Chapter 7
Itry to spend the rest of the week thinking about anything other than that fateful town forum. For the most part, I fail.
How did your little chat with Jake go? Claire had been waiting eagerly to ask the second we were both home. I didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth, or maybe I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself yet.
The cute guy that saved me from a terrible fate had purchased the vacant brewery with the intention of crushing all the local rental homes in town. Some doomed fate I must have earned if this is what it brought me.
Instead, I had told her it was interrupted before anything eventful could happen. She had been disappointed but hopeful that I’d see him again.
Little did she know, it would be only days later.
At first, I don’t notice him coming down the sidewalk toward me.
I stayed later than usual at the shelter tonight, and my walk has been spent watching only the few feet in front of me with each step for home.
But then he drifts under the hazy glow of the streetlamp, his face lighting up as our eyes lock.
“Lucy, hi,” he greets me with a tinge of hope lifting his voice.
“Jake,” I reply with a nod. I can’t decide if I’m disappointed that I let my dad talk me out of walking to my CD player at night or not.
“What are you doing out?”
“Heading home from the shelter.”
He tilts his head to the side. “You worked late, are you hungry?”
“Yes, for the food I have waiting at home.”
If I’m being honest, a burger from Gin Mill sounds amazing right now, and the blue and white sign is calling my name from only steps away. But down the street, Jake’s newest property looms over me like a brutal reminder.
“You know, I’ve gone to Jitters about three times a day since the forum.” He shoves his hands in the pockets of his corduroy jacket and flashes me an earnest look with the softest gaze. “I was hoping to see you.”
“Jake—”
“Can I at least walk you home? It’s late and unsafe to be walking around in the dark alone.”
“Not here. Ellicottville doesn’t have giant hotels that bring in loads of potentially dangerous strangers.”
He doesn’t say anything, still watching me with a steady gaze. I’m not sure why, but I almost wish he would argue with me more.
With a sigh, I relent. “If you don’t mind turning around to walk the other wa—”
That damn smile returns. “I don’t mind.”
I think the beauty October brings to Ellicottville, with its rich hues and festive events, often causes people to overlook September.
But I always look forward to it. September has a quiet balance—it is the true embodiment of the in between.
While it might not yet be fall, it’s in these days I can fill my lungs and start to feel recharged once more.
But the month is quickly coming to an end, the hint of change humming in the air. As if possibility is waiting on the other side.
Even in the darkness of night, it’s there.
“So,” I say as we start up Monroe, “I guess I know why you were hanging around the vacant brewery last week.”
He presses his hands firmer into his jacket pockets and nods. “For the record, I’m not the pave-over-paradise type.”
“Then what type are you?”
“I’m just the son who saw this project as a way to get out of the office for a while.”
We cross the street and start onto Martha, my porch lights glowing just blocks away. Home is close, and I can’t decide if I want more time with him or not.
“Do you do this often?”
“Acquisitions?” he asks.
“I was going to say hostile takeovers.”
He chuckles lightly, again undeterred by my little jab. “I don’t. My father typically sends his senior acquisitions manager.”
“Well, that’s a big title.”
“For a big ego. Trust me, you don’t want Doyle to be the one here.”
I can’t help but crack a smile at that. “What do you normally do at the company then?”
“I’m vice president of community relations.”
“That’s an even bigger title.”
He snorts, but doesn’t try to defend it. Interesting.
“What does it mean to be vice president of community relations?” We are only a block from my house now, and he’s managed to keep me talking.
“It means that I get to negotiate partnerships once we’re developed and be the public face of the company.”
Objectively, it is a nice face. They should want to plaster it on everything.
We reach my home, and I hesitate at the end of my front walkway.
“This is me. But if you have time to finish this… chat—”
He smiles. “All the time in the world.”
“I could spare a few minutes to sit out on the porch,” I explain, climbing my front steps and stopping at the top. He stays at the base of them, lifting only one boot up on the bottom tread. “Just because I love the feeling of being at the brink of fall.”
“Understood.”
Walking over to sit in one of the rocking chairs, I motion for him to join me. He doesn’t hesitate to do so.
When he settles in at my side, he says, “I’m guessing you’re a fan of the autumn season?”
“I am,” I confirm.
“What’s your favorite thing about it?”
I bite my lip, considering his question. “It just feels… comforting. That probably sounds crazy, a season making me feel that way.”
“Not at all,” he says seriously.
We don’t speak for a beat. The gentle shuffle of the rocking chairs against the wooden porch and the sound of a truck in the distance are the only noises permeating the silence.
Normally, it takes far more than these few encounters to be so at ease with another person. But not with Jake, apparently.
With him, I’m not restless to hurry inside. To get home and close the door behind me and be alone once more.
“I hear autumn in New York City is magical,” I say. “What’s it like?”
“You know some about our company then? To know where the home office is?”
I shrug.
He smiles.
“I can’t say I ever really paid too close attention to it. But thinking back, you can feel the city slow down once autumn hits. As much as a place like that can.”
“Do you think you’ll miss it while you’re taking over our town?”
“I think I might miss having pizza delivered at one in the morning if I feel like it,” he says with an easy laugh. “What about you, have you always been a small-town girl?”
“Ellicottville born and raised, I even stayed here while commuting to campus in college.”
“Something related to animals?”
“Giving up on the matchmaker theory then?”
He drums his fingers on the arm of his chair, and I can’t help noticing how large his hands are. “I walked you to the animal shelter last week, so now I’m thinking you matched her with a four-legged companion.”
The corners of my mouth twitch on their own accord. “You’d be correct. But I actually went to art school.”
His eyebrows raise. “Art school? What’s your trade?”
“I studied painting,” I murmur, looking back down at my boots.
When he speaks again, his voice is softer. “I feel like there’s a story there.”
“There might be,” I say noncommittally, rising once more. “But I think that’s our limit tonight.”
“Tonight—then I earned the chance to see you again?”
“Not purposefully,” I agree.
He rises as well, following me back over to where the stairs lead to my front door. I take a step towards the door. He takes a step down to the sidewalk. Even on this lower level, he’s still taller than me.
“Goodnight, Lucy,” he says with a hopeful grin. Then he turns and starts back down the walkway into the night.