Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 41373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41373 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 207(@200wpm)___ 165(@250wpm)___ 138(@300wpm)
I was deeply grateful to have this as a landing place, even if it was in Tennessee.
And even if my own career was a big, fat question mark now.
“Honey, did you see the Davesons removed their beautiful oak tree from their side yard?” my grandmother said to my grandfather, and as we ate the rest of our dinner, this topic took the main stage. I was amazed at how much neighborhood gossip they had to talk about, most of which was about landscaping or wayward raccoons.
About an hour later, I excused myself. Shane was set to arrive soon to put the finishing touches on our video and finally send it out, and the idea of hanging out with someone my age sounded like heaven on Earth right now. I said goodnight, and already my grandparents were on their way to the den, where they’d nod off reading the newspaper and watching old movies.
I headed outside.
The air was brisk and refreshing, and the scent of someone’s charcoal grill floated through the air. The sun had just set, and dusky pink light still filtered through the trees out back.
The guest house was my temporary home on the property. I made my way out into the sprawling backyard, taking the path toward the guest house. As I walked under the canopy of trees, I saw a glimmer of headlights from the front driveway of the house.
I headed out front and met Shane getting out of his car, his eyes wide as he stared at my grandparents’ home.
“Whoa,” he said as I approached. “This isn’t a house. It’s a freakin’ mansion.”
I couldn’t exactly disagree with him. It had a curved driveway, plenty of stone, a big, rolling grassy lawn, and dramatic arched double doors at the front of the house. I’d been accustomed to wealth my whole life, but it was more noticeable to me now after I learned that most of my parents’ money had been as dirty as could be.
“Glad you made it. Here, come on back. I’m in the guest house.”
I noticed Shane had a pink box in his hand as we walked. I knew he wouldn’t have let me get away with buying him those drink glasses without bringing over something for me. I didn’t know if everyone in Tennessee was so kind and generous or if Shane really was just special.
“What did your grandparents do for work?” Shane asked.
“My grandfather ran a company that provided printers and copiers to big corporations, right through the boom from the sixties onward,” I said. “Then he just invested well, for years and years.”
At least his money wasn’t dirty. For once, it felt nice to be able to talk to Shane about my life in a straightforward way.
“Printers and copiers. Who would have thought,” Shane mused as he followed me. “Are your grandparents going to want to meet me or anything?”
I gave him a wry smile. “They’re not exactly like your family, I don’t think,” I said. “They’re already watching TV on the back end of the house, and even if they saw you, they’d probably be uninterested in my friends. They’re more into deep conversations about how the neighbors trim their hedges. That sort of thing.”
“I see,” he said, still gawking at the home.
Shane did look out of place here, in a way that I kind of loved. He was wearing a simple plaid long-sleeve and jeans that fit him well, and he looked like he'd just stumbled off a college campus even though he was 26.
As usual, his cheeks were a little pink as we walked through the chilly air on the path back to my guest house.
He was like a breath of fresh air. I knew I’d been looking forward to his arrival, but I was shocked at how much better I already felt having him here.
“This place is only about a seven minute drive from me, but I’ve never been in this neighborhood,” Shane said as we walked under the trees in the backyard. “You know what my sister and I used to call this area as kids? Money Bucks Lane.”
I snorted.
“Yeah,” I told him. “According to my grandparents, most of the houses here don’t belong to regular Bestens townsfolk and farmers. A lot of these are second homes for rich people who want a place in the countryside.”
“Did you come here a lot as a kid?” Shane asked.
Warning signs prickled inside me. Don’t talk too much about anything from the past.
“Ah, no,” I said, looking down at the ground as my shoes crunched on leaves along the path. “I never spent much time here until now.”
“Doesn’t seem like your grandparents are the type for Christmas decorations in November,” Shane said.
I cut him a glance. “Oh, Shane, don’t you worry. Check this out.”
We approached the guest house and I reached down to the outdoor power outlet near the front door. I flipped a switch and the lights I’d hung earlier this week all came on.