Chapter 012 Lennie
Buddy backs the truck up, and I guide him in until the hitch lines up with the trailer. It’s a dance we’ve done a hundred times. We’ve got a system for the Copper Cove Hoedown, same as every year. I’ve selected six of my best pieces, wrapped tight in my special event packaging—soft bubble wrap layers that keep the frames from scratching and the glass from shattering. The easels are stacked and strapped down next to them. Buddy’s trailer is the big one, hauling the furniture, while my car is packed to the gills with the smaller props, business cards, and the cash box.
We’ve rented a corner booth, double the size of a standard one. It gives us an L-shape setup so we can work the crowd from two sides.
"Looks like a good turnout already," Buddy says, wiping his hands on his jeans as I finish weaving a string of white mini-lights through the tent rafters. He’s just come back from the management office with our permits. "Parking lot's half full and it ain't even nine."
"It always is. Copper Cove does great advertising. Folks drive in from three counties over."
"It’s the line dancing," he says, shooting me a wink. "Gets 'em every time."
"I’m sure the funnel cakes don't hurt."
The booth comes together fast. We hang the banners for the store behind the tables. My easels stand in a staggered row on the left, catching the morning light filtering through the tent flap. Buddy’s side is cluttered with heavier items—a refinished vanity, a couple of high-back chairs, and his pride and joy for this trip.
"The anniversary clock is a great find, Buddy. Really."
He beams, looking about ten years old. "Yeah, it sings. Listen." He fiddles with the back, and a tinny, melodic chime rings out. "Mechanisms are pristine. Found it in an estate sale over in Denton."
"Very nice."
"Lennie!"
I turn at the voice and smile. Mama and Daddy are weaving through the early shoppers, Daddy holding a white bakery box like it’s gold bullion.
"Howdy," Daddy says. He hands me the box and a travel cup of coffee. "Thought you’d be hungry. Didn't figure you had time for breakfast."
"Thanks, Daddy." I kiss his cheek, then Mama’s. She smells like hairspray and vanilla perfume.
"It’s a beautiful day," Mama says, fanning herself with a brochure. "Couldn't pick a nicer one. Not a cloud in the sky."
"Well, even if it rains, we paid extra for the covered tent," Buddy says, adjusting the price tag on a lamp. "We ain't getting soaked."
Daddy nods, pleased with the logistics. He turns to survey the crowd, and his expression shifts from casual interest to recognition. I follow his gaze. Levi is walking toward us, hat tipped low against the sun, thumb hooked in his belt loop.
My stomach does a little flip. I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear, hoping I don't look as flushed as I feel. Buddy sees him too. After the confrontation at the shop the other day, I’m bracing for a snarl, but Buddy just nods. That comforts me. He’s keeping the peace.
"Levi," Daddy says. "Nice to see you, son."
"Nice to see you too, sir." Levi stops at the edge of the booth, his eyes finding mine. A small, private smile touches his lips before he addresses my folks.
"Daddy, Mama, this is Levi Paxton," I say, the introduction feeling heavy with things unsaid. "He works at the Barnes Ranch. Where I’ve been taking lessons."
"Oh, the Barnes place? That’s right," Mama says, shaking Levi’s proffered hand. "Gosh, I’ve been meaning to come check out that new resort. Heard they’re doing it up real nice."
"Stop by any time, ma'am. I’ll give you a free riding lesson. Both of you."
Daddy chuckles. "I might take you up on that. Haven't been on a horse in twenty years."
I look around, half-expecting a shadow to fall over the conversation. "Where’s Shelly?" The question blurts out before I can stop it. I bite my tongue.
Levi shifts his weight, looking a little sheepish. "Oh, um, she’s showing her friend Laz around. He’s visiting." He coughs into his fist, glancing at the crowd. "This event has become somewhat of a meat market over the years, apparently. She wanted to show him the sights."
Everyone chuckles, though I feel a pinch of annoyance. Of course she’s here.
"Buddy," Levi says, pivoting smoothly. "I was just coming to see if you needed a hand bringing anything in. Heavy lifting?"
"No thanks, son. We’re set. Got a couple of the boys from management to help with the big stuff earlier."
"Good. Well, give me a holler if y’all need anything. I’ll just be over at the pasture display, helping with the pony rides and the demos."
"Nobody looking after the ranch while you boys are here?" Daddy asks.
