Chapter 16 #2
His eyes drop to my lips. I feel the pull of it, the gravity between us.
“And I’m falling for you anyway,” he says, “against my better judgment, against all common sense. I’m falling for you.”
“I’m falling for you, too.”
We’re so close now, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face, close enough that all I’d have to do is lean forward just a fraction, and a car drives past, honking cheerfully, and we both jump apart like teenagers caught by their parents.
Wyatt drops his hand and lets out a frustrated sigh.
“Does it seem like the universe really doesn’t want us to kiss?”
“Apparently not.”
“Well,” he says as he starts the engine, “I guess the universe can wait because eventually—October, November, whenever you’re ready—I’m going to kiss you, Eleanor Whitfield. And it’s going to be worth the wait.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
* * *
He drives me back to The Rusty Spur as the sun sets over the mountains, painting them in shades of orange and pink and purple.
I’ve never seen such beautiful sunsets as I’ve seen here in these mountains.
There aren’t words to describe the peace I feel looking at them, like I’ve been lost my whole life and they’ve been calling me home.
Wyatt and I don’t talk much, but the silence is comfortable and easy, like we’ve just said everything we’ve needed to say for now.
When he pulls into the parking lot, he walks me to the side entrance, like always.
“Same time next week?” he asks.
“Actually, I have an idea. What if next Saturday we garden at your grandmother’s together, and then maybe I cook for you at my place?”
He looks pleased. “You’re going to cook for me?”
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. I can cook. I mean, I’m not at your grandmother’s level, but I’m competent.”
“What are you making?”
“Well, that’s a surprise.”
He grins. “I like surprises.”
“I know you do.”
We stand there for a moment, neither wanting to move, reluctant for this beautiful day to end.
“Thank you,” I say finally, “for today, for the waterfall, for sharing that with me.”
“Well, thank you for being there for my grandma and me. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I’m so thankful you and your pearls appeared in my life all those weeks ago.”
“I put the pearls away,” I say, laughing. “I promise to only wear them for special events.”
He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, a gesture that’s become ours, and then steps back before either of us can do something stupid, like close the distance between us.
“Good night, Eleanor.”
“Good night, Wyatt.”
I watch him walk to his truck, and he waves before climbing in. I wave back, and I go inside and climb the stairs to my apartment and sit on the sofa.
I think about waterfalls and the almost kiss, about Meredith’s ankle in the garden, about Wyatt’s hands, gentle on his grandmother’s ankle, the worry in his eyes. I think about what I said, I’m starting to think I might stay, and realize it’s the first time I’ve said it out loud.
And it really didn’t feel scary.
It felt like the truth.
My phone buzzes with a text.
Wyatt: Thank you again for today. You’re kind of amazing, you know that?
I smile and type back.
Me: Well, you’re kind of amazing yourself. See you next Saturday for gardening and a mystery dinner. Not that I won’t see you at work every day between then.
Wyatt: Can’t wait. And Eleanor?
Me: Yeah?
Wyatt: I meant what I said about falling for you.
I stare at the text for a long moment.
Me: I meant it too.
I set my phone down and look around my apartment, Mavis’s apartment, with its turquoise sofa and eclectic furniture and wall of photographs, and the life she built there, and the family she chose, and the home she made.
And for the first time, I can really picture myself doing the same thing.
Building a life here.
Choosing this family.
Making this home.
* * *
The following week establishes a new rhythm. Every morning before the bar opens, I drive over to Meredith’s house with something: breakfast from Dixie’s Diner, fresh flowers from the grocery store, a book I found in Mavis’s collection that I think she might like.
At first, she protests that I’m fussing over her, but by Wednesday she greets me at the door with coffee already brewing and a list of things she wants to show me in her garden.
The tomatoes are coming along, she says Thursday, hobbling beside me on her still-tender ankle as we walk the rows of her backyard garden.
“Another few weeks and they’ll be ready for pickin’.”
“How do you know when they’re ready?”
“Oh, you’ll feel it. You just give a little squeeze. And the color, well, it deepens. It gets richer.”
She points to a cluster of green tomatoes hanging on a vine. “See those? They’re close. Maybe ten days out.”
I crouch down to look at them, and something in my chest expands. These are nothing like the little sad tomatoes I grew as a child. These are robust and healthy and have clearly been loved.
“Mavis used to help me with my garden,” Meredith says. “Every spring, she’d come over, and we’d plan out the beds together. She had a good eye for it. She knew exactly what to plant next to what. Which plants liked each other and which didn’t.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, there’s a lot you don’t know about her yet. But you’re learning.” She sits down on a wooden bench at the edge of the garden. It looks handmade. “She talked about you, you know, before she died.”
“Yeah, everyone keeps telling me that.”
“Well, it’s true. She had a feeling about you. Said you were lost, but you didn’t know it yet. That you needed something to shake you loose from whatever was holding you back.”
I sit beside her on the bench and look out at the garden. Rows of vegetables, beds of flowers, fruit trees. A lifetime of growing things.
“I think she was right,” I admit. “I was lost. I just didn’t know how to name it.”
“And now?”
“Well, I’m probably still lost,” I say, laughing. “But at least I know it. I’m starting to find my way.”
Meredith pats my hand with her soft, weathered, wrinkled fingers. “That’s all any of us can do, dear. Find our way. One step at a time.”
* * *
Friday afternoon, Dolly corners me in the office.
“We need to talk,” she says, closing the door behind her.
“Yikes, that sounds ominous.”
“Well, it might be.” She sits in the armchair across from Mavis’s desk, which is my desk now, I suppose, and crosses her arms. “I’ve been hearing some things about Gary Allen.”
My stomach tightens into a knot. “What kind of things?”
“Well, he’s been busy since you turned him down. Talking to all kinds of people around town, making offers on other properties.”
“Which properties?”
“The building next to Grits and Grind, the old hardware store that’s been sitting empty for two years, and now there’s a rumor he’s sniffing around the church, too.”
“The church? Why would the developer want a church?”
“Well, not the church itself, but the land behind it. The big field where they do the fall festival every year. Apparently, it’s prime real estate for a hotel.”
I lean back in my chair. “So he’s trying to build around The Rusty Spur. If he can’t have this property, he’ll develop everything else and just squeeze us out.”
“That’s what it looks like.”
“And if he does that, if he turns Copper Creek into some kind of luxury resort, property values will skyrocket, and property taxes, too. Which means people who’ve been here for generations won’t be able to afford to stay.”
“Exactly.” Dolly’s expression looks grim. “You know what happened before. Different developer, but same playbook. I told you they bought up half of Main Street, raised rents, and drove out local businesses. It took years for them to recover, and some folks never did.”
“Why didn’t anybody stop them?”
“Because they came in with money and promises. People wanted to believe it would be different. By the time everybody realized what was happening, it was just too late.” She leans forward.
“I’m not saying Gary Allen is definitely going to do the same thing, but I’m saying we need to be careful. We need to pay attention.”
“Well, what can we do?”
“Right now, not much. He’s not breaking any laws. He’s just making offers on property and making plans. But if things start moving faster, well, we just need to be ready.”
“Ready how?”
“I don’t know yet, to be honest. But I do know one thing. You turning him down was the first step. You showed people it was possible to say no.”