he says, low enough so only I hear him. “I do have a little experience with children, you know. Especially messy ones.”
He’s a stranger. Some random mechanic who answered the call to tow my car. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t let an unfamiliar man within ten feet of Amelia, let alone share a bench with her. So why am I caving so easily?
I shrug, trying to brush off my reluctance as concern. “Don’t blame me if you get ketchup all over your shirt sleeve.”
He holds up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Then he slides into the booth, helps Amelia take off her coat, and folds it up, reaching over her to tuck it between her and the window.
“Hey, Carter,” a woman says, handing us menus. She’s talking to him, but her eyes are laser-focused on me.
“Hi, Ren. Ren, this is Kenna and her daughter, Amelia. They’re going to be in town for a few days while their car is repaired. Kenna, this is Serenity Calloway, one of the owners of Donovan’s.”
Another small business owner. Does everyone in this town own a business?
I politely extend my arm. “Nice to meet you, Serenity.”
“And you.” Serenity looks to Amelia. “Would you like some crayons?”
“Yes, please.”
Serenity smiles. “Adorable and polite. Very nice. What can I get you all to drink?”
“Do you have faffle fries?” Amelia blurts then points to Carter. “He said you have faffle fries like Chick-fil-A.”
“Absolutely,” she says without hesitation. “Our chef can make anything. Including faffle fries. Now what would you like to drink, little lady?”
After Serenity leaves to fetch our drinks, I’m introduced to a few restaurant patrons as they pass our table on the way out.
Someone calls to Carter from across the room, but Carter waves him off, looking annoyed.
A much older lady leans over the booth behind Carter and Amelia and studies me before sinking back down behind the booth wall.
I lean in and whisper. “Do you know everyone here?”
He glances around. “Pretty much.”
I shake my head. This is all so strange. I grew up in the city. A city of eight million people. A place where days would go by without seeing a single person you know, even when you’re out and about. Even when entering your own apartment building.
I worry that this isn’t a good thing for Amelia and me. If everyone knows everyone else, it might not take long for word to get around that a new woman and her red-headed child are lurking about. Looking around the place, I study the faces of those studying me and hope it won’t become an issue.
Drinks are placed in front of us and we place our orders. Serenity gives Amelia a full box of brand-new crayons and a thick coloring book of Disney princesses.
Amelia’s eyes go wide and I’m delighted when her manners make another appearance and she thanks Serenity profusely.
I watch Serenity walk back to the bar and get kissed by the bartender. Calloway. Her name belatedly sparks recognition. “Is Serenity one of the Calloways of Calloway Creek?”
“Yes and no. That’s her husband Cooper Calloway behind the bar.
His ancestors and my ancestors got in a fight over the town after the founder of the town, Lloyd McQuaid lost a bet to his friend Samuel Calloway and the town was renamed from McQuaid Plat to Calloway Creek.
My family, being more closely related to the McQuaids, have always sided with them.
Other prominent families in town, like the Montanas and Ashfords, side with the Calloways.
The feud goes back to the mid eighteen hundreds.
” He laughs. “The funny thing is, we’re all related to each other in one way or another.
” He points to the guy behind the bar. “Cooper is my fourth cousin.”
Wow. Small towns are so different. And kind of interesting in a morbidly curious kind of way.
Amelia’s eyes go wide when she opens the coloring book. “Mommy, look. Ariel!” She looks at Carter. “Mister, do you like princesses?”
“Who doesn’t like princesses?”
She situates the book between them and hands him a crayon. I’m amused when he starts coloring in a starfish.
He glances up at me as he colors. “So, you went to NYU?”
I touch my sweatshirt and nod. “For three years. Until…” I nod to my daughter and shrug.
“What did you study?”
“I was a science major. Emphasis on evolutionary science.”
His eyes narrow. “That’s rather specific.”
“Yeah, well, when you grow up in an ultra-conservative household and your dad is a pastor, you start to question things. And maybe I was suffering from a bit of teenage rebellion and did it just to piss off my father. Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking.
I should have done something more practical. Like business.”
“Your dad is a pastor?”
I laugh. Maybe a little too maniacally. “Oh, my dad isn’t just a pastor. No, no, no. My father is… Well, did you ever see the movie Footloose?”
“Sure. It’s an 80’s cult classic.” He cocks his head in realization. “Surely it’s not that bad.”
“It’s worse.”
“No dancing?”
“No dancing. No skirts above the knee or tops below the collarbone. No dating boys unless he had fully vetted them. He didn’t allow me to have a smartphone. He didn’t even want me to go to college. Instead, I was supposed to find a ‘nice man like him’ to settle down with.”
He’s silent for a beat, hesitating before he says quietly, “Are you”—he glances at Amelia and lowers his voice—“scared of him?”
“Scared of my dad? Lord, no. He’s a huge teddy bear. He’d literally give a stranger the shirt off his back. He feeds the homeless and organizes toy drives for needy children.”
I look out the window and see it’s snowing ever so lightly.
“I don’t blame him. His dad was a pastor.
It’s the only way he’s ever known. It’s just not in my blood to be like him.
I mean, I believe in God. And I like to think I’m a good, wholesome person—you know, beyond the occasional cursing and the whole unwed mother thing.
But I for sure got more from my mom than I did from him. ”
“What does your mom do?”
“She was a housewife.” I huff. “Of course. She died when I was fourteen.”
“My mom’s gone too.”
I don’t offer any apologies. We both know they aren’t needed.
I sip my coffee and watch Carter and Amelia color. It’s hard not to be sad over the fact that this man is the only man to ever color with her. Her own father never did, considering he’s never even met her. Cyrus wouldn’t have been caught dead doing such a thing. And my father… well…
The thought is interrupted when Amelia squeals at the tower of waffle fries put on the table.
“Tell the chef he’s gone above and beyond,” Carter says after a low, appreciative whistle.