"Just me, Nash, and Wyatt here today, sir. Everyone else is back at the ranch. Billy couldn't spare anyone else on account of a hay load coming in."
"I see. Well, nice meeting you, Levi."
"Same to you, sir. Y'all come by the ranch."
Levi turns to me one last time. He winks—quick, subtle—so nobody else catches it. "See ya, Lennie."
"Bye, Levi."
My heart hammers against my ribs as he walks away. My folks like him. I can tell by the way Daddy watches him go, nodding slightly. They’ve got good instincts. Usually.
Mama and Daddy don't stay long; they know loitering parents kill sales. "We'll let you get to it," Daddy says. "Good luck, sweetie."
The morning rushes by in a blur of haggling and pleasantries. I sell two smaller sketches and hand out a stack of business cards thick enough to choke a horse. By one o'clock, the adrenaline is wearing off and the hunger is setting in.
"Lennie, why don't y'all go grab yourself something at the food truck?" Buddy suggests, watching me lean against the table.
"Can I get you something?"
"Reckon I ate too many of them donuts your daddy brought. I'll eat later. Go on now, before the lunch rush gets crazy."
"Okay. Thanks, Buddy."
I grab my wallet and slip out of the tent. The air is thick with the smell of kettle corn and barbecue smoke. I snake my way through the throngs of people to the food truck alley. The lines are long, but I manage to snag a veggie burger and sweet potato fries from a truck that looks slightly less besieged than the others.
The picnic tables are packed—families shouting over crying kids, couples sharing nachos. I’m not in the mood for noise. I spot a grassy slope down by the little duck pond, away from the main thoroughfare. It’s quieter there.
I sit cross-legged on the grass, balancing my tray on my knees. The pond is scummy with algae, but the light hitting the water is nice. I chew a fry, my artist brain kicking in. I start framing a shot in my head—the juxtaposition of the muddy water and the pristine white feathers of a duck. I shift, turning to see if the angle is better from the other side, looking back toward the picnic area.
That’s when I see them.
Ten feet away, sitting on a concrete bench I hadn't noticed, is Shelly.
She’s with a man who can only be Laz. He’s wearing a purple denim jumpsuit that looks like it cost more than my car, and he’s gesturing wildly with a lit cigarette. They’re facing each other, completely oblivious to me sitting in the tall grass down the slope.
"Oh my God! Did you see that cowboy with the long hair back there?" Laz shrieks, his voice carrying clearly over the pond water.
Shelly laughs, a sharp, barking sound. "Jesus, Laz. Why don't you just hang a sandwich board on your body that says 'gay and available'? Although, with that outfit, there really is no need."
Laz preens, smoothing the purple denim. "And the designer rests humbly in his grave."
"Designer?"
"Oh, honey, you know I don't wear anything that doesn't have a label."
I freeze. I should move. I should get up and walk away. But then I see Levi.
He’s approaching them from the direction of the food trucks, two water bottles in his hands. He waves. I shrink down, pressing myself into the hillside. I’m hidden by a cluster of ornamental bushes, but I have a clear line of sight through the branches.
"Y'all want something?" Levi calls out as he gets closer.
Shelly looks up, her face transforming instantly from bored cynicism to a sweet, strained smile. "Just a coffee, babe."
Levi stops, frowning. He gestures vaguely to his own stomach. "Um, isn't that bad for... you know?"
Shelly stiffens. Laz’s eyes bulge. He starts to say something, but Shelly stomps on his foot. I see the impact, see Laz wince and clamp his mouth shut.
"No, I don't want anything then," Shelly says quickly. "I'll see you later."
Levi looks confused, standing there for a second like he’s trying to solve a puzzle with missing pieces. "Okay. Catch you later."
He turns and walks away, shoulders slumped.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Shelly removes her foot from Laz’s boot and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Shut up. I swear to God."
Laz pulls her hand away, looking scandalized. "Girl," he hisses, though it carries in the quiet air by the pond. "Are you pregnant?"
My breath hitches. I put my burger down on the grass, my appetite gone.
"No," Shelly says. Her voice is flat, matter-of-fact. "But I need you to play along, because it's part of my plan."
My stomach drops to my toes. I clap a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.
"What plan?" Laz asks, leaning in.
"Like the one I had with Greg. Only this time, we're not getting married for money. I'm going to rope Levi in with a fake baby."
"How the hell are you going to do that?"
