Chapter 12
TWELVE
Alpine’s population was three thousand and two hundred.
We could find almost everything we needed on Main Street.
There weren’t any major big-box stores to get lost in.
Or impressive sources of entertainment to attract impressive sets of tourists.
The theater was home to a grand total of three screens.
Walking through the grocery store took less than five minutes.
Traffic was light during the week, so riding horses on the road was common and often preferred. We passed a few riders, all of them tipping their hats or giving us nods of acknowledgment. Rae and I stopped at Rainwood’s Grocers, tying Frog and Kat to the post outside before going in.
“How adorable,” Rae said as we walked up the porch steps. “Your grocery store’s a cottage.”
“The couple who own it live on the second floor,” I said. My gut still ached from what I’d said about her flirting. This was why I found it easier to keep to myself. This type of social error would haunt me for days.
“Small towns, man.” Rae did a three-sixty, taking in the carved flowers on the wooden railing and hanging pots, each filled with vines and flowers.
I held the door open for her. A gust of fresh herbs and flowers greeted us.
Rae stepped inside, releasing a low squeal when she saw a stack of squirrel plushies on display at the front.
She stood in Alpine’s tiny grocer with her expensive boots, pearl earrings, blue button-down, and pressed gray slacks.
Rae was all clean, chic edges. She was perfectly manicured details dropped in the middle of a brown, rustic oasis.
She smiled as she took in the store, and I smiled along with her, appreciating the quaintness of everything. All five brown shelves in the middle of the room were fully stocked. Two deep freezers sat on the back wall. There was a section for seeds and gardening equipment in the corner.
“Hey!” someone yelled from the back room. A boy popped up from behind the counter, one hand clutching a backpack, the other hugging a box of candy to his chest. His blond curls were in disarray as he bolted toward us. Toward the door.
“What I tell you about stealing, Liam.” Maggie Rainwood appeared from the back room, her light brown skin red with fury and her hand dripping suds on the floral tiled floor.
Rae caught the back of the kid’s collar with ease, holding him in place. She stumbled a bit, favoring her good ankle. The boy’s feet kept running, a comical attempt to still gain ground.
“I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it,” he chanted while trying to stuff the candy box into his backpack.
“Oh, kid,” Rae sighed as if she were truly lamenting his reality, still holding on to his shirt. “You’ve literally been caught red-handed.”
“James!” Maggie called her husband. She snatched a towel from behind the counter, scrubbing her hands dry as she came closer. James bounded down the stairs, his footsteps heavy. The side of his dark brown cheek showed an imprint from where he’d been sleeping.
“I’m so sorry,” Maggie apologized to Rae. “This isn’t how we typically welcome guests. James—!”
She stopped short when she realized her groggy husband was at her elbow. He stood almost two heads taller than her, so she had to crane her neck to send up a glare.
“Ma’am,” he teased, smiling back.
I’d never said more than a handful of words to the Rainwoods. But they were the only people I’d gotten to know, which didn’t say much considering it was difficult not to know your only grocer.
The Rainwoods were a couple in their 40s.
Artists who’d lived in New York for decades before settling down to sell seeds to farmers and paint seasonal murals on the side of city hall.
I liked that they matched the energy of whatever customer came in.
When I was quiet, they said little passed a polite greeting.
When Wilson came in with his baked goods and his need to gossip, they pulled up their hand-carved stools and cups of steaming coffee.
“Your protégé.” Maggie gestured to Liam, who now stared up at Rae as if he were in the front row at some pop star’s farewell concert. He’d stopped squirming, cheeks dotted red.
“Hi,” he said to Rae. “Who are you? Did you just move here?”
Rae laughed. “Hello, I’m Rae. And I’m here for work. How about yourself?”
“Liam.” He offered her a shy, crooked smile. “And I live here with my grandma. But I take care of myself most of the time. I’m in the third grade.”
I bit down on my inner cheek, trying not to laugh.
“Alright.” James picked up Liam and tossed him over his shoulder like it was nothing. “Enough of that.”
“I can walk.” Liam pounded on James’s back.
“Not fast enough.” James carted the kid out of the store, ready to give him a talking-to on the porch.
“He’s sweet,” Maggie promised quickly. “Just sometimes likes to cause trouble for attention. Things get a little boring around here. But not anymore! You’re new. And you’re friends with our Octavia?”
