Page 23 of Miss Humbug
“Hey, that’s great. You’re still, uh, okay, considering…” Man, I was bad at this.
“Yeah. I’m good. Being here threw me for a loop, but I have good memories of this place. They’re just sort of scattered. I mostly remember my therapist in Crystal Cove, the one I saw through high school.” She cast me a curious look. “Did I ever mention coming here when we were younger? I think I called it play group.”
It came back to me. “Yeah. You did call it that. I remember feeling jealous you had some special group to play games with. Didn’t I ask to go with you?”
“I don’t remember. I probably would have let you. Maybe Grans stepped in. Even if she had, she wouldn’t have wanted to call attention to it.” A cloudy look crossed her features. “Not that it mattered. Everyone knew.”
Everyone knew about the tragedy, but they didn’t need to know all the family’s business. I sure hadn’t. Then again, I’d been a kid. All I’d cared about was running around with the Hollys, playing video games, and tearing across country roads on our bikes. The good stuff.
“You told your family yet about your job?” I asked.
She looked past me. “It’s cold out here. Let me in the truck.”
Okay, moving on. I unlocked the truck and she hopped inside.
She burrowed into her coat. “I told Ashe I’m working remotely. I don’t know why it’s so hard to admit to them I failed.”
I hit High on the heat to warm her up. “You didn’t fail. Whoever let you go is an idiot.”
“Thanks, but I still failed. I couldn’t keep a job despite the overtime I’d invested. Despite my education. I guess I wasn’t worth keeping.” She laughed, cold and flippant.
You’re absolutely worth keeping. I couldn’t say it out loud without coming off, I don’t know, too into her. Screw it, it was true. “You’re worth it,” I stammered.
She stopped breathing. Or maybe I did. The atmosphere in the truck cab shifted like the air pressure before a storm. Thick, heavy, different.
She adjusted in her seat. “Regardless, I’m even more determined to win the house. Turns out, my roommate got engaged and plans to end our lease, so I’ll also be out of a place to live.”
Whoa. Well, that was big. No job, no place to live. So, she’d be coming back here, right? Was it too much to hope she’d move home?
Was it even fair that I wanted her to? Purely selfish on my part. If she moved back to Crystal Cove then, well, maybe this whole dating thing wouldn’t be for pretend.
My heart raced. No, I couldn’t get ahead of myself. Even if Marlowe came back, won the house, and our tree farm expanded, it didn’t mean anything would change with us. Only that we’d potentially be neighbors again, with a few acres and a farm of growing trees separating us.
“In case you hadn’t guessed,” she went on, “I haven’t told my family about the apartment lease ending.”
If she told them about the job and the apartment, wouldn’t her quest to inherit the house be equally as valid as us pretending to date?
I suspected she didn’t see it that way. Marlowe had a whole different way of looking at life I didn’t fully understand.
I was a simple guy. I liked simple.
And I liked our pretend dating arrangement. It meant more time with Marlowe to catch up on the years we’d missed. If that was how she wanted to play this, I’d play too.
I lowered the heat to a non-blasting level and tapped on the radio. A bubbly song about tinsel on a tree blared and I hit the off button. The mood didn’t feel right.
As I drove, Marlowe watched the scenery out the window.
A feeling hit, a familiar one I hadn’t experienced in a long time. You’d think we’d feel closer, given we were supposed to be dating. But I couldn’t escape the sense I might lose Marlowe all over again.
Chapter 8
Marlowe
We had a week before the next judged holiday activity—the bake sale. I had work to do. Item number one: learn to bake.
Yikes.
Thankfully, I could escape that unwelcome task and prepare my volunteer day report instead. The family would present Friday after dinner at the house, hosted by Grans, with all the judges present.
