Page 31 of Sutton and the CEO's Baby

CHAPTER 11

Candice was quiet asthey drove in Knox’s police car back to his place. He lived not far from Fullsome Creek, which if you followed for about half a mile, you would run into the Baker Mansion. She had been to Knox’s home a time or two while they were dating. But Candice felt more comfortable out at Sutton’s trailer.

Knox lived closer to downtown where there were neighbors and eyes that watched your every move. In the city, where Candice was raised, she didn’t know the people that lived on the same floor let alone the entire neighborhood.

You worry about yourself in New York, and in the city if someone tried to get in your business, you quickly put them back in their place.

It wasn’t that her family wasn’t friendly. Candice’s parents worked most of the time and the nannies would arrange for play dates and take herthe children to practice and dance lessons. It was a different way of life. She couldn’t say that one or the other was better; it was just different.

When Knox pulled into his driveway, he immediately came around to open her door. He was always a gentleman like that no matter how many times Candice told him she was perfectly capable of opening the door on her own.

Secretly, she liked the old-fashioned chivalry.

Knox popped the trunk and grabbed her bag before they moved up the walk to the front porch.

“Hey there, Sheriff,” Mrs. Beason called out from next door.

She was out drowning her weeds much like she was most days. Whatever plant had been originally placed there was long gone. Her garden hose ran most waking hours of the day, with her eyes being as poor as they were. Mrs. Beason just watered everything anyway, just in case.

“Good evening, Mrs. Beason. I will be right over to fetch your mail for you.”

Candice glanced down at the mailbox in front of Mrs. Beason’s home.

“I can grab your mail, Mrs. Beason.”

The older woman swung the hose around as she squinted, searching for the young lady that had been speaking to her.

“It’s Candice, Mrs. Beason.”

Candice jogged over to the older woman’s box and pulled out the mail. She had several pieces of junk mail and a few bills. Once she got closer, Candice asked if she wanted her to put the mail in the house.

“Oh yes, dear! Just on the table, that would be fine.”

Candice opened the door and made her way to the kitchen, placing the mail in the center. She turned to go when she saw something on the computer that caught her eye. She moved closer and saw pictures of children taped to the side of the monitor. Their clothing was years out of date, and one could see by the quality of the images that these were old photographs.

Candice tried to remember if Mrs. Beason had ever had a visitor during any of the times she had visited Knox. Sadly, the answer was no. Candice made her way outside and noticed that Knox had taken over thewateringwhile Mrs. Beason sat in a lawn chair chatting away about this, that, and the other.

It was moments like this when Candice felt her heart melting into a big puddle of goo. The men she had dated in the city would never have taken the time out of their evening to talk with a lonely widow. Knox looked over at her and smiled, effectively melting any resistance that she might have been building against him.

“Candice!” Mrs. Beason beamed. “I wasn’t aware you were back in town. When are you going to give up those city ways and stay with us for good?”

Leave it to Mrs. Beason to bring up the one thing that she and Knox never talked about.

“Maybe someday.” Candice smiled at the older woman, noticing how thin and frail she looked in the lawn chair. “Have you eaten? I could fix you something.”

There had been a time in Candice’s life when offering to cook a meal would have been akin to offering up her kidney. So many things had changed for her in Otterville Falls.

“Oh no, dear, I had a bacon and tomato sandwich for lunch, and I am still paying for it.”

Candice swallowed her smile. “Oh, I do hope that you feel better.”

Mrs. Beason shook her head. “I think that mayonnaise has turned.”

Knox looked up abruptly. “Did you get new mayonnaise? Because I told you the last time I got a glass of sweet tea that it was expired.”

Mrs. Beason scoffed, “Expiration dates are a ploy they use to steal your money. We never worried about such things when I was growing up and I daresay we were a far sight healthier.”

Candice winced at the thought of what sour mayonnaise could do to one’s insides.

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