“Great, okay, yes.” Libby patted the steering wheel. Being on the back foot wasn’t her standard position.
Just then, the new building at the end of the street caught J.J.’s eye.
“That’s nuts! The grocery store looks amazing.”
“Yeah, that’s been one of the biggest things that has changed around here.”
“Is it open?”
“Actually, grand opening this weekend, soft-open now.”
“Did the Barons put this together? I always thought only Ned was interested in the store.”
“Yeah, he was, rest his soul, and his family wasn’t. They cashed out to, uh, believe it or not, Stone Stirling.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I nearly punched him in the face when I heard.”
“I would have done the same.”
“Yeah, he brought and did some dealing with the Freshy Market people. It’s one of the most gorgeous grocery stores you’ve ever seen.”
“But it’s Stone Stirling. He’s worming his way in! We won, he can’t do this! How in the world…?”
“Look, the guy isn’t all bad.”
J.J. raised her eyebrows. “Who am I talking to? What have you done with the real Libby?”
“No, no, it’s taken time, but he’s done everything we asked for in terms of this location. He hasn’t overstepped or asked to take over the town or tear it down. This time, it looks like he just wants to help.”
“Yeah, I’m not buying it.”
J.J. wanted to shake Libby.How can she, or anyone, trust Stone Stirling after he tried to wipe Irish Hills off the map?
“Even Aunt Emma seems to like him, and she’s a tough sell.”
J.J. shook her head. This wasn’t her problem. This wasn’t her circus or her monkeys anymore. Well, D.J. was her monkey; her sloppy, hard-drinking monkey. She’d focus on that.
* * *
They finished the mini tour of Irish Hills and they pulled into J.J.’s neighborhood a block off of Green Street. She grew up here. It was the Townie section of Irish Hills. The big money and the vacation crowd didn’t hang out here back then. It was up to J.J. to find kids to play with, and she did. She’d found her Sandbar Sisters.
The neighborhood was going through a change. Again, she thought of Dean. He’d turned their old ranch house into a great place to live. Their work had upped the property values on the block, and now it is a charming street with one tidy ranch after another. This was a cute place for young families or even retired couples. Ranch homes went out of style, but Dean always said they were the perfect floor plan.
“You watch," he’d say, “you get over fifty, you want a main floor, everything. You have little rugrats, you want bedrooms close by and a big basement. The ranch is an underappreciated situation, mark my words.”
He was right.
This was it. This was why she was sick to her stomach with worry. She’d run away from this house in the wake of Dean’s death. And now they were pulling into the driveway. She was going to have to deal with it. The real estate sign in the yard proclaimed the house sale was pending.
There was a lockbox on the door.
“Do you want to do this on your own?”
“Actually, no. Do you mind?”
“You don’t even need to ask.”
