Chapter 8 The Gossip Queen
The Gossip Queen
Grayson
Kate's been gone three hours.
Not that I'm counting.
I'm not waiting for her. I'm not concerned. I'm just aware of the time. That's all.
I've cleaned the kitchen twice. Restocked the firewood. Fixed the loose hinge on the pantry door that's been irritating me for weeks. Checked the generator. Cleaned my tools.
All completely normal things that have nothing to do with the fact that she left upset and hasn't come back.
The power came back hours ago. Lights flickered, fridge hummed to life, everything returned to normal.
Except Kate still isn't back.
I stand at the kitchen window with my coffee, staring down the dirt road.
She's fine. She's a grown woman who can take care of herself.
She walked to town alone in a place she doesn't know. On roads that can be rough even for locals after a storm like last night's.
I set my mug down harder than necessary.
The memory of her face this morning won't leave me alone. The frustration. The embarrassment. The hurt.
I didn't mean to sound dismissive when I told her about the meeting. I was trying to help. Trying to fix the problem before it spiraled.
But somehow I made it worse.
Story of my life.
I grab my keys and wallet.
I need supplies. And I need to clear my head. Sitting here alone with thoughts I don't want to examine is driving me insane.
That's the only reason I'm going into town.
Not because I'm looking for her.
—
I park my truck on Main Street and immediately regret this decision.
Maple Glen on a Saturday morning is alive. People walking dogs. Families window shopping. Neighbors stopped on every corner mid-conversation.
This is exactly why I avoid coming in.
I keep my head down and move quickly toward the general store.
"Grayson!"
I close my eyes. Turn around.
Mr. Henderson waves from across the street, his border collie dragging him forward. "Haven't seen you in weeks. How's the cabin?"
"Fine," I call back. "Still standing."
"Come by for dinner sometime! Martha keeps asking about you!"
I wave and keep moving.
Ten feet later, Mrs. Chen stops me outside the post office.
"I have a package for you. Just let me—"
"I'll grab it later. Thanks, Mrs. Chen."
I'm almost to the general store when the smell stops me.
Fresh bread. Cinnamon. Sugar.
Sweet Crumbs.
My stomach growls. I haven't eaten since coffee this morning. And Mrs. Everly's sourdough is, genuinely, the best bread I've ever had.
I push open the door. The bell chimes.
"Well, well, well!" Mrs. Everly appears from behind the counter like she was waiting. "Grayson Hart, as I live and breathe. Two trips to town in one week? Should I alert the media?"
I grunt and walk to the display case. "Just need some bread."
"The usual sourdough?"
"Yeah. Thanks."
She wraps a fresh loaf in brown paper. But when I reach for it, she doesn't let go.
Her eyes narrow. Gleam with something I don't like at all.
"So," she says, drawing it out. "I met someone very interesting this morning."
My stomach drops. "Is that right."
"Mm-hmm. Young woman. Pretty. Brunette. Hazel eyes. Said her name was Kate."
I keep my expression neutral. "Okay."
"She mentioned she's staying at a cabin just outside town." Mrs. Everly leans forward, lowering her voice. "Your cabin, specifically."
"She's working on a project for Evervolt," I say. "Maxwell arranged temporary housing."
"Oh, I'm sure he did." Her smile turns wicked. "And how convenient that the only available housing happened to be yours."
"It's a work arrangement."
"Is it?"
"Yes."
"Then why did she turn the most adorable shade of pink when I asked about you?"
There's no good response to that. I don't try.
Mrs. Everly releases the bread and crosses her arms, looking far too pleased with herself.
"Grayson Hart, I have known you since you were a surly young man who first came through here four years ago and bought this cabin to hide from the world.
In all that time, you have never once had anyone stay with you… Not that I know off."
"She's not staying with me. She's staying in the cabin. There's a difference."
"Semantics, darling!"
"Maxwell sent her. I didn't invite anyone."
"And yet you let her stay."
"I didn't have a choice."
