Page 52 of The Promise Of You

Chloe

“My parents said you’re coming. Plus, you have no excuse. Your restaurant is closed on Sundays. They’re expecting you.”

That was Haley, yesterday morning at Easy Monday. There was no mention of Justin, and his pub is open on Sundays.

Plus, why would they invite me if he’ll be there? He’s their son. They wouldn’t do that to him.

Ergo, Justin won’t be there.

The town is all decked out for July 4th celebrations as I drive through it—flags and banners and red-white-and-blue flower arrangements. I’m proud the restaurant will be part of the festivities. Corine and David worked extra to create small bites and fruit punches. Samuel won’t work it, but he’s stayed courteous through the tasting, not exactly partaking in it but not shooting it down either. Corine will come and prep on Monday. I'll make it work with just Abby and Shoshana. It’ll help our bottom line and bring the restaurant back into the community.

Why wasn’t Uncle Kevin more invested in Emerald Creek? And why didn’t Aunt Dawn ever go to his restaurant? Surely she would have done something about it’s appearance. It’s a moot point now anyway. How well did I really know them? I spent a few summers with them, but that was a long time ago. Things change. Children’s perception of things are just that. Children’s perceptions.

I veer under North Bridge onto a long, bucolic country road which Haley said leads straight to the farm (‘You can’t miss it’), but first winds through a spectacular landscape of lush pastures and thick woods. A sign at the bottom of a hill indicates I am entering King Knoll Farm, but with no sign of a farmhouse, I keep going. Just one soft hill after another, the rocky road dipping under the canopy of trees, then hopping over brooks that bubble down to the Emerald Creek.

The peacefulness of it all calms my nerves. My windows are rolled down, the air playing with my hair, bees zipping in and out of the car.

This will be fine. Having Sunday dinner at Justin’s parents will be nothing. Correction. At Haley’s parents. And Justin will not be there.

After one last turn, I happen upon a vast clearing, in the distance, a massive red barn built alongside the slope of the hill. Pastures delineated by white fencing. Woods framing the whole. In the forefront, a large, white farmhouse surrounded by a wraparound porch. People standing on the porch, looking in the distance or chatting or lounging in one of several porch swings. Around the house, children running after one other, chickens flying away as they approach.

In front of the house, a variety of cars parked haphazardly.

And Moose, his tongue lolling out, ambling like a goof to greet me.

Shoot. Nope. I can’t do that.

Luckily, no one’s seen me—I don’t think—so I put the car in reverse and twist my neck around to see where I’m going.

Just as I think I can make my escape unnoticed, Craig King waves at me through the rear window, a big grin on his face. I hit the brakes.

“You’re fine right there, sweetheart,” he says as he walks up to my open window. “No one cares about parallel parking here.”

“Um… actually.” My eyes dart to Moose, dreading seeing Justin come for him. “Something came up, and I have to go. I’ll—I’ll call Mrs. King to apologize, but it’s rather urgent.” I lift my foot off the brake, giving Mr. King the hint, I hope.

He backs up with me, his hand on the window.

“This about my son?” he asks.

“Um…”

“Justin. Knucklehead. This about what he said to you?”

I feel heat running up my face. “I’m sorry, Mr. King. I didn’t—yes—no,” I shake my head. “I really should go,” I plead on a whisper.

“Craig,” he corrects me. “You’re gonna hurt Lynn’s feelings—Mrs. King. But if that’s what you want.” He lets go of the window and stares at me like he’s the one who’s hurt right now. “My son is really an idiot. The rest of the family, we’re okay. Why don’t you find out for yourself? It’s just us and a few close friends. I understand you’re close to Haley now. She’d like to have you. Poor girl has four brothers. You can imagine.”

I glance out my windshield. Haley’s infectious laughter trills all the way here. Two little girls chase each other. Moose sets his head on the car’s windowsill.

“Made a mean brisket,” he adds sweetly.

How bad can it be? I kill the engine, grab the dish I made, and breathe in—breathe out as I follow him.

I’m barely on the front porch when Haley takes my dish and brings it inside, Mrs. King greets me with a side hug and reminds me to call her Lynn, and Cassandra ambles to me, her blueish hair flowing around her, her mysterious smile comforting me. “Every Thursday we have Game Nights in the back of my boutique. You have to come. It’ll be so fun. We’ll find someone to come and help close the restaurant so you can bring all your girls too.”

My girls? Does she mean the women in my staff? “Where…?”

“Corine knows. Bring Shoshana and Abby too. Promise?”

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