Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“So …” He reaches for the folder tucked under his arm, stealing a covert gaze over my shoulder. “What’s my move here? Do I just walk up to her?”
“Empty-handed? No.” I emphasize that with a headshake.
“Good thing I brought this, then.” He holds up a small white paper bag with a grin.
“Okay, follow me. And remember, this was not my idea and I have no part in it.” I lead Garrett to Shirley’s table.
“Hello again,” he greets her cordially.
She pauses in her game and examines him up and down, stalling on the folder under his arm and the small bag in his hand. “Are we playing or not tonight, Justine?” Irritation laces her voice. She hasn’t taken that tone with me since the first day we met.
A rash of anxious butterflies stirs in my stomach. This does not bode well for me. “Sure. We can play.” I drag a chair out.
“Do you mind if I sit?” Garrett asks.
“Something tells me you’re going to, anyway,” she mutters.
He sheds his jacket, throwing it over the back of a chair, sending a faint waft of his cologne toward me. I inhale.
And, I swear, Shirley’s sharp eyes zero in on my flaring nostrils.
Garrett takes a seat and sets the bag beside her. “It won’t meet Harper’s guidelines.”
She watches it a moment as if expecting lizards to crawl out, before cracking it open. “Pistachio. However did you guess?” The sharp glare she throws over her glasses is not aimed at him but at me.
This common room suddenly feels too hot.
“I’d love your opinion on something, if you don’t mind.” Garrett moves quickly, opening his folder and pushing it in front of her. “This is a preliminary design for the town park at the end of the block that we were talking about. I had my people address all the issues you’ve mentioned, as well as incorporate a few new features. I wanted to know what you thought, if you had suggestions.”
She adjusts her glasses and peers down at the colorful schematic. “Water park.” She harrumphs.
“They’re very popular for hot days. And the playground is twice the size.”
“Too many children for my liking. All that noise.”
He smothers a threatening smile. “Which is why we added this seating area on the other end.” He drags his finger across the page. “Way over here. Next to a garden that the town would maintain in their budget. We also thought it’d be great to incorporate a few of the more popular ideas from other parks, like community vegetable plots and a trash can art program where resident artists are tasked with creating art pieces. You might like that, seeing as you’re a supporter of the arts.”
“Whitman Park,” she reads the name out loud.
“After Polson Falls’ prized poet. He’s important to you, right?”
“He was a drunk. He doesn’t deserve a school and a park.”
Garrett falters. “Well … we could go with Justine’s suggestion and honor the Stavro brothers instead?”
Shirley grimaces. “The booze smugglers?”
“I did not suggest that. I didn’t suggest anything.” I kick his shin under the table.
Silence drags on at the table, until finally, she taps the page with her manicured fingers. “What do you think about these plans, Justine?”
“Uh …” I can’t get a read on her mood, but that feels like a trick question. “This is the first time I’m seeing this. I have no thoughts.”
“No thoughts at all.” She sounds disappointed.
I struggle not to squirm in my chair. “I think you should tell HG how to spend their money. You’ll get what you want, and it’s good for the community.”
“Is that so?” Her eyes thin on me, and I’m not sure if that was the right answer.
“Nancy has diarrhea,” I blurt.
“That’s wonderful news,” she deadpans.
“It is, because it means I’m calling bingo tonight. So I need to go and prepare.” I slide out of my chair.
“Prepare?” Her face pinches. “For what?”
“Prepare myself mentally.” I dart away, abandoning Garrett to her wrath.
“Let’s procreate, seventy-eight!” I bellow, and the room erupts in chatter and laughter as several people dab their cards and others throw jabs at nearby friends.
“Did she say eighty-eight?” Mimi calls out over the buzz, searching for someone to confirm the number. It’s far livelier in here tonight than usual.
From their little corner table, Ned points out the number on Vicki’s card for her. They’ve been in that spot all night, talking and laughing nonstop.
It makes me smile, seeing him this happy.
That takes some of the edge off given Shirley is angry with me. She tolerated Garrett until bingo started, and then got up from the table and walked out. On which note—sour or slightly less so—they ended things, I can’t say, but she refused to so much as look at me on her way past.
She feels like I’ve betrayed her, and that has left my insides twisted in a knot I’m doing my best to ignore.