Page 11 of The Party Line

“And San Antonio isn’t even half an hour away.”

He nodded toward Jasper’s place. “What do you think they’re laughing about?”

“Jasper is older than Everett, but they’ve lived through a lot of the same eras. They’ve got a lot of memories to talk about—or old jokes that only they would think are still funny.”

“You got that right. So, are you going to really live here, or is this just a stopover until you find out what you really want to do?”

“I have no idea.” Where did that answer come from, the back corner of my mind? At this moment in time, I planned to live in Ditto forever. I noticed that he was waiting for me to say more, so I turned it back on him. “How about you? When do you get the fancy oil-business crown?”

“Very funny. I’m next in line to take over the business, but I need to learn everything I can from Grandpa,” he answered. “I hope he livesto be a hundred or even beyond that. I figure it will take me that long to be ready to step into his old work boots.”

“Starting tomorrow, you will likely know about the selling portion of the strawberry business,” I said.

“More than that. I was here for the strawberry season last fall, and then I’ve been helping the crew take care of things since the spring season started.”

“That’s a step in the right direction.” I put a foot on the lower porch step and tried to ignore the sparks dancing around like little fairies above my head. “Nice meeting you, Connor. My break time is over, so I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” he said.

I worked on the files that had been sent to me the day before, but thoughts of Connor distracted me several times. He had liked my accent, and he’d said I was beautiful. I sure hoped he didn’t think that a couple of compliments would cause me to lead him up to my bedroom. I’d played a similar game a few times before, and it had not ended well.

Because I had spent a few extra minutes on my break that morning, and time got away from me at noon, my workday didn’t end until five thirty that evening. I was starving, so I heated up what was left of the takeout I had brought home on Sunday and ate it standing up by the counter. I had just finished off the last bite when Mama knocked on the back door and poked her head inside. “Hey, I’m going into town to get some groceries. Want to go with me?”

“Sure,” I said with a nod, “and maybe we can get an ice cream cone afterwards?”

“Sounds good. Meet you in the car.”

“Be there soon as I put on some shoes and grab my purse.” I washed my plate and fork and put them in the dish drainer.

Hopefully, there would come a day when Mama would be comfortable in Aunt Gracie’s house, but today wasn’t that day. But whether she did or did not, she was still my mother, and it didn’t matter if we spent time together in her house or in mine. Calling Aunt Gracie’s placeminestill seemed strange when the word came to my mind, and even stranger in my ears when I said it out loud.

Mama was listening to the playlist on her phone when I slid into the passenger’s seat. George Strait was singing “Check Yes or No,” and she was keeping time with her thumbs on the steering wheel.

“I went to see George three years ago,” she said. “He and Chris Stapleton were touring together. They were both fabulous.”

I set my purse on the floor and fastened my seat belt. “I remember how excited you were, and that you came home and started listening to Chris as well as George.”

“Aside from having the blessings of you and Aunt Gracie, that was one of the highlights of my life,” she said and then frowned.

“Whoa!” I said. “You were smiling one minute, and then it turned into a frown. What happened now?”

“Annie, my friend from Annie’s Café, called me today and offered me a job,” she blurted out.

“So now you have three options.”

“Yes, I do, and I was struggling with two,” she admitted. “But we’ll think about that tomorrow. Today, we’re going to talk about you and how you are adjusting to living inthat house.”

“Did Aunt Gracie’s place always affect you this way?”

She started the engine and turned to face me. “Not as much as it has since Aunt Gracie died. There was a feeling in it when you were little, but not like now.”

“What kind of feeling?” I bent forward and groped around in my purse until I found my sunglasses.

“I can’t describe it. Just something unsettling, like that awkward feeling you get when you walk up on some folks having a conversationand they suddenly quit talking. You know they are talking about you, but you aren’t sure how to handle it gracefully.”

“Kind of like someone is pushing you out the door?” I asked.

“That’s right!” She nodded as she released the parking brake. “Aunt Gracie wouldn’t ever make me feel like that. But someone in that place doesn’t want me there.”

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