Having the time and freedom to do her own thing was good for her.
“I like what we’ve got,” she said. “I enjoy the time we have together, but if we spent more during the week we’d have even less to talk about on the weekends.”
“There you go,” he said.
She slapped his thigh, her hand stinging after. “You’re a joke a minute. I’m not sure how everyone around you can stand it.”
They pulled into her parents’ driveway ten minutes later.
“This is where you lived when you moved as a kid?”
“Yep. It’s a nice house. Too far away from Gale to really hang out much back then. I missed going to the orchards, but you were gone by then.”
“No one around to catch you or kill bugs?”
“Blaze did it a few times,” she said.
“That’s news to me.”
“You’re not jealous of your brother, are you?”
“Nope.”
They parked and got out. Her mother had the front door open before they made it up the stairs.
“Meredith, I’m glad you could come. Clay, it’s good to see you again, though I doubt you remember me.”
“I remember,” he said. “It was a long time ago.”
He shook hands with her mother. Thankfully, Meredith reminded him of her parents’ names. Raina and Christian.
They walked in the house, him handing over some cider that Meredith told him her parents liked.
“Thanks,” her mother said. “These are our two favorites. Christian is in the back. He’s got a roast on the grill. He’ll grill into the winter if I let him.”
“You normally do,” Meredith said.
They walked through her parents’ living room, into the kitchen, then the sunroom where they’d relax. Her father was on the deck next to the grill, saw them, waved and came in.
“It’s nice to see you again, Clay. I hear you’ve had your hands full with my daughter’s antics.”
She sighed. “That’s not nice, Dad. It was months ago what I did to Fredrick.”
“It’s not all her fault,” Clay said. “My mother said she would have done much worse.”
“So did my wife,” her father said. “I’m more ticked off that Meredith didn’t share any of those details with us. If I ask you to come talk to me alone, she’s only going to get annoyed.”
“That’s right, I will. I’m not a child. You can talk in front of me,” she said, crossing her arms.
“Fine,” her father said. “Be honest. Do you think Fredrick is the one who threw the rock through the window?”
“No,” Clay said. “He was ruled out. Along with Lana Ventura.”
“Then you have no idea who is doing anything?”
“It’s just a rock that we don’t know about,” she said.
“And your car.”