"I've already done it," she says, sounding bored. "He thinks I'm pregnant. All his friends and family think I'm pregnant. I've just got to figure out a way to get his money before he figures out that I'm not."
"And how are you going to do that?"
Shelly picks at a chipped fingernail. "I'll get his phone. Grab it while he's not watching. Drain his bank account. I'll think of something. I always do. This whole going back to school thing has been a genius idea, Laz. I'm telling you. You ought to do the same thing. These trust fund kids? I've almost got one roped in good. Levi is just stupid enough to fall for it, too. Goddamn virgins. That was just a bonus." She chuckles, a dark, ugly sound.
I have to physically restrain myself from charging up the hill and tackling her. My hands are shaking so hard I’m digging clumps of grass out of the earth.
"So, when are you getting your new car?" Laz asks, lighting another cigarette.
"Next week."
"And this is from the money you got from selling your wedding rings?"
Shelly smirks. "That's right. And the alimony is starting up in a couple of months, and I got the house, so I'm set for this year and then some."
"You are a genius, Shelly. Sheer genius."
I feel bile rise in my throat. I can’t listen to another word. I shove my food wrappers into my pockets, abandoning the half-eaten burger for the ducks. I roll onto my knees and crawl backward until I’m sure they can’t see me, then I scramble up and practically run back toward the tents.
It’s disgusting. It’s evil. Levi—sweet, earnest Levi who wants to build a house with his own hands—is being played for a fool by a woman who calls him stupid for having a heart.
By the time I get back to the booth, I’m sweating cold.
"You didn't bring anything back?" Buddy asks, looking at my empty hands. "Did you eat?"
"I ate some," I lie. My voice sounds thin.
He looks up from a customer he’s ringing up. His eyes narrow. "You okay?"
"I just... I'm tired. I think the veggie burger didn't agree with me."
"Do you want to pack it up and go home? I'll stay and keep watch."
"No, it's fine. I stopped eating it the second my stomach acted up."
"I can go have a word with management," Buddy says, his protective streak flaring. "Let them know they're selling poison."
"No, no, that's okay, Buddy. Really. It could have just been one bad burger."
He studies me, not buying it, but the customer needs change, so he lets it drop.
The rest of the afternoon is torture. I make a sale—a big one, a landscape of the old mill—but I feel nothing. No thrill, no pride. Just a heavy, sick dread sitting in my gut. Every time I look at the entrance, I’m terrified Levi will walk in, and I’ll vomit right there on the grass.
Around four, Buddy stretches. "You mind if I go grab a bite now, Lennie? I’m starving."
"Sure. Go ahead."
Buddy leaves, and two minutes later, Levi walks in.
I try to look busy, rearranging a stack of prints, but he’s already there.
"What's going on?" he asks. No hello, no preamble. He’s looking at my face like he’s reading a map.
I force a smile. It feels like cracked plaster. "Nothing. Just a long day."
He stands there, thumbs hooked in his pockets, watching me. "Not buying it. I've seen you after a long day. That ain't what it looks like."
I open my mouth, but no words come out.
"Something's wrong, Lennie. I know it." He steps closer, lowering his voice. The tent is empty for a moment. "Tell me who hurt you."
The intensity in his eyes makes my chest ache. He’s ready to fight someone for me. And he doesn't even know the knife is in his own back.
"Nobody hurt me," I whisper. "And I can't talk about it right now."
"Do you need me to stick around?" His voice drops to a rumble. "I can stay."
"No. No, it's nothing like that."
He searches my eyes, desperate to fix whatever is broken. I can’t look at him. If I look at him, I’ll cry, and if I cry, I’ll tell him everything right here next to the singing clock.
"Fine," he says, frustrated. "I'll stop by at closing time and give you a hand loading up."
"You don't have to—"
"Lennie, it's killing me that something's bothering you. To see that look on your face... it's killing me."
A woman in a floral hat wanders into the tent, picking up a ceramic vase. "I have a question," she announces loudly.
Levi flinches, the moment shattering. He steps back, tipping his hat to the woman, then to me. He pastes a polite smile on his face, but his eyes are stormy. "See you later."
He walks out.
"Yes, ma'am?" I ask the woman, my voice trembling.
How do I tell the only man I’ve ever loved that he’s being conned without destroying him?
The sun is setting by the time we get the last of the gear into the trailer. Buddy locks the hitch and wipes his brow. Levi is there, silently hauling the heaviest boxes, not asking questions but hovering close.
