Page 16 of A Fighting Chance

What is he hoping for? A fling while I’m supposed to be here helping my heartbroken sister?

That hardly seems appropriate.

I consider all of this. I don’t have time for any of it. I turn to the waste basket near my dresser, but I don’t have the heart to throw out the note. It’s too good, too beautiful. I place it back on the dresser. There’s no harm in keeping it.

I finish dressing, choosing a white cotton summer dress. The kind you don’t need a bra for, which ranks in the top three reasons for wearing them. I throw my wet hair up in a messy bun on top of my head and slide sandals on before making my way out the door and toward the store.

Part of me desperately wants to avoid Gentry, while the other part hopes to see him. I can’t decide which I want more, and it’s irritating. Despite my inner war, I make it to the store without seeing him, and slip inside. I take stock of the place. Not much has changed. Bushels of vegetables line the inside aisles and buckets of apples are on display to the right. The left of the store has shelves of honey, jams, and different preserves. I catch sight of the lemonade stand in the back, next to the pitchers of sweet tea and coolers filled with meats and cheeses. Next to them are the deli cases and baked goods.

Nan is speaking to a customer—helping the woman choose apples—when she sees me. She offers me a wave and a smile.

I smile back, stepping farther into the store. I start toward the lemonade, determined to have a glass. As I’m pouring, Nan joins me.

“Hi, baby, what are you doing here?” she asks.

“Well, I’ve come for some lemonade. And maybe to help you out around here. I can’t very well just sit in the house or walk around aimlessly,” I offer.

Nan nods at me. “Well, I won’t insist you settle in again. I’ll put you to work. There’s always work, baby,” she says, patting me on the forearm.

I pull the glass of lemonade to my lips and sip. I sip until I gulp and then I gulp again. This really is the best damn lemonade I’ve ever had. I don’t even know how people drink the store-bought stuff. I finish with the paper cup and throw it in the trash. Nan will insist I don’t pay for it, but later I’ll slip money into the register.

I start with restocking, replacing the different types of apples in the baskets, attempting to stack them up so they decoratively occupy the space. I move onto restocking the shelves and even speak to a few customers, giving them my recommendations. A few people from town recognize me and we make small talk, catching up. It makes me think of my actual job and how I’ll likely have to get on my laptop later to send a few emails and touch base with some clients, which both bothers and saddens me. I like writing, don’t get me wrong. But writing for clients is a tad annoying at times. Annoying only because it means I’m not writing for myself. I’ll save that conversation with myself for a later time, though.

As the day winds down, I help Nan clean up and close the store. When we’re finished, we walk back toward the house at a leisurely pace, talking about nothing in particular as we catch up on a number of topics and laugh.

After arriving back to the house, we cook dinner together. But my hopes to sit down and eat it are thwarted when Harper comes back from the cabin a few minutes after it’s finished, and all hell breaks loose.

Well, not really. But it’s hell in my head.

“Don’t you and Gentry need to take your rental back before the place closes?” Harper asks me.

“Oh, right,” I say.

“I’ll text him,” she says.

Great. Wonderful.

I’ll be stuck in a car with him after what he saw earlier. I can’t wait.

“He’ll meet you out front in a few minutes. Maybe you guys can stop and eat since you’ll miss dinner here?” Harper says, giving me a shit eating grin.

This is exactly what little sisters do: torment you.

After grabbing my purse and keys from upstairs, I slip outside and wait for him. I sit on the edge of the porch and decide it’s imperative to text Cora about this.

Lyla:You’re not going to believe the type of shit that’s happening here.

Cora:OMG. Tell me everything.

Lyla:First. There’s a hot guy on the farm. Gentry. And he’s making me hot. And he saw me flicking my bean in the shower. And I have to take my rental back. And guess who’s giving me a ride back?

Cora:OMG.

Cora:OMFG.

Lyla:I want to start driving down the road and throw myself out the door while in motion.

Cora:Remain calm. And just, you know, YOLO.

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