Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50080 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
“Are you going to tell me Zane’s back?”
His eyes show so much surprise. He nods slowly, unsurely. I take his hands, ones I considered frail until now. Now they seem strong, confident in the way they move around to grip mine.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve called you last night.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Whitaker. I’m happy for you. It’s been a long time since Zane’s been home.”
“Yes, it is. This may be a Merry Christmas after all.”
“I’m sure it will be.”
Although, I’m not sure how I feel about Zane bringing his girlfriend to my house for Christmas dinner, assuming plans won’t change and Bernie is still intending on coming to the farm on Christmas day, as he’s always done. It’s something to discuss later. Right now, I want to be happy for Bernie.
“I’m sorry he brought his fiancée with him, though. I’ve always hoped . . .”
Whatever Mr. Whitaker says after fiancée is nothing more than muffled gibberish. How foolish of me to assume Caryn was his girlfriend. It never crossed my mind that they would be anything more. I never expected Zane to have a fiancée.
That is . . . wow.
I do my best to keep my expression normal. I nod when I think I’m supposed to nod and excuse myself to go stack his order of trees. Outside, I find Jake conducting tree business like he’s some conductor at a concert. I stand aside and let him sell the trees my dad works so hard to grow. He gives directions to the farm and tells the patrons about the other goods we sell, and how they can cut their own trees.
“Or come back in an hour and we’ll have more here,” he tells each one of them.
“We will?”
Jakes looks at me sheepishly.
“It’s good, Jake. I’ll make another run.” I turn and look at the door of Whitaker’s General Store. “You just keep taking care of Mr. Whitaker for me.”
“Of course, Eve.”
I honk as I pull away, rounding the corner and driving down the road until I can circle back around and stop by my office. If things were falling apart here, Noelle would have let me know. As soon as I walk in, I sigh at the warmth. It means the furnace is working and I’m not going to freeze to death tonight.
“Go grab lunch,” I tell her when she looks up. “I’ll cover for a bit.”
“You’re the best boss ever.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“I’m heading down to Evergreen’s. Do you want something?”
“Oh, yes. If they have corn chowder, I’ll take a bread bowl and a peppermint mocha. Here.” I hand her my credit card. “Put yours on there, too.”
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “You pick up a lot of slack during the holidays. It’s the least I can do.”
Noelle spins on her heel with her arm raised and my credit card extended in the air. She chants, “I have the best boss ever,” as she leaves.
I don’t mind paying for her lunch or picking up a coffee for her. She does the same. While we’re a firm of two and don’t have a holiday party, we will go out to dinner before Christmas, and I’ll give her a bonus. With each case I settle, I set aside a certain percentage for her. I’m not sure I’d be able to run this firm as effectively as I do without her.
While Noelle’s out getting lunch, I text my dad to let him know I need another round of trees and to expect a rush of people thanks to Jake’s effective selling methods. I turn on my computer and click on my email icon. I told myself a long time ago, I wouldn’t put the email app on my phone for work because I needed to set some boundaries, especially since I live upstairs. Having a solid work-life balance is important, but that doesn’t mean I don’t work on cases while I’m home.
“Hello?”
Zane’s voice echoes through the firehouse. While the station had been renovated, a lot of the appeal of having my business here is the character. The original fireman’s pole is still standing, along with old coat hooks and firefighter cubbies. Some walls have gone up, which were needed for insulation, but there’s no mistaking this was once an open space. It’s historic and I love it.
Until now.
I’d know his voice anywhere. Day or night. It’s distinct and haunted my dreams for many, many years. It’s a gruff, yet smooth baritone. There was a time when his voice would send chills down my spine.
It still does. Just not in the way I want.
Before I can stand, he’s in my doorway, looking as handsome as I remember. I don’t have to remind myself that I’m mad at him or hate him or whatever this emotion is I feel, but I have to pinch myself to not smile at him. It’s my automatic response.