Page 33 of Playing for Keeps in Starr's Fall
He paused, feeling a sudden twist of sympathy for his sister. He was so frustrated with her so often that it felt weird and a little uncomfortable to attempt to view things from her perspective and acknowledge how hard she was working with very little reward. “I know I probably seem like I don’t really care about much,” he said carefully, “because I guess it’s something of a defense mechanism with me. But why are you so resistant, Jenna? Because I think even you can admit that we’re not creating a time capsule here. Technology has forced businesses to move fast, to adapt or go bust. The store could be so much more than it is.”
Jenna didn’t answer for a long moment. Her gaze was still fixed on the computer screen, her body slumped in the chair, her long auburn hair falling down her back in its usual single braid.
“Yeah,” she finally admitted on a long, world-weary sigh. “I know.”
It didn’t seem like much, and yet it was so much more than she’d ever admitted to him before.
“And?” Zach pressed after a moment, when it didn’t seem as if his sister was going to say anything else. “If you agree with what I’m saying…”
“I just don’t want to become something we’re not,” Jenna explained, a spark of fire entering her eyes. “I’m not going to start wearing fancy country gear and stocking two-hundred-dollar candles and acting like they’re a bargain.”
“That’s not what I?—”
“We’re not Litchfield people,” she cut across him, her tone fierce, too fierce for what they were talking about. “This isn’t a Litchfield store.”
“You know,” Zach half-joked, “it’s not like Litchfield isthatnice.”
She let out a huff of laughter that held no real humor in it. “You know what I mean.”
Didhe? Yes, Zach supposed, Litchfield was more upmarket than Starr’s Fall, but what did Jenna have against a little class? Unless there was something else going on, which, judging by the ferocity of tone, the strength of her resistance, it seemed like there probably was. He glanced at the clock above the stove, wishing he had more time to hash this—whateverthiswas—out with his sister, but he’d promised Maggie he’d be with Ben by eight, and it was already five minutes past. He didn’t want to be any later; she’d been worried already about leaving Ben alone even for a short time.
“I’ve got to go,” he told Jenna. “But we’ll talk about this later, okay?”
She shrugged as she straightened and then turned back to her laptop and started clicking on the mouse again. “Yeah, okay.”
Suppressing a sigh, Zach scooped up his truck keys and headed out the door.
The sky was just starting to lighten to gray as he pulled up in front of Your Turn Next. The café was really starting to take shape, he reflected, which was a good thing, considering it was meant to open next week and there was still a ton of stuff to do. Maggie had ordered a sign, based on Ben’s logo, but it hadn’t been delivered yet. Once it was up, Zach thought, maybe it would start to feel more real.
As it was, today’s job was to finish the built-in bookshelves, something he really was enjoying. Maybe he’d ask Ben to help him; he didn’t want him upstairs on his own all day, staring at a computer for hours on end. In truth, Zach thought Ben would benefit from going to the local high school. It was obvious to him that he was lonely, and playing RainQuest night after night was not the same thing as a social life. He hadn’t said anything about it to either Ben or Maggie, though, because it didn’t feel like his place, and Maggie, he’d already sensed, could be pretty touchy when it came to her son.
Zach let himself into the café, breathing in the scents of cut wood and fresh paint. It really was looking good—his soon-to-be-finished bookshelves lined both walls from floor to ceiling, and in the corner by the window, a leather loveseat and armchair made an L-shape around a coffee table. A three-seater took up the main part of the café floor, with a long, low table in front, and then two armchairs with a little table in between on the other side.
Maggie had taken his advice about the smaller tables, and there were three high tables for two with barstools in the back, by the kitchen area. The chalkboard menu was also up, above the counter, with a glass display case beneath, for the baked goods they were hoping to offer eventually, sourced from The Rolling Pin, although Maggie hoped to offer some of their own food items as soon as they got the proper food certification. Once the shelves were finished and the boardgames were in, it was going to look really good, Zach thought with a flush of pride that he tried to temper. He’d been part of this, yes, but it was Maggie’s project, Maggie and Ben’s. Maybe he needed to remember that a little more.
He headed upstairs, knocking once on the door before he poked his head in. “Hello? Ben?”
There was no response, and Zach felt a tiny flicker of fear. It was only eight fifteen, but he’d told Maggie he would be here sooner. What if something happened on his watch because he hadn’t shown up on time?
“Ben?” he called again and stepped into the living area. A small gust of relief escaped him when he saw the teenager in front of the desktop in the kitchen. “Hey,” he called, and Ben stiffened, then quickly clicked off whatever he’d been looking at.
Uh-oh. Zach had been a teenaged boy once. Quickly clicking off anything was usually a sign someone was up to no good.
“That didn’t look like schoolwork,” he remarked lightly as he came into the kitchen. “Have you had breakfast?”
Ben shook his head, his gaze on the floor, his hands lost in the ragged sleeves of his sweatshirt. He still hadn’t said so much as a word, Zach realized as he came to stand in front of him.
“Is everything okay?” he asked gently. Still no response. “Ben?”
“Yeah. Fine,” he mumbled, his voice so low Zach struggled to hear him.
It clearlywasn’tfine, but Zach wasn’t sure what to do to get him to open up. He decided for laidback honesty, and cocking his head toward the computer, he asked, “Something going down on RQ?”
“No,” Ben replied, his chin tucked toward his chest.
Zach had already figured it wasn’t that. “Something else, then? Because, man, you’re looking like your dog died and I know you don’t have a dog, so… nothing happened to your future cat, did it?”
“We haven’t even picked out one yet,” Ben replied. He folded his arms, hugging them around his middle.
