Chapter 9 #2
People complained if they had to walk a whole two blocks.
“How would you know when I wake up?”
“Cally scratches at the door when you leave your cabin at four-thirty.”
“I’ve never seen her outside.”
The spot he chose was directly across the street from Greta’s, which was quiet right now.
“What do you do at four-thirty in the morning?”
“I go for a run.”
“A run? Why?”
“Exercise. Conditioning.”
“Chop wood if you want exercise!”
“I do that, too.”
“How far do you run?”
“In this snow? Two miles.”
“Hold on. Snow? You don’t run on the roads?”
“Trails have about eighteen inches on them. Compact snow. I run on it.”
“Did you buy snowshoes?”
“I don’t wear snowshoes. I wear winter boots.”
“That’s not running! That’s–”
“A phenomenal workout.”
Dennis put the truck in park, turned off the engine, grabbed his hat and gloves, and climbed out, Kell following suit.
They barely had to look both ways to cross. Luview was quiet this time of day.
“Punishment is more like it.” Kell made a derisive sound in the back of his throat.
“It’s just conditioning.”
“You do know you left the Army, right? No need to abuse yourself.”
“It’s not abuse. I enjoy it.”
“The pleasure centers of your brain need to be rewired.”
“Gonna take a long time. Twenty-plus years doing what I’ve done gets in deep. Plus, I’ve heard it’s good for my mitochondria,” he added as a joke.
Kell’s glance didn’t go unnoticed. Dennis knew his family all wanted to press him for details about his various missions, but he literally, legally, couldn’t give them details.
It had been hard for them to suppress all their questions about his location over the years, and for Deanna, who loved gossip and collected individual details about people like an archivist, it meant perpetual frustration.
He’d suspected part of the reason she was so happy he was moving back home was that she’d always know where he was.
With hearts cut into the shingling and trim, Love You Bakery, affectionately known simply as Greta’s to the locals, was the stuff of brochures.
Painted in the classic town colors, the three-story Victorian house held the café and bakery on the first and second floors, with a rental apartment on the third.
Approaching the front door, Dennis could smell maple and chocolate, coffee and bread. Mouth watering, he couldn’t help but grin.
Kell wanted a croissant. Dennis knew they’d leave with enough carbs to last them a week.
“No! The warrior is truly home!” Greta Mitteracht called out as she shuffled from behind the register to plant a huge kiss on Dennis’s cheek. Almost as round as she was tall, Greta was in her eighties now, but still had the fierce gaze of a woman who knew things.
“I don’t know about the warrior part. I’m just here to climb trees and chop wood.”
“And kick ass,” Kell muttered under his breath, giving Dennis an eye roll.
“Deanna must be in heaven!” Greta’s German accent was still present, even after decades of living in Maine. “All of her children, right there with her in that strange commune you all created.”
“It’s not a commune,” Kell insisted. “We just decided to pool our money and live at the camp together.”
“That is the definition of a commune.”
“No, it’s–”
“Are you here to argue with the lady or get some baked goods?” Dennis interrupted, shooting Kell a look. “Mel’s waiting for us.”
“Mel?” Greta asked as she walked behind the bakery display. “All those years rescuing people in the world, and now animals, too?”
“Rescuing people?”
Greta waved vaguely.
“I don’t know what you did in the Army. So mysterious.”
“I want a Morning Glory muffin and a maple scone. How’s that for clearing up any mystery?” Looking at the display case, he groaned internally. Every muffin, cookie, and brownie was in the shape of a heart.
Every damn one.
Reaching into his back pocket, he nodded to Kell. “Order yours. I’ll get it.”
“Thanks! I’ll take two croissants, Greta. Almond and chocolate.” He turned to Dennis. “A man could get used to starting work days like this.”
“It’s a one-time deal. Don’t get used to it.”
“One time?” Greta protested. “Come in every day! And you get a ten percent discount.”
“We do?” Kell’s eyebrows shot up.
“Not you. Only him.”
“Why?” Kell’s voice went up with amusement.
“He is a veteran.” Greta bagged their order and handed the white bag with the big red heart on it to Kell as Dennis slipped his credit card into the tiny reader on the counter.
When he’d left home, Greta’s still had the old metal cash register at the hostess station, the ding!
of machinery signaling that the sale had been made.
Now he just inserted a piece of plastic with a chip in it, added a tip, and bam! Transaction complete.
More change in his hometown, even when so much was the same.
“You come in more often, Dennis. I’ll save you a spot for Sunday brunch.”
Kell’s jaw dropped open.
“You never save tables on Sundays!”
“I can do whatever I want, Kellan Luview! This is my shop, and if I want to save a table for Dennis, I will!”
