Page 26 of Building What's Meant to Be

Bess lengthens her spine. “We cannot be buttered.”

I brush my hand across my forehead. “Guys, I was just in jail. I’m hungry.”

“Speaking of, what about the cat?” Christina asks.

“The cat is fine,” I answer.

“So you admit to stealing it?” Christina gasps.

I open and close my mouth then whisper. “I rescued it.”

Mae pokes me in the chest. “Aiden Peter Fuller, you better come clean about the cat and everything else.”

That’s a tall order and I’d like to. But I can only give them some info and it’ll be best done over the ultimate peacemaker, pie.

And the Starlight Diner across the street has the best crust and filling anywhere. Time to lay down the law.

“If you didn’t notice, I was just in jail. I’m going to get a slice of pie. Maybe some biscuits and gravy too. Anyone that would like to join me and have a civil conversation is welcome,” I say.

Mae and Bess exchange a look of surprise as if they’ve never heard me speak with such authority before. And that’s because, in front of them, I only show my farm boy self, the funny side. The practical joker and hard worker. They’ve never witnessed the motorcycle maverick and for good reason.

I gesture for Tinsley to join us if only because I have a feeling she may also need to explain herself.

“I’ll only go if she doesn’t,” Mae says, arms still folded defiantly.

I gently drop my hand onto her shoulder. “Given the history there, I’d ordinarily go along with that, but as it is, you’re stuck with both of us. Officer Henley sentenced us to thirty days of community service at Bubba’s.”

“Together?” Mae asks.

“That’s what I asked,” Tinsley mutters.

Christina rubs her palms rapidly like this is exciting news rather than hard work. “Bubba’s is in desperate need of some TLC.”

“I was going to say some DTL as in Desperate Loving Care,” Camellia says.

“I definitely think we should encourage a new expression, making DTL synonymous with TLC, considering that’s the status of most of our projects on the show,” Christina says.

“I like it,” Camellia adds.

Their laughter is a welcome snip to the tension.

Tinsley trails behind on the short walk to the Starlight. I open the door, holding it until she passes through. With the sequins on her dress sparkling like mermaid scales and with her big brown eyes, she looks like a fish out of water—though she could probably walk a red carpet with no problem.

“Welcome to the Starlight Diner,” I say. “Rhondy and Paul, Cassian’s parents, own it and are the best baker and cook in the county.”

“The country,” Mae says giving me a sharp side eye as she brushes past.

My nerves settle at the familiar sweet and savory scent of the Starlight. Since Mae lives in the old family farmhouse and I’m not yet done building my house, I currently consider this place home.

Notably, a pair of older women with poofy white hair occupy the table where Stoll usually holds court. The guy eats no less than three slices of pie per day, which is significant even thoughit’s the best stuff in the country. I’m just going to agree with Mae from now on.

Even though I teased and pranked her when we were younger, it was in good fun. This is next-level sibling animosity and I can’t take it.

There are twelve of us so there’s no way we can fit into a booth. Instead, we fit several tables together toward the back of the restaurant. Better to talk in private.

Rhondy brings over a stack of menus, not that we need them. Her smile is smaller than usual and she gives me a once-over as if she too knows about the cat. I’m going to have to work on my burglary skills. Thing is, usually, I’m the one trying to stop crime. Though this investigation is a long game and I have to play my hand carefully.

Paul, the cook, calls from the kitchen window, “Hey, Aiden. Why will you never find a farmer in jail?”

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