Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114011 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
“I understand.”
I don’t, because I’m not Kirk, but oh, to be loved as much as Charlotte is.
“I haven’t made up my mind. This is a lot of information to process in a day. And I worry about you guys finding new jobs and all of that, but . . .” His voice cracks. “But I want to be home, feeding her soup and telling her how beautiful she looks.”
Tears fill my eyes again. “As you should.”
“You’ll be the first to know when I make a decision. But I need to get home and figure out what we need to do now.”
“Absolutely.”
“Just do me a favor and start testing the waters for a new job, okay?”
I nod.
I’m numb, unable to grasp the enormity of what he’s just said.
Charlotte is dying. Oh, God. Please help them. Please help my boss, my friend, and his sweet wife through this.
Tears wet my cheeks.
This is too much to process. My world has been turned on its axis.
How do I handle things at Skoolie’s, provide support for Kirk’s family, take care of Ethan, handle baseball practice, and look for a job and maybe a house? Because even though I know Kirk would never kick me out, what if he walks away from it all? What if he sells to someone who doesn’t give a shit?
My lips tremble as I cry quietly, my heartbreak for Kirk bleeding into fear for myself and my son too.
My brain switches to the men in the shop, who will also lose their jobs. How will their families survive? There aren’t a lot of jobs around here. It’s not like they can just switch careers and make the kind of money that Kirk pays them. And that money gets filtered around town—to Fletcher’s, to the gas station, to the bait shop, and to Bud’s Sporting Goods.
I hiccup a breath, not sure if I can still breathe.
The weight of the situation slams onto my shoulders like a boulder rolling down a mountain. I think I might collapse.
If I don’t run this place perfectly, if I don’t make this work, we’ll all suffer.
“I’m going to get going,” he says, then picks up a briefcase off the floor and heads to the door. “I’ve already let Burt know that you’re in charge while I’m gone. If I can’t be reached, decisions are made by you. And if you’re not sure what to do . . . do your best.”
“I won’t let you down. I promise,” I say, hoping I can deliver on that. “Please, just go take care of Charlotte and tell her I love her. I’ll organize a meal train, so please don’t worry about food. And if there’s anything else—call me. Okay?”
He stops in the doorway. “Thank you, Palmer. For everything.”
“Of course,” I say as he walks out.
The door slams shut behind him. I fall back into my chair, and when I’m absolutely certain he’s gone, when I see his car pull down the driveway, I sob.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
COLE
I sip my coffee and look down at the list I’ve been working on all morning. There are lines and arrows coming off each bullet point in every direction. The staggering amount of work that needs to be done to pull off a relocation is insane.
Decide what to do with my house in California
Get cars here
Have convo with Scott
Find a place to live here
Talk to Miigi
I relax into the chair at Mom’s kitchen table, thankful that she and Dad went to Fletcher’s for breakfast. The quiet and solitude are just what I need.
There are still so many things up in the air—from actually solidifying things with Palmer to tying up loose ends in my past so I can move on. To here. To her.
She’s the only thing that’s felt right since my retirement. No, since before that.
I work my shoulder around and straighten my legs. They’re unusually stiff this morning. I’m picking up my phone to check my emails when it rings.
“Hey, Fish,” I say, happy to hear from him.
“What’s up?”
“Ah, nothing much. What about you?”
“Same thing, day after day. Actually, not really. I have news.”
I sit up and lean against the table. “Do tell.”
“Well, hold on to your hat, my man, because this one is gonna blow you away.”
I laugh and remember the last time Fish had news. It must’ve been three or four years ago, back in his wild days before Nicole came into the picture. He’d been photographed in Mexico butt naked with three women on a boat.
“Hat is held,” I say. “Give it to me.”
“Well, I’m going to be a dad. Nicole broke the news to me when I got back to town.”
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. “What did you say?”
“Yeah, man. I know.”
His tone is unreadable, and I’m not sure how to respond. I stand up, running a hand through my hair.