Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121020 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
And he always pulls out the tin can with his money and pays, right down to the penny.
Roy toils away quietly while I mill around the cabin, testing the new stainless steel appliances and a few kitchen cabinet doors, stealing a peek upstairs at the cozy bedrooms—each with high-quality, Roy-built beds and dressers—until the familiar buzz of the ATV approaches.
Jonah is in the kitchen when I reach the landing. “From Calla.” He holds up a quart-size basket of strawberries. “We’ve got them coming out our ass.” There’s another large basket on the table, next to a muffin, I assume for Roy, who is preoccupied with scowling at the level Jonah brought.
“No good?” Jonah asks.
“Why do you think every shelf in that house of yours was lopsided when you moved in?”
“’Cause Phil was always drunk?” Jonah answers glibly as he accepts the tool back. “Lemme run and grab a new one. You comin’, Marie?”
“Where? To the hardware store?”
“Unless you want to hang out here with Chuckles?”
I check my watch. I don’t have to be at the clinic until this afternoon.
He jerks his head toward the door. “Come on, Lehr. Let’s go for a ride.”
“Don’t cheap out on the level, neither!” Roy barks after him.
* * *
“I haven’t done this in a while.”
“What? Bought a tool?” Jonah throws his truck into gear and pulls out of the hardware parking lot.
“Nothing. I haven’t done nothing in a while.” I stare out the window. It’s one of those in-between days—overcast, but not raining, dull and gray, but with a warm breeze to trick you into thinking it’s nicer than it is. At least it’ll help dry up some of the rain from the past few days.
“What’s botherin’ you, Lehr?” Jonah steals a glance my way. “You seem down. Not yourself.”
He always has been able to read me. I shrug. “Just stuff with work and home.”
“Okay?” he prompts, and I know it’s a push to elaborate.
“Harry Hatchett ‘fired’ me because I took on his neighbor’s kennel, and they don’t get along.” I air-quote the word fired.
Jonah scowls. “He can’t fucking fire you! You’re not his damn employee!”
I smile at Jonah’s outburst. I can always count on him to rage on my behalf. “That’s what I said. Sort of.”
“Well, fuck him. That arrogant little shit. Whatever. So you’re trading one kennel for another. Don’t give that idiot another second’s thought.”
“Tyler’s is a lot smaller, though.” And I’ve crunched the numbers. Without having a baseline for him, it’s hard to calculate exactly how much I’m going to lose, but no doubt, it’ll hurt.
“Still, you’ll be fine. It’s not like your parents can’t cut you some slack on rent if it takes a couple months to catch up.”
My laugh is awkward. “Right. About that.” I fill him in on the talk around my parents cashing in the property.
“Everything? The clinic and all?”
“That was the plan, so they can move in with Liz and travel, but now with my sisters being pregnant—”
“Whoa. Wait a minute.” Jonah holds up a hand. “Sisters?”
“Did I forget to mention that? They’re pregnant. Both of them. The one who just had a baby and the one whose husband got snipped five years ago.”
He snorts. “What’re the odds of that happening?”
“Higher than you’d think, actually. Anyway, Vicki and Oliver are moving in with my parents to save money and so Vicki can finish her hours for her certification, which is a smart plan. Liz is beyond livid.” She didn’t even come to last Sunday’s family dinner. She claimed morning sickness, but everyone knows she’s pissed. “She was banking on her surprise pregnancy guaranteeing her my mom as a live-in nanny, but my mom will be tied up for the foreseeable future with two other kids.”
It took an hour of frank conversation with Vicki to help her make the smart decision, but she’s under the delusion that this’ll only be for a few months, that they’ll be in an apartment before the new baby’s born. I’d bet money that a few months turns into a few years once she starts leaning on my mother for childcare that would otherwise be impossible to afford.
Liz has figured this out, too, and isn’t happy about it. But Liz can afford a sitter for her Friday wine nights with her friends. She just has to clear the expenditure with her prudent husband.
Jonah shakes his head. “Too much family drama.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for my sisters.” More so Vicki than Liz, if I’m being honest, because I like her more and because, selfishly, her mistake is buying me some stability. “And I can’t blame my parents if and when they do decide to sell. It’s their money and their life, but it kind of feels like I’m in a holding pattern now, until mine is blown up.” I’ll lose my clinic and my home. I’ll have to start over.