Mrs. Everly's eyes soften just slightly. "Choice. Oh, honey. You always have a choice. You could've said no. You could've sent her packing. But you didn't."
I pull out my wallet. "How much for the bread?"
"It's about time," she continues, ignoring me entirely. "You've been up in that cabin alone for too long. A girl like Kate is exactly what you need."
"Mrs. Everly—"
"The way she talked about you. So flustered." She sighs happily. "And you came into town today. Looking for her, I'd bet."
"I'm here for supplies."
"Mm-hmm. Supplies…"
A customer walks in—an older man I recognize from the hardware store. He nods at me, then turns to Mrs. Everly.
"Morning, Dorothy. Heard you met Grayson's girlfriend this morning."
I close my eyes. "She's not my girlfriend."
Mrs. Everly beams. "Isn't she lovely? Those eyes!"
"Seems like a keeper," the man agrees, as if I'm not standing right there. "About time someone settled him down."
"That's what I said!"
"We're not together," I say flatly. "Temporary work arrangement. Nothing more."
Mrs. Everly smiles serenely. "Of course, dear. Whatever you say."
I put twenty dollars on the counter. "Keep the change."
"You know," she calls as I head for the door, "denial is a river in Egypt!"
Several customers laugh.
I push out the door, jaw clenched.
This is exactly why I avoid town.
—
I sit in my truck, gripping the bread loaf, and let the silence settle.
The rumor is already alive. I could see it in Mrs. Everly's eyes. In the way that customer assumed Kate was my girlfriend without a second thought.
By tonight, the whole town will know.
Damage control is pointless in a place like this. Denying it only makes people more convinced. The more I protest, the more suspicious it looks.
I've lived in small towns before. Once the gossip train leaves the station, you can't stop it. You wait for it to run out of steam.
My phone buzzes.
A Facebook notification. Tagged in a post by Dorothy Everly.
I don't open it. I don't need to.
I set the phone face-down on the seat and stare at the windshield.
This is a problem—but not just for me. Kate's name is now tied to mine. Whether she knows it or not, the town has written a story that neither of us agreed to. And small-town stories take on a life of their own.
I think about her face this morning. The frustration. The hurt. The way she walked out the door without looking back.
How is she going to react when she finds out the whole town thinks we're together?
She'll want to correct it. Explain it's a mistake. Set the record straight.
Which will only make it spread faster.
Or...
I grip the steering wheel.
Or, I let it run.
Let the town believe what they want. If people think Kate and I are together, they'll leave us alone. Stop trying to set me up with their daughters and nieces. For Kate, it might actually help—small towns respect relationships. They'll be more welcoming. More protective.
It's not honest. But it's not a complete lie either.
We are sharing a space. We are spending time together. The rumor has some grounding.
It's just... exaggerated.
The question is whether I tell Kate and let her decide.
Or, whether I say nothing and let it play out.
I pull onto the dirt road back toward the cabin, still turning it over.
She's still in town. Probably getting the full Mrs. Everly treatment from anyone who crossed her path after I left.
By the time she gets back, she's going to have questions.
And I'm going to have to decide what to say.
I park the truck and sit for a moment, staring at the cabin.
Too quiet. Too still.
I grab the bread and go inside.
I open the Facebook notification.
The post shows a photo of Sweet Crumbs Bakery. The caption reads:
What a wonderful morning! Met the lovely Kate Morgan, who's visiting our town and staying with our dear Grayson Hart. It's been too long since Grayson had someone special in his life. Wishing them both all the happiness! ?? #MapleGlen #YoungLove #AboutTime
Forty-three likes. Twenty-seven comments.
They make such a cute couple.
I knew Grayson would find someone eventually.
Wedding bells soon? ??
I close the app and set my phone on the counter.
This is officially out of control.
And Kate doesn't even know yet.
I walk to the window and look out at the road.
Waiting.
The town has written our story.
Whether we like it or not, we're now the main characters.
The only question left is: do we fight it?
Or do we play along?