Page 4 of Finding Home

The waitress huffed. “You girls and your no carb diets. What will your lover grab on to?”

“My niece is a nun, so nobody is grabbing anything.”

“I’m not a nun.”

“I’d say. Although, I’m sure folks wouldn’t mind you slapping them with a ruler, while wearing that tight little skirt,” the server crooned.

Pete’s hands flashed up. “Uncle present! Bring me her biscuit with the Lumberjack Breakfast. Eggs scrambled and sausage, please. I have three and a half weeks to enjoy the metabolism of my forties.”

“You got it.” The server sauntered away.

“Thanks for letting me eat your biscuit.” He winked.

Elle’s eyes widened. “Please don’t wink while speaking of my biscuit.”

“Is biscuit dirty?”

“You sweet innocent man,” she cooed.

“I’m glad you’re here. It’s been too long.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

“Me too.” The guilt prickled. Ithadbeen too long since she’d sat across a table from him. She knew it was her fault.

He sloshed a long breath. “Your mom called. She’d like to see you.”

“No.” It was almost a growl.

They’d had this conversation before. A truce was brokered for Tobey’s wedding and Pete’s birthday. Her mother agreed to not approach nor speak to Elle, who agreed to attend both events in return.

“I know you don’t want to talk about what happened with your mom, but she’s hurting.”

“She’s hurting?” Elle hissed, crossing her arms over her chest.

Elle was all too aware of her mother’shurting; that pain had been an unwanted sibling for much of her teens. Beforethatday twenty-four years ago, fragile was a word used to describe her grandma’s porcelain doll collection, not people. That day Elle learned people could break. Dolls could be put back together with glue or tossed and replaced. What did you do with broken people? At twelve, Elle didn’t have a clue. At thirty-six, she stilldidn’t know. What she did know was if you were too close to something broken, the sharp edges could cut.

“She’s not as strong as you.” His voice was soft.

“Clearly.”

A furrow creased his forehead. “Eleanor.”

“I don’t want to have this discussion again. I don’t want to argue with you. Can we just stick with the plan? I’m here for Tobey and you, not her… I love you, you’re my favorite uncle.”

“I’m your only uncle.” The skin around his eyes crinkled.

“My one and only.”

Such an uncle! Before leaving for Perry, Pete haggled with the rental car clerk to get Elle a discount and inspected the vehicle.

“I want to see this place. I heard Doc Owens did a great job with the renovation.” Pete held open her car door for her to get in.

“Dr. Owens owns the Airbnb?”

“Yeah, he bought it two years ago after the divorce.”

“Divorce?” Her jaw slackened.

Dr. Owens, the village’s sole primary physician, and his wife had been together for forty years. They had three kids: CJ, a year older than Elle, and Natalie and Evan, who were younger. For god’s sake, they’d held hands in the stands during CJ’s football games.

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