Page 69 of Small Town Frenzy
“How so?”
I take my glass and sit at the table. “I can’t live here forever, Dad. This is your home.”
Setting down the pencil in his hand on the bent-covered book, he says, “It’s yours as well, son.”
“I know, but you also know what I mean. The other house is . . . it’s an opportunity for me to have something here in the Pass that’s solely my own.” I drink some juice and watch for his reaction.
He pushes the book away and angles toward me, giving me his full attention. “It’s quite the gift, Griffin?—”
“It is.”
“But your mom would say it’s a gift putting you on the road you’re meant to be on.”
She’s not wrong. A lot of things brought me back to my hometown, but there are even more keeping me here. “Might as well get some use out of it.”
“And keep you busy. A man needs to be busy either in mind, spirit, or physically. All three are best, but one or two keep you moving forward in life.” He stands to set his plate in the sink. “Sounds like you have a reason to stay.”
Jacob, Cricket, the house. . . all good reasons.“If I didn’t before, I do now.”
CHAPTER 29
Cricket
I keep checkingon Jacob in my rearview mirror. He’s content staring out the window, counting cows, horses, and even the odd alpaca he spots across the farmlands as I drive us from one county over to the next.
“Pizza,” he says, pointing at the pizzeria in downtown Peachtree Pass.
I see the pizza artwork on the window and smile, thinking about how everything changed after the game that night. A few beers, a couple of slices, and Griffin Greene make for a good time. I slow down on Main Street to look at the progress being made. A new Tex-Mex restaurant sign is being hung at the top of the end space. A cowboy hat sign dangles under the awning three spaces down from that one. But it’s one of the spaces across the street with nothing more than the steel framework that has me pulling off to the side.
“Mommy.”
I look back between the seats to see Jacob raising his arms toward me and kicking his feet. “I’m only stopping fora minute, sweetie.” I roll the windows down because he likes to wave his hand out the opening. That might give me a minute or two to entertain the vision I just had.
Peering through the windshield at the structure, it’s not large, but it’s a nice size, and the clearing next to it could add more space. What am I doing? This will never get approved. I’m lucky my dad agreed to the charity game because raising money for other people initially left a bad taste in his mouth. It only got green-lit after a lengthy argument and a ten-minute PowerPoint presentation on how it would benefit the business.
“Hi there.” A man’s voice draws me to look through the open driver’s side window. He tilts his head as if he’s trying to get a good look at me from under the bill of his St. Louis Cardinals cap. Small world, or maybe he’s only someone who supports the hometown hero? I’m thinking there are many coincidences this side of Dover County. “How’s it going?” He stops just a few feet back, leaving plenty of space between us.
“I’m good. You?”
He chuckles. “I’m great. Stopping by to see the progress?”
“Yeah. It’s been a while since I’ve been out here during the daylight to see all that’s going on. Looks great.”
“Thanks.” He glances at the building in front of me that appears to eventually be two commercial spaces in total. When he turns back, the sun is in his eyes, highlighting shocking blues that remind me so much of Griffin’s. I’m not catching exact features, but they share some similarities. This guy’s size for one. The color of his hair peeking out under the ball cap. His smile has a charm about it, and his demeanor is easygoing. The former is a dead giveaway, yet the latter is not like Griffin at all. I inwardly laugh. Thoughhe’s gotten more laid-back with each passing day, and he relaxes the more time we spend together. Last night reminded me of that guy I met in Jaco Beach.
I think it’s safe to assume this guy and Griffin are related. Both are tall, affable when they want to be. Handsome, but in their own ways.
He comes closer with his hand held out. “I’m Baylor Greene. I own these properties. You looking for a space to rent?”
My smile is quicker than the question leaving his mouth when I hear his last name. “Hi, Baylor.” Reaching through the window, I shake his hand. “I’m Cricket.” Probably best if I leave my last name out of this. “I wasn’t, but when I saw it, I started getting ideas.”
“Hi,” Jacob says, his voice so sweet and happy. It’s cute that he’s such a people person.
Hearing my son, Baylor peers from beside the car into the back seat. “Hi.” He waves. Glancing back at me, he says, “Cute kid. How old is he?”
“Three, but he turns four in two weeks.”
“That’s a fun age. My niece Daisy is three.” Sort of laughing to himself, he reveals more curiosity. “They could be twins.”