She said “our Octavia” as if we’d shared more than passing pleasantries. As if I were as interwoven into this community as she was with her fundraisers, bake sales, and plays in the park. The label’s a kindness I hadn’t earned. An offer I didn’t deserve.
“Friend…” Rae looked at me. For approval? Encouragement? Amusement? All the above?
I stared back at her blankly, trying to think of how to explain her presence to Maggie in the most non-intrusive way possible.
Rae and her team would have to explain their presence to everyone eventually.
And then, we’d have every single household in Alpine wondering just how ridiculous those Daniel siblings were at Elmwood Ranch.
Or worse, what if they believed the whole ghost thing?
I mean, my previous seasonal ranch hands got the hell out of town after their accidents.
If people believed ghosts were on the ranch, would that kill my chances to open my doors?
Haunting had to be high on the list of bad publicity.
“Friend,” I said quickly, claiming the dead air for my own. “Old friend from…old times.”
“Very old times. We’re like this.” Rae crossed her fingers. “Literally get sick being apart.”
“Okay,” I warned in a lower voice.
“Literally,” she caked on, unable to help herself.
“How sweet. I love lifelong friendships.” Maggie pressed her hand to her chest, admiring us as if we’d set a precedent for all friends henceforth.
“And you’re just in time for the holiday season celebrations!
We’re getting started early this year since the pumpkin patches are perfect already. Our first event’s coming up.”
“She won’t be around—” I tried.
“Celebrations?” Rae cut in, allowing herself to be pulled into Maggie’s bubble of excitement.
“Our annual Harvest Dance is at the Midtown Bar.” Maggie snatched a flyer from the large stack on the counter.
There was always some dance, bake sale, or field day happening in town.
Every time I rode in, someone was on the cusp of planning a parade, planting trees, or singing around a campfire in the town square.
It could be cute, but most times it was so sweet it gave me a headache.
“There’s a costume contest. The theme’s ‘best cowfolk in town.’” Maggie wiggled her brows. This time, her gaze was on me.
I frowned, not sure why she’d thought that part would interest me. I wore the same brand of worn jeans and cotton long sleeve every day.
“The prize’s one thousand dollars?” Rae’s eyes went big as she also looked at me.
That’s why Maggie thought it’d interest me.
It was no secret that opening the ranch was taking longer than I expected. And I’d put back a couple of items on the shelves in this store more than enough times to indicate I wasn’t exactly rolling in cash.
But dressing up and being perceived for a check? I didn’t think so.
“Interesting,” I said in my best but I’m not interested tone.
“How does one sign up?” Rae asked.
“Aren’t we going to be busy with…” Ridding me of nightmares and figuring out how to retrieve her buried shoe from the yard. “Work?”
When Maggie’s forehead creased, I added, “Rae’s here for work. She’s a freelancer and needed a change of scenery.”
“I have a good work-life balance, though,” Rae promised with a wink. “Don’t you worry, bestie. I can work and have my cake, too.”
“Bestie?” I asked under my breath when we finally walked out of the grocery store after nearly an hour of you must be the first to try my new homemade hand lotion, and I can place an order for anything you need and have it here by next Friday.
Rae kept triggering tangents as if we had all the time in the world to mill around. I should be more annoyed, but I couldn’t help but struggle to fend off a smile.
Rae’s excitement curved around her, creating a glowing halo. It was hard to be mad when she kept looking my way for input and reactions. She bragged about the homemade jam I’d made. And how great I was with the horses.
“You started it.” Rae grinned, holding a reusable bag of groceries in one hand and costume contest tickets in her other. She waved them back and forth as if they were the thousand-dollar prize already.
“I don’t know anyone over the age of twenty-five who uses the word ‘bestie,’” I mused as we got to the horses. Frog and Kat lifted their heads, more than ready to leave the boring water trough and dead city street.
“Your grouchy old woman act will never faze me. I never bought into the whole ‘thirty is old’ agenda.” Rae watched me put the groceries into the pouch hanging from Frog and then attempted to do the same on Kat.
When she struggled with unclasping the buckles, I moved to help. Her hand caught underneath mine, soft knuckles painting static-charged lines across my hard palm. I flexed my fingers.
“All good?” She copied my worried brow with little effort. She did that a lot. Mirrored.
“Yeah, I’m just thinking about how you’re going to get your costume together in such a short amount of time.”
“I’m raiding your closet, of course.” She offered a one-shoulder shrug as if it were a given.