3. Bex
THREE
Bex
“ S o,” the man standing behind the counter starts, pushing his glasses up his nose as he squints my way. “You’re saying that you want someone to come out to your place and trim back a hedge?”
Only in a small town can you run out to do some errands and slip into a conversation at a hardware store that may help you find a landscaper. Well, fingers crossed.
I nod. “That’s exactly it.”
He gives me a knowing smile. “I may know someone. Where do you live?”
“On the old Main Road, near the intersection of Highway 50.”
“Not a lot of houses out that way.” The man’s mouth twitches. “Are you on the front of the old Porter farm?”
“The old Porter farm?” What does he mean? “I know it’s a Porter who lives there now.”
“That’s Austin and Levi Porter’s grandparents’ old farm,” the man acknowledges as he finishes ringing me up. “Mr. Porter passed away a few months back and left the place to Mary, Austin’s and Levi’s mother. You must be in the house that is at the front. I know it was for sale not long ago.”
“Yep, that’s me.” And only in small towns can you have a chat turn into a who’s who in the area, with the local storekeeper informing you of your property’s history. This guy is better than Google.
“If it’s the hedge I’m thinking of, the one that gives the farmhouse at the back some privacy from your property, then no.”
My head tilts to an odd angle on its own. “No?”
“No,” he repeats himself, looking at me woefully. “I don’t know anyone who will touch that with a ten-foot pole.”
Yet things seemed to be going so well. “Why?”
“That boxwood hedge has been around for as long as I can remember. The family must have planted it there years and years ago for it to be as high as it is. I think it was six feet tall the last time I saw it?” he muses, scratching his chin.
“And that is exactly why I need to trim it back.” I pull out my wallet to pay for the painting supplies in my cart.
The older gentleman shakes his head. “Ain’t no one gonna come and take that job on, I’m sorry to say.”
“You’re kidding.” I’m truly baffled. “Why?”
“That hedge was like the Holy Grail to Mrs. Porter when she was alive. She was the only one who trimmed it back. After she passed, Mr. Porter took it over, but I’ve got no clue who is taking care of it now. Must be Austin?” He shakes his head again. “That’s the other hurdle. Between you and me, we’ve all seen how unhappy Austin’s been since that injury. With the legend of that hedge being so precious––coupled with the fact that the owner of it is now, let’s say, tough to deal with––I think finding someone to take care of it may be a mission.”
I never thought I’d have to go outside of the local area for something like this.
“So no one will do it?”
“You can try, but I’ll be surprised if you can get anyone on board to help.” He looks at the cash register. “That’s seventy-nine dollars and twenty-four cents, please.”
I swipe my credit card and ponder the fact that the one thing standing between me and the view of my dreams is an ancient boxwood hedge that I’ll probably never get anyone to help me do anything with.
“Oh, don’t listen to him,” someone in line behind me says, handing me a business card. “I’m a gardener and would be happy to come by and take a look.”
I glance down and see the name on the card. “Thanks, Eric,” I say as I slip the card into the back pocket of my jeans. “I’ll give you a call very soon.”
“Good luck to both of you,” the man behind the counter snorts. “As the saying goes, ‘May you go with God.’”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes and keep my attention on my new friend, Eric. “Seriously. Thank you.”
He smiles, his eyes bouncing to the man, who is still chuckling at his own joke behind the counter, then back to mine. “I’m around, just let me know when you’re ready.”
I walk out of the Sweetkiss Creek hardware store a little more educated than when I’d gone in. Georgie knew that I was living on the old Porter farm, she had to, and didn’t say anything. Why?
Ambling across the small parking lot, I toss my purchases into my car before grabbing my grocery list and jogging over to the store. Time to stock up the fridge.
I’d barely made it down the first aisle when a familiar voice calls my name. When I spin around, I’m not even one bit surprised, although, I am grateful for the serendipity to see Georgie again.
“This is awesome,” she says as she gently nudges my grocery cart with hers. “I love that you live here now.”
“I guess in a small town, you can’t hide much, huh?”
“Nope,” she says with a wink as she grabs a package of cookies and tosses them into her cart.
“I’m glad I ran into you, I’ve got a bone to pick,” I say, putting my cart in front of hers so she can’t get away quickly. “Why didn’t you tell me about Austin living on the farm—that it’s his grandparents’ home?”
“Oh, man. I know. I should have.” Georgie grimaces. “I was afraid you’d find out he was there full time and then see what a jerk he’s become and you wouldn’t want to move in. We didn’t even tell Spencer about his connection—plus, to add salt to the wound, Austin tried to buy your house.”
