Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138642 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 693(@200wpm)___ 555(@250wpm)___ 462(@300wpm)
“He’s a creep,” I snap without thinking. “Sorry. But I don’t get what Ros sees in him. He’s just weird, and she acts so different when she’s around him. I barely recognize my sister...”
“Young girls do get starstruck sometimes,” Janelle whispers. “But I hope you won’t think I’m too forward in saying I don’t like it, either. The whirlwind of it bothers me, yes. It’s not hard to see poor Ros is running away from one bad thing into another. There are far healthier ways to manage your emotions.”
“I tried talking to her.” I sigh. “We just wound up yelling at each other in Mom’s shop before Aleksander barged in. He was all over her, right in front of me.”
Janelle wrinkles her nose.
“That boy never did have manners. I think he’s the worst one of the bunch, frankly, always too focused on preening over himself.” Her upper lip curls. “I hope she doesn’t go through with it. There are things she doesn’t know.”
I frown. “Things like...?”
“Well, nothing certain. You can take this with a grain of salt and it’s just an old woman’s speculation, but this old woman has seen a lot.” Janelle watches me knowingly over the rim of her mug. “Forgive me, but I remember a time when your mother was just as bewitched by the Arrendell glamour. Always up at that house—until one day she wasn’t.”
My breath catches.
“What? Mom? But... but she practically avoided them when I was growing up. We never—I never knew she had anything to do with the Arrendells.”
Janelle looks down.
“Yes, yes, certain people do keep their business as private as possible and that’s their right.” She rubs the side of her nose with one finger. “Oh, I wish I could tell you more, dearie. But it’s been some time, and back then we didn’t have smartphones documenting everything. Much easier to be secretive in those days, too. Still, I don’t want to worry you with bad rumors and old, half-faded memories.”
“No, no, that’s... fine. I appreciate you telling me.”
It’s not fine.
I feel like I’m tied to a windmill.
What the hell did the Arrendells ever have to do with my mother?
And does it connect to Ros and Aleksander, and this bizarro engagement that’s looking more and more sus by the day?
I wish Mom was conscious enough to ask.
But it’s possible Ros knows something.
And I know one thing for certain.
Whenever I corner my sister again, next time I’m holding my ground.
I’m not letting Ros go without some real answers.
Janelle and I finish our coffees over more idle conversation before she gets dragged off by Linda Manson from the Ladies’ Aid—which I can’t believe is still a thing.
Then again, certain parts of Redhaven feel like they never left the Civil War era.
With Janelle gone, I head back home to Grant’s to putter around and unload my groceries.
I know he didn’t bring me here to play housekeeper or cook, but I need to keep my hands busy so my mind doesn’t implode.
I go to work, tidying the house up from top to bottom before tucking myself into the kitchen to prep dinner.
I’ve just gotten two meatloaves together—one normal for me and Nell, the other burning hot with chili, garlic, and hot sauce for Grant—and put them in the oven when the front door opens.
Little Nell’s happy laughter announces their return.
I wipe my hands on a dish towel and lean around the kitchen door, watching as Grant squeezes through the front door with Nell perched on his shoulders, swinging her arms everywhere.
It’s a masterpiece of strategic movement, him walking with his legs half-bent and twisting every which way. I’d say she’s getting too big to carry around, but Grant could give me a five-hour piggyback ride without breaking a sweat.
It also looks like something he’s done enough that it’s almost second nature. I can’t help smiling as I step closer.
“Welcome home,” I say.
Grant lifts his head, looking at me with a slow smile that just makes my insides twist.
Neither of us get to say another word to each other, though.
Because with a joyous shriek of “Miss Philia!” Nell launches herself from Grant’s shoulders and throws herself at me, her backpack trailing behind her like a parachuter’s kit.
“Nell!” I dart forward to put myself between her and the floor—just in time to catch an armful of hyperactive kid. “Oof.”
She’s an armful.
I don’t know how I don’t go down ass over elbows, but I catch her and hug her against my chest. She latches on tight, sealing both arms around my neck.
“Hi,” she chirps with a knowing giggle that says she knows exactly what she did.
“Hi, yourself.” I sigh, unable to help smiling. “Let’s not hit the floor face-first today, okay?”
“Oh, I knew you’d catch me,” she announces confidently.
“You have more faith in my reflexes than I do, kiddo.” I tap her nose. “C’mon. I just put meatloaf in the oven. If you help fix the potatoes, I’ll help you with homework later.”