Chapter Eight
“Life in a small town has its highs and lows, but I tell you one thing, it is never boring.” - Miss Know-It-All’s Gossip Column.
Since Gemma was unable to run her bookstore while on bed rest, Gracie had offered to do it for her, and by Wednesday, she hated to admit how much she was enjoying the slower pace of Chloe’s Book Nook. Gemma had named the little book store after the calico cat she’d had for eighteen years and the décor was country cute with cat related signs on the wall.
The best part about the shop was even when it was busy, it wasn’t insane.
Tanya had needed the extra hours at The Local Bean Coffee Shop anyway and been happy to cover for her. Plus, the back room of the bookstore was the perfect place to lay Pip down for her naps, and Gracie had installed a baby cam she’d bought at Another Go Round, the children’s store down the street. And when she wasn’t playing with her toys, Pip liked having Gracie read kids’ books to her.
Gracie was hanging Christmas lights in the window when her cell phone rang.
She climbed down from the step stool and pressed the green phone icon.
“Hello?”
“Gracie, it’s Viola Merryweather.”
Gracie’s stomach plummeted. “Hey, Viola. What did you find out?”
“Well, I’ve got lots of bad news and some good news. I found out Pip’s name is Jocelyn Ryder, and she is just over two-years-old. She was born at St. Luke’s in Twin Falls, and her mom was Meghan Ryder of Buhl.”
“Was?” Gracie asked.
“Unfortunately, her mother died of a meth overdose three weeks ago. They did pick up Rita, the woman who Meghan supposedly gave Jocelyn to.”
Gracie gasped in disbelief. “She gave her kid away?”
Viola’s voice sounded completely disgusted. “In exchange for her next fix. Some good news is Rita is being booked on endangering the welfare of a child, child neglect, and several drug-related charges.”
Gracie didn’t want to admit how blood thirsty she was, but she briefly pictured herself in a quiet room alone with Rita for five minutes. “What does this mean for Pip, I mean, Jocelyn?”
“Well, we’ve located her maternal grandmother and great-grandmother, who both live in Filer. There was no father named on the birth certificate, so I’m just waiting for one of them to call me back. Just gotta be patient at this point.”
Gracie picked up the monitor and stared at the screen. Pip was sleeping on her back, her little mouth open. She had filled out more in the few days Gracie had been taking care of her, but still had a way to go.
“What if her grandmother doesn’t want her?”
“Then she’ll officially go into the system available for adoption.”
“And what’s the average wait for a child in foster care?” Gracie asked.
Viola was silent for several ticks. “Two years, but sometimes it is much shorter.”
“Or longer.”
Gracie heard Viola sigh. “That’s true, but that’s just the way the system works. I promise to call you when I hear more, but in the meantime, I’ve set Jocelyn up with an appointment with a child psychologist in Twin Falls on Friday at one in the afternoon. If you can’t take her, I can come by—”
“I’ll make sure she’s there.”
“Good. I’ll text you her information.”
Gracie hung up the phone, her heart aching. Little Jocelyn had been through so much, and no one had cared. If she hadn’t come by with that dinner, what would have happened to her?
Guess sometimes there is a reason for everything.
* * *
Eric was in the storeroom of Buck’s, placing bottles on the shelves, when his phone beeped with a notification.
He had a new e-mail from Neal.
He’d talked to his agent on Monday, who’d told him when he had something, Eric would know about it. He clicked on the email.
Eric-
Got time for a chat? I have good news, my friend.
Best,
Neal
Eric tapped off a response and waited. The minutes ticked away slowly until finally, the cell rang.
When he answered, he tried to keep his voice calm, even though his skin was humming with excitement. “Hey, Neal.”
“Eric! I got great news! How do you feel about writing for one of the biggest publishers in New York?”
Eric’s heart stopped beating. “Are you shitting me?”
“No, my friend, I am not. Random House wants you.”
“Seriously? Have you seen the contract?” Eric asked.
“Yes, and if you agree, they want to fly you out for their special New Year’s Eve party. You’ll get to meet the editor you’ll be working with, the marketing team. It will be great.”
Eric was still having a hard time believing this. “Is it a good deal?”
“Of course! I wouldn’t be calling you if it wasn’t a fantastic offer. I’ll email over the deets with my suggested changes, and you can let me know what you think.”
“Great. Thanks, Neal. I owe you.”
“Nope, just doing my job! We’ll talk soon.”
Eric slipped the phone back into his pocket and the energy built up from his feet, making his legs and arms shake.
“Yes! Fuck, yeah! Whoo!”
He was still doing a victory dance when his little brother, Grant, pulled open the storeroom door.
“What the hell are you doing in here?”