"You sure Billy doesn't need you back at the ranch?" Buddy asks Levi as we finish.
"Naw, everyone's pitching in. They know you two haven't got anyone else to lend a hand."
We drive back to the store in a convoy. Levi follows us in his truck. We unload in the alley behind the shop, the security lights humming overhead. Levi paces while Buddy and I organize the inventory inside.
"I'm heading on home, Lennie," Buddy says, grabbing his keys. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"Yeah, see you. Goodnight, Buddy."
Buddy pauses at the door, looking between me and Levi. He senses the static in the air. He gives Levi a sharp look—a warning—then salutes and hops into his truck.
I lock the store and arm the system. When I turn around, Levi is standing by his truck, chewing on the pad of his thumb. He looks at me, waiting.
"Why don't you follow me to my place, Levi?" I say. My voice is steady, which is a miracle. "That way we can do this in private."
He nods once. "I'll follow you."
The drive to my house takes ten minutes. Ten minutes to rehearse a speech I don't want to give. Ten minutes to pray I’m doing the right thing.
We pull into my driveway. My little house looks cozy in the twilight, porch light glowing. I unlock the door and disarm the house alarm.
"Your place is sweet," Levi says, stepping inside. He looks around, taking in the dark maple floors and the cream furniture. It’s tidy, quiet.
"Thanks. It's small, but I like it. Big houses do nothing for me."
"Same here. Quaint is key."
"Exactly."
He walks down the hallway, pausing at the gallery wall of black and white photos—Mama and Daddy young, their wedding, me as a baby. "This is really sweet. Never seen these before."
"Took some digging to find the negatives."
I walk into the living room, my heart thudding so hard I feel it in my throat. "Do you want some sweet tea?" I ask, purely out of habit.
"No, I'm fine, thanks."
Thank God. I don't think my hands are steady enough to pour.
Levi stops pacing and turns to me. He looks tired, worried. "Why don't you tell me what's going on, Lennie?"
"Please sit."
He sits on the edge of the cream sofa, elbows on his knees. I pull a dining chair over so I’m facing him. I can’t do this from across the room. I reach out and take his hands. His palms are rough, warm. Calloused from work.
"Levi, I need to tell you something very difficult."
The muscles in his jaw bunch. He goes still. "Okay."
"Please don't think that I'm nuts for doing this, but... I did a little digging when we first met. When you told me you had a girlfriend." I take a breath. "I crept on your social media and found a picture of Shelly."
His brow furrows. "Okay."
"So, I know what she looks like. Even though I've never met her."
He nods slowly, confused.
"Today, at the Hoedown... I went over to the food trucks and sat by the pond to eat. I saw Shelly there. She was with a friend. A guy named Laz."
"Uh huh."
"I was eavesdropping," I admit. "I was right there in the bushes when you came by and offered to get her a drink."
He blinks. "Okay."
"Levi." I squeeze his hands. "When you gestured to your belly and walked away... I saw her tell her friend that she's not pregnant."
His face goes slack. He pulls his hands away from mine, sitting back against the cushions.
"It's all part of a scheme," I say, the words rushing out now. "She said it’s a plan to get at your money. She told him she’s done this before to a guy named Greg—that she married him for money and sold the rings for a car."
Levi stares at me. He doesn't blink. He doesn't breathe.
"She said she’s going to try to get your phone. To drain your account."
Levi raises a fist and presses it against his lips, staring at the wall. His eyes are wide, unseeing. It’s like his brain has just short-circuited. He looks like a man who just watched his house burn down.
"I'm so sorry, Levi."
He doesn't look at me. He stares at the baseboard, his chest rising and falling in shallow, rapid breaths. The silence stretches, thick and suffocating. I want him to yell. I want him to call me a liar. But he just sits there, turning to stone.
Finally, he exhales—a sharp, ragged sound. He stands up abruptly.
"I've got to go."
His voice is hollow.
"Are you okay to drive?" I stand up too, reaching for him, but he’s already moving toward the door. "I can give you a ride."
He stops with his hand on the doorknob. He looks at me for a split second, and the pain in his eyes knocks the wind out of me. "I'm fine. I just... I've got to go. I'll see you."
He opens the door and walks out into the night.
He’s not shouting. He’s not throwing things. He’s not spitting anger. He’s just gone.
I stand in the open doorway, watching his taillights fade down the street, wondering if I just saved him or broke him for good.