“He did?” My voice hitches with surprise.
She nods her head slowly. “And he wasn’t happy when Spencer bought it.”
“Headlines, Georgie. These are headlines. Things you lead with. I would have liked to have known what I was getting in my next-door neighbor, you know.”
“I know, but look, in the funny way things work out, I was telling Levi about seeing you. He says hi, by the way.” She grins, interrupting herself. “I love how interested he is in what I do and have to say.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I say with sarcastic humor, rolling my eyes playfully. “I get it, you found Prince Charming.”
“I did, and it turns out the good prince may have work for you.”
If she was trying to pivot and change the subject, she did a good job.
“Really?” I start to move my grocery cart out of her path. “That’s awesome.”
“The thing is, as he put it, it’s got to be the right person to do the job.” She turns serious, reaching out and grasping my forearms. “Which I fully believe you are, but it could be a bit of a claustrophobic job, if you take it.”
“Claustrophobic. Would I be in a small tunnel or a box?”
She leans on the handle of her grocery cart. “The brothers are partners. Levi does a lot of work, but the deal he made with Austin was that he, Austin, would take care of running the day-to-day business of their rental properties here in Sweetkiss Creek when Levi was out on the road coaching.”
It’s not often you get a family that has two incredible sports players in its family tree, but to have brothers who both played in the NFL is saying something. Levi retired about a year ago, but only kind of; these days, he travels with his old team, the Carolina Cardinals, and coaches the offensive line. I know from chats with Georgie that he loves doing it, they are based in Charlotte after all, but it still takes him away from home more than he planned, even if he’s got more flexibility these days.
“I take it Austin is not holding up his end of the deal when Levi’s gone?”
“Nope. And therein lies the rub.” Georgie leans against her grocery cart and shakes her head. “Look, I wouldn’t be presenting this to you, but the fact that you live right next to him seems to be a sign.”
“Yeah. ‘No access granted’ is what that sign says,” I mumble.
Georgie ignores me. “I know from talking to Spencer that you’ve worked for some real challenging personalities, but you’ve always been able to handle them well. I think his exact words were that you do it with grace.” She flashes a megawatt smile, the kind that probably gets her anything she wants without even trying. “Which made me wonder if Austin can be one more challenge to add to your list?”
“You make me sound like the Pied Piper of personal assistants,” I say. “Why haven’t you guys hired anyone sooner?”
She shrugs. “We’ve talked about it, as a family, but it hasn’t been until recently that Levi realized how many balls are being dropped. He’s home for two days right now, and I’ll barely see him because he’s out at an apartment organizing new carpet for a new tenant, and then he has a walk-through for someone who’s moving out. After that, he’s got another appointment, but now we’re in the territory where I lose track, so all going well, I’ll see him for dinner tonight before he’s out the door tomorrow morning for a flight.”
I can hear the stress in her voice, never mind the fact she hardly took a breath during her monologue. “That sounds hectic.”
“It is.” She looks at me. “Is it convenient that you live next door to Austin now? Yes. Am I trying to get you to take this job because it’ll help my home life calm down some? Yes, but I swear I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t know how awesome you are at what you do.”
“Now you’re just trying to woo me.”
“Is it working?”
“A little.”
“Will it help if I tell you that you won’t always have to deal with Austin, at least not in person if that’s what you prefer? I’m sure we can set up an email check-in system or something that works for both of you.”
On one hand, it sounds like it could work. But on the other, it sounds like a lot of, well, work.
“Let me think about it, okay?”
“Okay.” She hugs me. “I won’t keep you hostage talking about this any longer, but remember if you need anything, just ask.”
I start to roll my cart away, but then stop and call out to Georgie as she’s about to turn down the aisle.
“Hey, Georgie,” I say. “Do you have any idea why a chicken would deliver my mail?”
Who would have thought that running errands today would give me quite the education? From the history of where I live to a mailman who’s also a performer for kids’ parties. Who knew?
The whole experience had given me lots to think about on my drive back home. I no sooner pull into the driveway when movement from the back lawn pulls my attention. I stay put behind the wheel of my car, watching the German shepherd as it slinks stealthily toward my back porch and climbs the steps.