“I had no idea you played favorites like that, Greta.” Kell winked at her. “How can I get the VIP treatment?”
Greta’s jaw tightened, though Dennis could tell from her eyes that it was all in good fun.
“You are on my naughty list.”
“Me? What? Why?”
“Rachel.”
“What about Rachel?”
“She wants to move the electric trolley stop right in front of the shop.”
“What’s wrong with that? More foot traffic.”
“And more ding! ding! ding! during my naptime!” Greta harumphed.
“I’ll put in a good word for you.” Kell winked again.
“I have tried already! She said that Love You Yoga needs quiet more than we do.”
Low-grade panic began to form in Kell’s eyes as he realized he was in a pickle. Dennis decided to rescue him.
Plus, the scent of his pastries made his stomach growl.
“Gotta go, Greta.” He shook the bag. “Thanks! And I’ll definitely take you up on the Sunday offer.”
As he grabbed Kell’s arm, his brother pivoted fast, grateful for the save.
“Thanks,” Kell said with a loud sigh as they crossed the street. “That was about to get brutal.”
“Rachel seems like a lightning rod in town.”
“You don’t know the half of it. She thinks she’s helping the town to grow and thrive. Townies think she’s intruding on the way things are and should be. I get stuck in the middle a lot.”
“You realize you are a townie.”
“Sure. But I’m an enlightened townie who likes progress. There aren’t many of us.”
Back in the truck, Kell opened the bag and handed Dennis his muffin with a napkin wrapped around it. Dennis pulled out of the parking spot and made a right turn to get back on track for Mel Chassi’s place.
“How’s it feel, being home?” Kell asked as he worked on his croissant.
“Fine.”
“No, Dennis. How does it feel?”
“Why are you so focused on feelings?”
“I’m curious. I went to D.C. and lived there for a year. It felt super weird at first. You and I are the only ones in the family who went out into the world and lived somewhere else. Mom, Dad, Luke, and Colleen have never lived anywhere but here.”
“Luke went to college.”
“Yeah. In Maine.”
“He spent a semester in Italy.”
“Why don’t you tell me about your feelings about being gone first?”
“I loved every damn minute of my time in D.C.,” Kell said in a low, rumbling voice that made Dennis blink hard in surprise.
“But you came back.”
“I did. The very end was awful. People can be really unkind. Scheming. Conniving.”
“They are here, too, in the love-liest place on Earth, kid,” Dennis grumbled. “Just in a different way.”
“I know how to handle Nadine Khouri or Nancy Bilbee or Dane Morgenstern. Didn’t know how to handle co-workers who stabbed me in the back while smiling at me.”
“I heard it was your heart that got stabbed, and you ran back home.”
“I don’t need to rehash the past,” Kell replied, voice tight, turning to his coffee to break the tension.
“Maybe my heart’s feeling a little bruised right now.” The words came out before Dennis realized he was going to say them.
If his stupid mouth was going to get him into trouble, stuffing the rest of his muffin in there was self-defense.
“What did she do?”
Dennis just chewed.
Kell waited him out.
Finally:
“It’s what she’s not doing that’s killing me. Ignoring my texts.”
“Ouch. Were you seeing her long?”
“No.” With zero desire to elaborate, Dennis made the turn onto the dirt road that took them up to Mel’s place, steering around a huge pothole in the middle of the road.
Loads of people in their area had long driveways leading to remote homes in the woods, but as they drove on and on, Dennis began to notice just how remote her place was.
“You know,” he said with a long sigh, scratching his beard along the right side of his face, “when Rachel and I were having trouble, it ripped my heart out. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus, the whole bit.
I was so sure I was right, suspecting her of being cruel to me in D.C.
” Kell let out a chuckle. “And now we’re living together, engaged, and happy. ”
“You’re also about to become Portia Starman’s son-in-law. Have fun with that.”
“We don’t pick our in-laws.”
“Actually, we do.”
The road opened up to a big, wide field with electric fencing on the right. Still no sign of a barn or house anywhere, and they’d driven at least a mile.
“Driveway’s up ahead, about a half mile,” Kell said, pointing.
“This was just the road?”
“Sorta. Mel’s is the only house on it.”
“Gotcha.” The fact that Dennis had never been to this animal sanctuary, yet Kell knew exactly where he was going, was becoming part of daily life. Unaccustomed to being the least informed person in any given group, he really disliked his ignorance.
Only time would improve the situation.
“And you’re right. We do pick our in-laws, don’t we? I guess I’m stuck with Portia and Stan for life.”
“Rachel gets Mom and Dad. Quite a trade.”
That just made Kell’s eyes go out of focus and a bit glassy as he stared straight ahead.
Hah. Mission accomplished.