Page 99 of Movers and Shakers

But Rose had seen most of it and she was still here. And as much as she reminded me of Lila, she was still different.

Easier to talk to, somehow.

“I hate for people to see me when dealing with my family. I built a life away from them for a reason.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her eyes widen for a moment, but it was gone just as fast as it had arrived. “That sounds lonely.”

“I used to think being alone was good,” I said. “But now I’m not so sure.” I snuck a glance over at her, hoping I wouldn’t see the ghost of Lila.

But I still did.

We pulled in moments later. The driveway was gravel and muddy. A small house sat on a hill with plants surrounding it. In the distance, I could only see one other house, which was where Mom and my grandparents were living. I didn’t give it a second glance, knowing I didn’t need to think too long about the woman who’d caused all this.

This was so different from the hustle and bustle of Nashville. Mom always hated it because it seemed lowly, but in a way, it was also peaceful. While I loved my bar and being in the city, there was a certain charm to this too.

The screen door opened with a loud squeak. A man, tall with broad shoulders in a flannel, walked out. His hair was nearly white, but I could see its tips were blond like mine. He had a long beard, which had grayed as well, and his face was weathered.

But he looked exactly like me.

My heart pounded in my ears and I had no idea what to say.

“Y’all want some salsa?” Wilfred’s accent was deep and rough. I’d heard it on the phone, but it was far more pronounced when I was seeing the rest of him for the first time. He fit the image of a country man perfectly, and I could see why Mom didn’t want to be around him. Once Todd sunk his claws into her, what he hated was what she hated—including her humble upbringing. “Imean, it’s great to see you, Barry. I’m glad you came, but I’d like to skip the awkwardness and bond in my favorite way: food.”

“I would love that,” I said slowly.

“Who is this?” Wilfred asked, his eyes sliding over to Rose.

“I’m Rose, Barry’s moral support for the day.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Rose. Now y’all come in. I’ll pull up an extra seat.”

Chapter Twenty

Rose

Wilfred’s house felt like an old log cabin. The only light filtered in from the front windows and the dimmer space was small but packed. An old, well-loved couch sat in one corner, a small table in another, and through a small doorway was a kitchen. Next to the table were racks of home canned goods and Wilfred picked up a red jar.

“I made this using tomatoes and jalapeños from my garden. I sometimes sell some at farmers markets, but I always keep a little bit for myself. I made homemade chips as well.”

“So, you like cooking?” Barry asked.

“It’s one of my favorite pastimes. It’s only second to sharing the food.” He set down a plate of chips paired with a bowl of salsa.

“Thanks,” I said, taking the first one. The chip was crunchy and salty, but the salsa tasted like it had just come out of the garden. “These are great.”

“Thank you,” he said. “How was the drive?”

“Um, good.”

A silence fell over us, broken a moment later by an awkward laugh from Wilfred.

“Shit, kid,” he said. “I’m bad at small talk. And polite talk.”

“Me too,” Barry admitted.

“Got it from me, I guess.”

“You know what usually worked for me when I met Barry?” I asked after another silence fell over them.

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