“Trust me, I still have hassles,” he confirms with a wry smile playing on his lips. “But I still say I married the best girl intown.” Teresa and Rich have been together since they graduated from college several years ago. She’s definitely one of the good ones, and they have it together.
I’ve had two serious relationships over the course of my thirty years. But nothing for a long time. The last relationship I had with Hilary ended in disaster; on her part, and my ex-best friend. I don’t talk about that. I’m still angry. We were together for four years and engaged for two, but apparently that means nothing these days. You could say I’m still bitter.
I dedicated myself to the farm after we broke up, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Though I can’t say I’ve been swimming in calm waters this entire time, rather, treading water and trying to keep my head afloat.
The increase in our farm sales meant me plunging in and making myself available wherever and whenever I was needed, leaving little time for anything else. Work was a good thing because I needed the distraction. Even now, I know my parents are worried I’m doing too much, but I come from a long line of workaholics, and it’s helped me get used to life on my own again. I prefer it. Women are complicated.
I wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it’s also lonely. The constant reminder when I get home after a long day’s work is the quietness of my cabin, nestled below the mountain on the vast property. My house backs onto the woods, and the Alpine Falls River flows almost to my very doorstep. It’s far enough away from the Lodge and the farm that I get peace and quiet.
“True,” I agree about Teresa, because for as long as I’ve known them, which is a long time, they’ve been very happy. “But back to Jo-Beth for a second.” I raise a brow at George. “If you think she’s such a great match, why haven’t you asked her out?”
George chuckles, chugging down the last of his coffee, then shakes his head and sobers. “Nope. She’s more like a sister tome, and being the sheriff of this town, I can’t go around breaking hearts. It’s a bad look.”
Rich chuckles. “He’s got a point. Men in uniform and all that.”
“Hey, I wear a uniform.” I motion to my flannel with the Lawless family emblem.
Rich screws up his nose. “Not the same thing.”
George pats me on the back. “Save it, big boy, we both know you’re worried because you have to find a staff member before the end of the week, you’re deflecting.”
“I’m not deflecting,” I defend. “It’s a stressful time of year. People are needy.”
“You knew the game when you got into it,” Rich reminds me. “Anyway, isn’t your sister interviewing?”
“Good news travels fast,” I mutter.
“Yeah, you should’ve seen her earlier,” George laughs. “She’ll hire a ball buster just to spite Z here.”
“Don’t remind me. I know she means well, but her idea and my idea of work ethic are two completely different things,” I say. “I need someone who can work hard and be nice to the customers.”
“Because you can’t?” Rich chuckles.
I flip him the bird. “You sayin’ I don’t work hard?”
“I think he means the ‘be nice to the customers’ part.” George gives me a knowing look. “You’re a self declared grump, bud.”
I frown. “Funny, I don’t ever remember declaring that to anybody.”
Both of them are well aware of my old drinking habits after Hilary and I were through. I’d get drunk every weekend until I passed out, somehow I thought that numbed the pain. I can’t say I’m proud of it, and my parents worried for a while, but that was a long time ago. I don’t do that now.
If it weren’t for my friends, I never would have made it.
“Oh, yoo-hoo boys!” The unforgettable, shrill coo sound of Jo-Beth’s chirpy voice rings through the diner. “How are y’all doing?”
My mom would say that kind of enthusiasm is better than being miserable, to which I’d usually offer an exaggerated eye roll.
“Great!” George smiles. “Looks like we’re in for some weather this weekend with these clouds rolling in.”
We’ve had some snow since late October, but nothing that requires my snowmobile yet. Much to my disappointment.
“I heard, and in celebration of the first real snowfall, I’m going to be making snowballs this year.”
My frown deepens. “I’m not sure there’s enough snow for that right now, JB.”
She laughs, shaking her head like I’m dumb. “The coconut covered snowball cakes I make for Butterfingers, silly.” She rolls her eyes. Butterfingers is the bakery in town that sells everything from fresh bread to sticky sweet pastries, desserts, and, apparently, snowballs now, too.
“Sounds delicious,” George says, always one to try anything new from Butterfingers. “Count me in.”
