Zane let out a breath. He’d heard that a time or two before. “I feel like I need to lie low for a bit. Did I miss the sermon of the century?” He snorted a laugh but then shot his father a grin.
“You did, in fact. I’ll be emailing over the twenty-page document for you to study and memorize.” His father belted out a booming laugh, a sound Zane never got tired of hearing. He got tired of some things his dad did, but not the laughter.
“So, you needed to lie low?” His father eyed him with curiosity. “You getting some backlash on that Facebook post?”
Zane shook his head. “Can Marlene retire as town busybody yet? Does she realize this is Silver Plum, not Chicago or New York? We don’t have hard-hitting news around here. So what if I went to that event in Bartlett? By the way, I had no idea what it was for. Or that they’d be taking donations on site.”
His father sighed. “Looks like it was all a series of unfortunate coincidences. Ironic that you’re working on getting funding from the state to repair our water tower and then get put in a position where you had to donate to Bartlett’s water fund.” He shifted his stance. “Contrary to popular belief, Silver Plum and Bartlett don’t have to be enemies in this. We can come together to solve the water issues. You know, as a team?”
Zane nodded reluctantly. “I bet a lot of people are ready to hang up the controversy and get this rivalry over with.”
It was a tired old problem that had started generations before. Bartlett asking for Silver Plum’s water only exacerbated a years-long issue.
“What if that post did just that?” his dad said. “Showing that you support Bartlett yet still supporting Silver Plum. That’s something, son.”
“Except, I didn’t know I was supporting Bartlett! I wasn’t told what this event was for. I didn’t even know Liza was chair.”
“Maybe it was unintentional, but it could be a good start in bringing our two communities together. You never know. No matter how Marlene spun it, there can be some good from this. All of it.”
“You haven’t brought up the part of the post that mentioned the dam I broke.” He grunted with disgust. “And that I contaminated the water supply for half the town.”
His dad’s gray eyes twinkled. “A fourth of the town. It was only a fourth,” he persuaded. “I heard the boil order is going to be lifted this afternoon if the dredging goes on as scheduled.”
Zane groaned, and his father patted him on the shoulder. “It was an accident. And you found the illegal dam. Few things cause more of an uproar than someone in the area cheating like that. You did good, son. Real good.”
Zane rolled his eyes. He wished he could believe it.
“How was the date the other night?”
“Date? I haven’t been on a date.” Zane wondered if word about the time he’d been spending with Mabel had reached him somehow.
“Oh, I assumed the gal you were chummy with in the photo at the Bartlett event was a date.”
“Carolina? No, I’d just met her at the event, and we talked some to kill the time.” His chest began to tighten as he thought about what his father had assumed. What if everyone else misunderstood? What if Mabel had seen it and thought that way? He would have to check the photo again later and see if it looked that bad. Maybe that was why Mabel hadn’t contacted him lately.
His father looked at him a moment and then nodded. “Did Lorelei talk to you about watching Styles again tonight?” his father asked.
“Yeah. I told her I could as long as she didn’t mind if I took him up the canyon to Topaz Rock.” Zane lowered his voice. “Don’t let this slip, but a certain someone is asking another certain someone a certain very important question.”
Reverend Taylor beamed and clapped him on both shoulders. “So you’ve finally gone and done it. You’ve finally decided to propose to Mabel.”
Zane’s chest burned with surprise—and anger. “Dad,” he warned before turning away to grab the push broom. He wasn’t going to stand there while his father spouted such clickbait.
Reverend Taylor chuckled. “I’m only giving you a hard time. See, it’s my immature way of opening up a very delicate topic.” He grabbed the other push broom from the opposite corner and began sweeping the other side of the lounge.
Zane continued to anger sweep. “Since you acknowledge that it’s immature, we can pretend it never happened.”
“Now, wait a minute. Can I say one more thing before we close the subject down?”
“No.” Zane didn’t want to be a pest, but his father had counseled many people in the community over the years, and Zane didn’t like it when his father used the same techniques on him.
There was silence in the room. Zane only heard the sound of the brooms scratching against the polished concrete floor.
“I can respect that. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me. But there are times when a father has the right to say his piece, you know?”
At Zane’s low groan, his father took a step toward him. “I can respect your wishes to not talk about this. But I can also value myself as a father enough to ask you to hear me out on just one point. Please?”
Zane had to admit he was a little curious about what his father could possibly have to say about Mabel. He had a pretty good idea. But the more he allowed his father to say now, the less likely he would have to hear about it later. It was like a sliver. Let Reverend Taylor talk now—dig into the skin with a pin—rather than let it fester and stew inside him, only to become infected later. Zane figured he’d have to accept that first route.