Eric was too happy to hide it and picked his brother up in a bone-crushing hug. “I’m celebrating, little brother. I got a feeling today is going to be fucking amazing.”
* * *
Later that night, Gracie sat across from Trent Ford, one of her ex-boyfriends, and after twenty minutes, she’d remembered why she’d broken up with Trent.
He was a narcissistic asshat.
Gracie had hired Gemma’s babysitter, Jenny Andrews, Mrs. Andrews’s youngest daughter, to come over and sit with Jocelyn. She’d had Jenny get there before she put her down, so if she did wake up, the little girl wouldn’t be scared.
Gracie still had a hard time thinking of Pip as Jocelyn, but she’d have to get used to it. Maybe she’d call her Josie.
If I have her that long.
And she’d done all that so she could meet Trent at Jensen’s Diner for a coffee and a slice of pie.
It definitely wasn’t worth the ten bucks an hour she was paying Jenny.
“And that’s how I turned a profit on a piece-of-crap Chevy nobody wanted,” Trent said, finishing whatever money-making story he’d been droning on about.
Gracie smiled politely, studying Trent’s short blond hair and sea-foam-green eyes. She didn’t remember his eyes being that color. Was he wearing colored contacts?
Ugh, no. Nope, she was done. Why had she thought recycling her old boyfriends would be a good idea?
Grabbing her purse on the bench next to her, she rummaged for her wallet. “Well, Trent, it’s been fun catching up, but it’s getting late.”
He screwed up his face in confusion and tilted his head like a damn Chihuahua. “Getting late? We’ve hardly sat down. Besides, I thought we’d head over to Buck’s, get a little dirty dancing going on. I remember how good you used to move.”
Double yuck with a scoop of slimeball on top.
“I just think it’s better if we call it a night,” she said, pulling some bills out to set on the table.
Trent reached across the surface and circled her wrist, startling her. “Better for who? Not for me. I turned down going out with my boys ’cause I thought this was a sure thing.”
Gracie’s gaze narrowed. “A sure thing?”
“You want to play innocent, fine, but it ain’t like you don’t flit about this town like a butterfly looking for pollen.”
Did he seriously just say that to me?
Yanking her hand back and breaking his hold, she bared her teeth at him in a savage smile. “It’s the twenty-first century, Trent. Nowadays, women don’t have to stay home churning butter until some kind man marries them and takes their special flower.”
“All I’m saying is, when you call a guy you used to screw and ask if he wants to grab a late-night cup of joe, there are certain assumptions.”
God, she wanted to throw her coffee in his smug, stupid face, but she didn’t need an assault charge. “Well, you know what they say about assumptions. So, why don’t you take yours and shove them right up your ass, because despite what you may have thought a cup of coffee meant, I don’t sleep with every man I go out with.”
He sneered at her. “That’s not what I’ve heard.”
Oh hell no. Screw the coffee/ I’m going to break his nose with my fist.
“Listen, pal, I get that you’re pissed, but you don’t have to get nasty. I was trying to be nice and let you down easy, but if you want me to get honest, I’m leaving because you are still a self-absorbed douche bag and I wouldn’t do you if it would stop the apocalypse.”
His face turned bright red. “Oh, honesty? Well, since we’re being so honest, when we dated I overlooked your horrid taste in movies, your obnoxious tendency to sing like a braying donkey and your smart ass mouth because you were a fantastic lay—”
“I think it’s about time you shove off, asshole,” a growling voice said.
Gracie glanced up and was surprised she hadn’t noticed Eric come in. Right now, he stood next to Trent’s side, his large arms crossed over his red flannel chest.
Damn, she’d never been so glad to see Eric in her life.
Trent’s color drained from his face, and the muscle in his jaw tightened. “Fine.”
Trent got up from the table, and when he didn’t pay for his pie or his coffee, Gracie just laughed. Paying five bucks was better than spending the night in Rock Canyon lock up for kicking the shit out of Trent.
Finally, meeting Eric’s gaze again, she smiled. “I appreciate the backup. You probably saved his pretty face. And I have no idea what he’s talking about…” She took a bite of her pie, and grinned. “I sound like a freaking angel.”
His mouth twitched as though he was suppressing a laugh. “I think you’re exaggerating a bit, Gracie Lou.”
“If you agree with him, then why did you defend me?” she asked.
“Oh, I wasn’t defending your singing voice. I was objecting to his tone. Only I’m allowed to yell at you.”
Gracie crossed her arms over her chest. “Actually, you aren’t.”
He actually chucked her under the chin as if she were a child. “Sure I am, baby. You know you like it when we fight.” He leaned over, his beard tickling her ear. “It’s really good foreplay.”