Chapter 5
SADIE
I glance down at the large calendar I keep on my desk.
Tuesday.
Pay the water bill.
Print out worksheets for youth group.
DRINK WATER.
I reach over and grab my bubblegum-pink Stanley cup that Emma bought me for Christmas and take three large gulps.
The phone rings, echoing through my small office filled with metal filing cabinets and too many wires because my dad refuses to update the systems to “that newfangled technology that relies too much on something in the sky.”
I clear my throat, answering, “Summers Accounting, Sadie speaking. How may I help you?”
A dry voice answers. “Sadie, it’s Mrs. Thomas. I got my tax return, and I’m confused about a few things.”
“I’d be happy to help, Mrs. Thomas. What seems to be confusing you?” I ask.
“Well, I don’t get why my refund is smaller this year when I didn’t do anything different. I didn’t buy anything extravagant. Unless you count a new mattress, but that was on sale.”
I smile even though she can’t see me. “The mattress isn’t the issue. Let me pull everything up and walk through it with you.”
As I click through her file, I already know the answer. The answer is almost always the same—a pension adjustment. A deduction that quietly expired. Life inching forward while you’re too busy trying to keep up with it.
“I see it here,” I say gently. “Your husband’s benefits shifted categories last year, which changed the taxable amount. It’s frustrating, but it’s nothing you did wrong.”
“Well, that feels unfair,” she says.
“I agree,” I reply before I can stop myself, then quickly add, “but we can plan ahead for next year so there aren’t any surprises.”
She hums thoughtfully. “Okay. You always explain things so well, Sadie. Your daddy has taught you well.”
My throat tightens. “Thank you, Mrs. Thomas.”
“Now, what do I need to do to prepare for next year?” she asks.
Before I can answer, the bell on the front door clangs sharply against the glass.
“Hello?” comes a very familiar, deep voice.
I freeze.
Why is this man so persistent about talking to me?
“I’m just going to put you on a brief hold, Mrs. Thomas,” I say quietly. “I want to double-check one thing.”
“Oh, take your time, dear.”
I set the receiver down more slowly than necessary, trying to make my movements small and quiet. I stare at the computer screen without actually seeing it, columns of responsibility and expectation stacked neatly on top of each other, turning into a blur.
“Sadie?” Milo calls, his voice closer now.
I close my eyes for half a second and pinch the bridge of my nose. This is not somewhere I want Milo to see me—here in the office I didn’t want to call mine.
I pick the phone back up. “Mrs. Thomas? Thank you for holding.”
“Everything okay?” she asks.
“Of course,” I say automatically. “It’ll just take me an hour or so this afternoon—maybe two—to create a perfect plan so you don’t have to deal with a tax surprise next year.”
A shadow falls across the doorway of my office.
I don’t look up.
“Oh, that would be great, dear,” she replies. “Do you think you can print it out and bring it to me? I really hate trying to figure out how to print things off my email.”
I can feel Milo watching me, his eyes warm and steady.
“I’ll bring it by on my way home today,” I reply. “No problem at all.”
“Thanks, Sadie,” she says.
“See you soon, Mrs. Thomas,” I say with a smile before hanging up.
I pick up my pen and add Take Mrs. Thomas her new budget plan to my list, trying my best to ignore the fact that Milo Carter is leaning against my office doorframe with a wide grin on his face—the kind that used to make my stomach flutter with nerves and excitement.
I swallow down the dusty remnants of butterflies trying to take flight again.
Milo shifts his weight against the doorframe, eyes flicking from the screen to my face. “Mrs. Thomas as in Rhonda Thomas? Wasn’t she the one who always said we were so cute together?” he asks playfully.
“People can be wrong,” I say before leaning back in my chair. “Why are you here, Milo? I thought I told you that it was best if we weren’t seen together.”
He takes two strides to the chair across from me, easily sinking into it. “Well, the problem is, I need a new accountant, and you’re the only one in Dusty Hollow.”
I raise my brows. “Well, isn’t that convenient for you?”
“It is,” he agrees with what feels like a smug smile.
“You know, there’s this thing called the internet. You can hire an accountant from practically anywhere.”
He cocks his head to the side as if he’s considering. “I prefer to keep my business local.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, well, I don’t even think you need an accountant. You were the one who was always helping me with my math homework.”
