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)
“I heard she’s been staying in Albany.”
“Really?” The news surprises me somewhat, although I haven’t seen her around town, but I also haven’t been looking.
“I think she has a job there,” my dad says as if he knows anything about Zane’s fiancée.
“You shouldn't speculate about people, Dad. It’s not nice.” Nor is it true. Because I’m a glutton for punishment, I looked Caryn up on the web. Zane was telling the truth. She doesn’t work. Sure, with her mom they organize benefits, but none I would consider beneficial. It’s not like they’re out raising money for the food bank or pet rescue. They’re holding five-thousand-dollar-per-plate fundraisers for already rich people. Which is weird when I think about it. Zane is the total opposite.
This one time, we were driving back from Manchester. It had rained a ton and there was some flooding. We found a turtle in the middle of the road, trying to make it to safety. Zane stopped his truck so fast, careful not to hit the little creature. He blocked the road, got out, and carried the turtle toward the river. He never thought twice about it. Knowing what I know, it makes me wonder if Zane ever asks Caryn to help someone else. But then again, Zane was going to be that type of lawyer and went down the corporate route instead. People change and sometimes it’s not always for the better.
Dad finishes with the cord and takes it from my arms. He sets it on the ground, and then picks up another one. “Can I ask you a question?” He begins wrapping the thick wire around my arms.
“Of course.”
“Are you going to take Zane back?”
My mouth drops open at his ridiculous question. “Dad! Zane is engaged. There is no taking Zane back. Besides, we’re different people than who we were five years ago.”
“Bernie, along with your mom and I, have always hoped the two of you would get back together.”
“What? Why? He left me, Dad. Did you forget having to make a trip to Boston to help me move?”
“No, sweetie. I haven’t forgotten. But sometimes a parent just knows.”
I roll my eyes. “And sometimes parents are senile and stuck in delulu land.”
Dad gives a noncommittal hum as he finishes the last extension cord, and I take it to his truck. “I’m going to run home and get dressed. I need to pick Mr. Whitaker up.”
“All right. Your mom and I will be here when you get back.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
The drive to my place from the town center is a few minutes, and not enough time to digest the crap my dad said about me getting back together with Zane. I officially think my parents have fallen off the sanity wagon with those thoughts. I can understand Mr. Whitaker feeling this way. Mostly, when a couple breaks up, one party stops talking to the other’s parents. This didn’t happen to me. I’ve always been close with Zane’s dad and intend to remain that way. Which may contribute to his dislike of Caryn. I wonder if I should say something. Encourage him to give her a chance.
Or do I mind my own business?
“Definitely, mind your own business,” Noelle says. I look at her with a confused expression.
“You said it out loud, so I was giving you the answer. What are we minding our own business about?”
“I was lamenting to myself. My dad dropped the nugget that he, my mom, and Mr. Whitaker would like to see Zane and I together again.”
“Ooh.”
“Yeah, never mind poor Caryn, who could be trying to impress her soon-to-be father-in-law.”
“What do you mean, trying?”
I shrug. “She’s not here. She’s in Albany according to my dad, the new town gossip.”
Noelle stifles a laugh.
“But I’m just saying that maybe Mr. Whitaker needs to give her a chance.” I sigh. “I’m going to go change and pick up our grand marshal. Will I see you there?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Thankfully, I had the keen sense of mind to clean the truck up before driving to pick Mr. Whitaker up. People honk as they pass by, waving. The twinkling lights wrapped around the wood slates give my truck a very Christmassy feel. The chief of police isn’t happy, but he’ll get over it soon.
It has been years since I’ve been out to the Whitaker house, choosing to see Bernie at the store or when he’s at my parents’ house. I pull into the driveway and head up the familiar walkway onto the porch, and knock. The door opens and Zane stands there, dressed in one of his cable-knit sweaters. Shamelessly, my eyes travel down his body and I smile when I get to his boots. They’re untied.
Perfect. After a little over a week, he’s fully embracing who he truly is. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m glad the stuffy attorney from New York isn’t here.