Page 14 of Making New Plans

“Oh, thank goodness!” she cried and dashed toward the kitchen.

Bemused, I followed her.

Through the swinging doors, I saw two people I recognized and one I didn’t. George and Mable were huddled around a tall, broad-shouldered man tinkering with the large coffee machine.

Chloe ran up to the man and peppered him with questions I didn’t hear because Mable noticed me and clasped her hands under her wobbling chins.

“Oh, Hunter! It’s so good to see you again. I mean, I saw you through the window when you came in yesterday. But I didn’t want to get in the middle of anything. Besides, I knew…well, never mind. I’m so glad you’re here. How have you been since the funeral? Going on a month now, right?”

She may as well have clubbed me with one of the large steel pots sitting on the counter.

My brain short-circuited trying to find an appropriate response, so it settled on a default. “I’m fine.”

Her eyes widened, and Chloe shot me a look over her shoulder. I lifted an unapologetic eyebrow. I refused to discuss my dad’s death or his funeral or how it made me feel. It was done. Over. Time to move on.

Mable looked like she wanted to say something else. Probably to ask me a dozen more questions so she’d have new fodder for her gossip circle in town, but thankfully, my patented glare kept her silent.

“Hell, yeah! Fixed!” The unidentified man’s shout broke the awkward silence.

“Language!” Mable admonished.

The man flashed a dimpled smile at Chloe. “It was a faulty wire in the back. See here?”

Chloe waved off his explanation. “Don’t care as long as it’s fixed. Can I use it now?”

“Sure. Let me just move it back into place.”

After he’d hefted it back against the wall and Chloe, armed with the empty coffee pot, dove for the power button, the guy finally turned around and spotted me. His dark eyebrows drew down over darker eyes as his pleasant demeanor vanished.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

Clearly, he hadn’t heard a word Mable had said. “Hunter Erickson. And you are?”

“Carter.”

“Fixer of coffee machines?” I quipped.

His lips pulled back in a smirk. At least I thought they did. His thick beard and mustache had nearly grown over his mouth. “That’s me.”

Wearing a red flannel, black Dickies, and dirty boots, he looked like Paul Bunyan with a bad temper. Either he didn’t know who I was or didn’t care—my money was on both—because he turned back to Chloe.

“Your mom told me to remind you about some committee meeting tonight and dinner on Sunday at six.”

Pulling a coffee mug out of one of the cabinets, Chloe flinched. “You saw my mom?”

“Yeah.” Carter inserted each of his tools into its appropriate slot in his toolbox. “I fixed their router earlier this morning. I mentioned I was coming over here next.”

“And apparently I needed more reminders,” Chloe muttered under her breath.

I could personally attest that she didn’t, having seen her planner.

Carter started to leave, but she caught his arm, her eyes suddenly wide with panic. “Wait! Did she say which committee meeting? I just remembered there are two tonight. The Event Planning one and Emergency Preparation one. She’s on both.”

Carter shrugged. “Sorry, Chloe. You know I mostly tune out what she says. It’s self-preservation. Although, her comment about my ‘unkempt appearance’ did slip past my filter. Think I should skip showering next time I’m called over there?”

Chloe didn’t crack a smile while Carter guffawed at his joke and George and Mable hid smiles behind gloved hands. I simply watched Chloe, trying to read her face for all the answers I didn’t want to ask for.

Why did she care so much about the committees? Did she have to be on the ones her mother was? I vaguely remembered her parents were pretty important in town, but the details escaped me. Her mother appeared to be the only person to truly wipe the smile off Chloe’s face. Something that engendered an instant yet illogical dislike of the woman in my gut.

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