Page 31 of The Friendly Fall

“That would be so helpful.”

“Well then, just hit me up whenever you need me,” I say, going back to raking the leaves. “I’m a pretty busy guy, but I’m not busyallthe time.”

“Hmm, I’m not super convinced you aren’tbusy all the time,” Eliza counters. “Vanessa says you are, anyway.”

I look up at her at the mention of the name. “So, you and Daniel’s wife hit it off, then?” I don’t know why it feels like I’m on the edge of my seat, but for some reason, I’m hoping like heck the two of them become close friends.

“Yeah.” She grins. “You could say we’re on our way to being besties.”

I shake my head at her goofy response. “Well, that’s good. I’ll buy you some BFF bracelets or something.”

“Oh no need for that,” she chirps. “We’ll make our own.”

We both erupt in laughter, and it feels freakinggood.

Her green eyes meet mine as the laughter fades, and I catch myself feelingallthe things…

Is she feeling this too?

However, before we can say anything more, the front door opens and Ms. Marilyn steps out onto the porch.

I get back to raking the leaves, feeling like I just got caught goofing off at work or something.

“You two sure are getting along…” she says.

“Yeah,” Eliza answers before I can. “I’m probably keeping him from getting anything done.”

“You’ve only slowed me down a little.” I shoot her a wink as Marilyn laughs.

“Well, to be honest, I just wandered out here to see if you’d like to join us for dinner. I made a homemade pot pie.” Marilyn’s eyes jump to the rake in my hand. “I appreciate the help, but you don’t have to do all that. How about you skip work tonight? You’re always working, and with the festival coming, you could probably use the night off.”

I hesitate, glancing over to Eliza to try and read her face, but her expression is completely unreadable.

I can’t tell if she wants me to join them for dinner, or if she’d rather me leave altogether.

“Please, Nick.” Marilyn’s voice softens. “Your mom already told me that you’re planning to do all this work for free, and that you’re not even charging us for the materials.”

I push away the tinge of irritation in my chest.

I don’t like it when my mom outs my plans.

“Well…”

“Take the night off,” Eliza finally says, her lips tugging upward into a smile. “Granny’s pot pieisto die for.”

That’s all I need to agree to dinner.

Fifteen minutes later, the yard is picked up and I’m sitting across from Eliza and Ms. Marilyn at the dinner table. “This smells amazing,” I remark, glancing down at the steaming pile of vegetables, crust, and filling.

“Just wait til you taste it,” Eliza quips, a smile on her face. She spears a huge bite with her fork and blows on it.

“Before we dig in, I think it’s best if we say a little prayer of thanks,” Marilyn announces, extending out her hands to both Eliza and me.

I glance over at Eliza, who nods in agreement, before slowly setting her fork full of food down. I hold in my chuckle, as her cheeks flush with embarrassment, and then reach out to clasp Ms. Marilyn’s hand.

“Go on you two, join hands,” Marilyn urges with a gentle smile. Eliza shoots me an awkward smile, but we both comply with her granny’s request, interlocking our hands on top of the table. Her skin is warm and soft, fitting perfectly against my calloused palm; atingle runs up my arm at the contact. I fight to keep my cool as Ms. Marilyn begins the prayer, giving thanks for the food before us.

As the prayer concludes, we all say “Amen” in unison, and then Eliza eagerly picks up her fork once more, taking a bite of the pot pie and closing her eyes in delight at the taste.

---