The dog is big but also looks skinny, making me wonder whether or not it’s been fed recently. My animal lover instincts are kicking in, begging me to rush to its side, but let’s be real—this is a strange dog. Like, stranger danger level ten. It’s not just any dog, but a German shepherd, the kind they use in police forces to take down bad guys. So, pardon me if I’m not leaping out of my car to give it a warm welcome.
I eye the distance between me and the front door, mentally calculating if I can make it inside without becoming a human chew toy. The song “Galvanize” by the Chemical Brothers begins to play in the background of my mind. The dog is watching me, too, which is only slightly terrifying. Maybe if I time it just right, I can sprint to the house and slam the door before Cujo decides to pounce.
Taking a deep breath, I make my move, flinging the car door open and launching myself out like a sprinter at the Olympics. My heart is pounding, and I’m halfway to the house when I hear the sound of paws thudding behind me. I quicken my pace, pumping my legs faster and praying I don’t trip over my own feet.
But of course, I do. Just as I reach the porch steps, I feel something warm and furry against my legs, and the next thing I know, I’m face-planting into the dirt. My thoughts are racing: This is it. This is how I die.
But instead of teeth sinking into my skin, I feel...wetness. On my cheek. I crack one eye open to find the dog standing over me, its big brown eyes filled with pure, unadulterated joy as it licks my face like I’m a popsicle on a hot day.
“Okay, okay.” Sitting up slowly, laughing, I try to push the exuberant, loving pup away. “I get it. You’re not going to eat me.” Scratching the dog’s neck, I notice there’s no collar, which makes my stomach both sink in sadness and also do a dance of happiness. Sad, because I was hoping to reunite this sweetie with its owner, but happy because…well, I like dogs, so if we get to hang out a little longer that’s fine by me.
I grab my groceries from the car and head inside, certain as I approach my door that this animal will probably take off or, perhaps, curl up on the porch where she was before. Either way, I’m not expecting it to prance inside in front of me, leading the way in, as I swing the door open.
Laughing, I follow my new friend inside and close the door behind me. “Come on in, why don’t ya?”
I’m no stranger to having a pet, and I miss my dog. My dad had a lab that used to also double as my dog, as in I’d steal it when I could so I had a running buddy, but when I moved I promised to leave him so that my dad had company.
I second-guess my judgment for having let this dog in, following him as he wanders room to room, inspecting my things. When we enter the living room, he spots a pile of blankets I’d tossed in a corner in an unpacking flurry earlier today. I watch as the animal turns in a circle, over and over again, landing in a heap in the center of the fabric. Within a matter of seconds, a soft snore rises from its body and its eyes are closed tight.
Shaking my head, I make my way back to the kitchen to put my groceries away. I start digging around for something I can use as water and food bowls for the animal. I’m not a horrible hostess; I want to make sure my four legged visitor gets taken care of if he, or she, needs room service.
A few hours later, after I’ve grilled a couple of steaks for us—filet mignon because why not?—I glance out the window and see it’s getting dark. My plan had been to hop in the car and drive to a few neighboring houses—no, not Austin’s…friendly neighbors—and ask about the dog. With night falling I realize I need to go now.
Swiping my keys, I shake them in the air and call out to the strange animal. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s go find your family.”
When I approach his makeshift bed, I notice the dog is shaking. Trembling excessively is probably the better way to describe it. Kneeling down, I put my hand on its back and pet its fur slowly. “What’s going on, buddy?”
No sooner are the words out of my mouth than a loud crack sounds in the air around us followed closely by a clap of thunder. There’s a pitter-patter of raindrops drumming repetitively on the roof as a thunderstorm rolls in around us.
“Fine. You win, we’ll wait til morning.” I can’t prove it, but I swear that dog stopped shaking as soon as I acquiesced.
Yawning, sleep begins to overtake me, leading me to make my way upstairs to head to bed. I do my nightly routine, washing my face and doing the girl things I like to do, and when I walk into my bedroom, I find my unexpected guest on the floor, next to my side of the bed, already asleep.
“Goodnight, stinker,” I whisper as I climb over my new friend and turn out the light. As I get settled under the covers, I glance outside my window, realizing for the first time that I have a full view from here across the field to Austin’s house.
It looks lonely over there. It looks cold and dark, like a haunted house that you’d see in a cartoon. There’s one lone light that burns bright in an upstairs window, and as I watch, it’s suddenly extinguished. It’s as if someone was there and knew I was watching.
The dog’s snoring gets louder beside me as I lay my head on my pillow. The vision of Austin’s light dampening on replay in my head as the sound of raindrops falling overhead lulls me to sleep.