Page 51 of To Have and to Scold

“The new YMCA addition.” Portia shrugs. “Just wanted to help in any way we can. And when the person originally in charge of it got sick, we offered to take over.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of you.” I remembered Beck saying Portia hadn’t grown up in Willow Cove, that she’d only moved here to be closer to Elliott. A prick of regret hits my middle. Here I am, so intent on doing my job, for me and my benefit alone, and getting out of here. But Portia, who will be moving away in the fall, is already involved, even chairing a fundraiser last minute?

“Well, like Elliott said, the success of it is still to be determined.” Portia slices through the cheesecake with a knife. “But we’re hopeful people will continue to bid online through the weekend.”

“Yeah, you got the winning bid on a set of fishing poles, by the way,” Elliott says before grabbing a plate and, with the other hand, sinking a large serving spoon into the au gratin potatoes.

“Really?” Beck says, grinning. “Do I want to know how much they’re going to set me back?”

Elliott chuckles. “Probably not.” He takes a bite of potatoes.

“Here you go.” Beck has gathered a thick white paper napkin and a fork, spoon, and knife from his silverware drawer. Then he turns to the island to get the food he’d just plated for me.

It feels good to be fussed over.

The smell of the food makes my mouth water. “It’s generous of you to share,” I say, looking at Elliott and Portia.

Just as Beck is finishing eating, the back door opens and a teen kid and what looks to be his mom walk in.

“Well! Hello.” She reaches out a hand. “I’m Rosie. I live next door with my youngest son, Leo. Are you Dallas Cardon?”

“I am. It’s nice to meet you,” I say, wiping my rib sauce-coated sticky hands with the napkin so I can shake hers.

“If Beck gives you any trouble, you come to me,” she says, winking. I like her instantly. And the way they just walk into the back door of Beck’s house feels friendly and comfortable. It’s nice.

“Dallas and I work together,” Beck says.

“I wasn’t talking about anything other than work,” she insists, her face the picture of amused innocence. She turns to Portia. “How are the wedding plans?”

“We think we’ve nailed down a location. It’s taken us some time, but I think we have it.” Portia’s eyes gleam as she glances at Elliott. “I’d love to get a wedding planner’s opinion on some things.” She holds up both hands. “Fair warning, though. I like what I like and my style’s not for everyone. But it would still be nice to have a professional’s opinion.”

“I’d love to take a look at what you have so far.”

While Portia shows me her Pinterest board with the mix of Bohemian and seventies chic bridesmaid dresses and décor, I tune into what Beck is doing. He’s stationed on the great room sofa, sitting with Leo, looking at the fishing pole Leo brought.

He threads a fishing line through the eyelets on the top of the pole. “You trying to get some Reds tomorrow?” he asks Leo, who’s watching with great interest.

“I hope so. The guys I’m going with have all caught them before, but I haven’t yet.”

“You’ll get one soon,” Beck says. “What time are you leaving in the morning?”

“We’re supposed to meet up at the cove at six. Be on the boat on the water by six fifteen.”

Beck whistles. “It’s a Saturday. That level of dedication has got to be good luck.”

“I hope so,” Leo says.

“I hate to sound like a stuffy old parent here, but let’s hurry up with this line so you can get to bed,” Beck says.

“Check yourself, Beck. My mom is well aware,” Leo chides.

“Oh, yes,” Rosie insists. “He’s going to bed as soon as y’all are done with that line.”

There’s such a feeling of brotherly affection between Beck and Leo that my heart does a little flippy thing.

Watching them working on the fishing pole and listening to Beck’s careful instructions to Leo have me grinning ear to ear.

It’s heartwarming.

---