His blue eyes spark. “Do you need a tutor now? I’d be more than happy to help you.”
“Like you helped with the puppies,” I say softly, tilting my head to the side.
He shrugs. “I just wanted that little vampire pup to stop sucking your blood.”
When the animal shelter kept calling and telling me puppies had homes throughout the weekend, I knew it wasn’t just my Facebook post. It didn’t take long to find out that Milo Carter had been true to his word. He helped.
“But back to accounting.” He pauses to pull out his phone. “You have great reviews on Yelp. There’s a comment here that says Sadie Summers knows what she’s doing. She can crunch my numbers anytime.”
My cheeks flush and my shoulders tighten. “That isn’t a real review.”
He turns his screen to show me. “It’s right here.”
“Oh, I know it’s on there,” I say quickly, “but that was Sophie playing a prank on me. She used the username Form1040AndChill.”
He grins, then visibly reins it in. “I promise I won’t hold Sophie’s sense of humor against you.”
“Thank you, but I’m not taking new clients,” I answer as I shift uncomfortably, picking up my pen and clicking it repeatedly.
He shakes his head. “I don’t believe that for a second, Sadie. You were never one to say no.”
And that’s true for the most part. I have said no a few times in my life—such as saying no to senior skip day, no to sneaking out even when a certain cute blue-eyed boy pouted and promised he’d have me back before sunrise, and no to caffeine after six.
Turns out the older you get, the more coffee does affect you.
“No,” I say proudly, crossing my arms.
His grin widens as he leans back in the chair, his hands behind his head. “How’d that feel?”
I feel the tug of a smile wanting to pull at my lips, but I pick up my water bottle and take another sip instead.
The bell clangs against the front door glass again. I hear the familiar squeaks of wheels and grunts from my dad. I instinctively jump from my chair and leave Milo behind in my office.
I quickly walk through the tiny hallway with beige walls and family photos to the small front lobby, where we have a couch no one ever sits on with magazines on a coffee table that date back several years.
“Dad, I’ve told you to call me so I can help you in.”
He runs a hand through his dark hair flecked silver and laughs. “I can open the door, Sadie. I’ve been a certified wheelchair driver for almost seven years now.”
“We really should install one of those automatic doors. It’d make things easier,” I argue.
“I’m not spending money on something that doesn’t need fixed,” he argues.
“Mr. Summers.” Milo’s voice booms from behind me before he steps around to shake my dad’s hand. My dad pulls him down for a hug instead.
I watch as Milo gently wraps his arms around my dad, as if he’s afraid he’s going to break him and doesn’t know what to do with this version of my dad he’s never seen. When he pulls back, my dad’s green eyes are a little brighter than before.
“Milo Carter,” Dad muses. “I heard you were back in town. It’s good to see you, son. Coaching at the high school?”
Milo nods. “I’m excited to be back on the field again.”
“Dusty Hollow could use you. It’s been years since we’ve brought home a state title.”
Milo chuckles. “Well, I’ll see what I can do.”
“Here to see Sadie?”
Milo looks at me with a wicked grin. “I need a new accountant.”
“We could use the work. You know how small-town business is, always happy to have a new customer,” Dad says before glancing at me. “You’ll take good care of him . . . won’t you, Sadie?”
I don’t look at Milo. Instead, I give my dad one of my best smiles. “Of course.”
The words land the way they always do—heavy, final, and not entirely mine.
“Thanks, kiddo,” he says warmly. “I wouldn’t know what to do without this girl. She’s the angel of accounting.”
I nod as he rolls away, his wheels squeaking more loudly than usual. I make a mental note to pick up WD-40.
“Your dad seems like he’s doing great,” Milo says softly, bumping my elbow.
“Mm-hmm.”
Seconds pass between us, mirroring the years.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
I stare at my penny loafers, breathing in and out slowly through my nose. The office feels smaller than it did ten minutes ago.
“I’m going for coffee,” I say.
I don’t usually leave in the middle of the day. There’s always a reason not to.
“I’ll buy.”
“No.”
This time, the word doesn’t feel polite or humorous.
It feels necessary.
I walk away, the bell clanging against the glass as Dusty Hollow’s heat pulls me in.
Milo doesn’t follow.