Page 38 of When I Fall In Love

“Ok, good.” He exhales. “Good. We both have to sign, so I’m glad you had your reality check. Now that you’ve seen the farm, why don’t you fly to the Bahamas or something for a real vacation, like a normal person?” A female voice on the other side chirps up with a comment about the Bahamas and I roll my eyes. “I’ve got to go. Brenda is on top of things, and you should let it go, Beth.”

“Yeah.” There is a huge difference between knowing what you should do, and actually doing it. “We’ll chat soon.”

I’m busy cleaning up after lunch and getting ready to head into town when my phone rings. It better not be Kyle. I’m still sour about his normal person comment. I pick up my phone and answer. It’s Brenda and she’s practically hyperventilating on the line.

“We have another offer! This one for six and a half million. Beth, I know Kyle will want to sign on this, but honestly, the Beaumonts are looking for a Vermont foothold and I’m sure if I can get them over here, they will add another million to their six already on the table as a counteroffer.” Brenda breaks off and inhales sharply, “That makes it a full seven million! Just as I predicted.”

I barely manage to suppress a groan. Brenda is counting chickens before they’ve hatched. And the greed—I get enough of it at work, I don’t need it when it comes to the farm’s sale too. “That’s awesome, I’m sure,” I say on a sigh. “Let’s get it all on paper?” Before we overexcite ourselves.

“Of course. I think Nathan Beaumont would like to come see for himself before he reviews their offer. He’s in charge of the company’s expansion plans into the States.”

Nice gig. “That’s fine. I wouldn’t expect it any other way.”

“It might delay the process a bit, though.”

“And Kyle stressed that he wants the farm sold yesterday already. I know. Let’s see what the Beaumonts do and if they make a counteroffer.”

“I’ll keep you posted, honey,” Brenda croons, and I kill the call with a short bye before she can realize her unprofessional misstep.

I press the button to open my car door and get into the driver’s seat. Pushing a key with vigor into a keyhole is much more satisfying than pressing a stupid key fob. I’m riled up from every side and my brewing sexual frustration isn’t helping. Hunter is a shadow behind every thought I have and he’s working on my nerves in all the wrong places.

I shift the car into gear and press on the gas, shooting a glance at his place through the veil of orange, red and yellow leaves that separates our homes. The house isn’t just a single A-frame, but a double A-frame, with the one on the entrance side being bigger. That’s where he has those extra bedrooms and TV lounge on the top floor because the front of the A-frame overlooks the lake and has his master bedroom with that view.

Georgiana was right—from a design perspective, the house could probably win a prize. What eats me still is that Hunter didn’t build this all at once. By the sounds of it, he built it pay-as-you-go and is mortgage free.

If I sell the farm, I’ll be mortgage free too. I’ll buy something outright and nobody could ever evict me again. This thought propels me all the way to Ashleigh Lake. Now that I’m no longer incognito, I might as well show my face in town. I slow down as I drive onto the main thoroughfare. Everything looks the same and yet different. More upmarket, quainter than before, more… cared for? I might have been blind to Ashleigh Lake’s small-town charm when I grew up here but having lived in San Francisco with its homeless issue and having clung to the edges of poverty myself for years before worming out of it, this place suddenly seems to be dusted with a sparkle of magic.

All along the street fall decor catches my eye—from friendly scarecrows to pumpkins and harvest wreaths, to the odd Halloween-related spooky ghost hanging in a shop window. They like to keep the creepy contained in town, but that only holds for the main road with its pretty shopfronts.

I take the turn to Al’s Grocer and find the place easily. Hard to miss, but I suppose not everything in Ashleigh Lake can be picture perfect. I park the car and am climbing out when a man’s eyes arrest my movement.

“Bob?” I ask, getting all my legs out and closing the door, at a loss for words. He’s more hunched, his full beard is almost white, but his eyes look sharp.

“My-oh-my, Beth Anderson. Out of the woodwork at last.” Bob tips his cap at me and I’m stunned that he’s recognized me at one glance. For someone not quite there, Bob is a presence in both mind and body. “Coming to get what’s yours, sweet gal? He’s been waitin’, you know.”

As I step unto the curb, my footsteps falter. “Are you doing okay?”

“Sure am, ma’am.”

“And the aliens?”

“Still coming. But not this winter.”

This makes me laugh. “That’s good to know. And where do you stay during winter?” The past few days were gloriously mild, but they were the last spasms of a summer that will soon be long gone.

“Not to worry, your Hunter Logan sorts me out. Puts me up in his cottage.”

“Oh. Good.” For a moment I just stare at him, a new urge swelling in me. “Have you ever managed to reconnect with your people?”

He only shrugs and looks away.

When Bob walked into Ashleigh Lake there was a massive drive to figure out his identity and story, and to notify his family of his whereabouts. I orchestrated a food and clothing drive for him. Bob made me realize I could help others who struggled, even if my own circumstances were dire. Helping Bob taught me to give and that I could turn things around if I put my mind to it.

The store’s automatic doors open and a harassed mom and screaming toddler stuck in the cart bail out and rush through the space between us.

It breaks the spell, and I don’t have the guts to dig deeper or ask what he meant about someone waiting for me. “It’s so good to see you, Bob. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“No doubts there.”

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