“I’m gonna go,” I whisper to the first notes ofStanding on the Promises. “I’m going out of town for a few days with a friend, so I’ll see you when I get back.”
She kisses my cheek. “With Jasper?”
“Nope.” I pull away, smirking. “Call him if you need anything.”
Mom pats my knee again and then settles in to join the chorus. I take a quick look around me before slipping as discretely as I can to the back of the church. My steps quicken as I reach the lobby. Just a few more seconds …
“Brooks! Where are you going?” Violet Crowder calls from a side room. “You’re not leaving before Sunday School again, are you?”
“Sorry, Violet. I’ll see you next week.”
“Brooks …”
My palms hit the door and I push, shoving it open in one fast motion. Then I jog across the parking lot before Violet Crowder can catch me. For an old woman with a cane, she’s damn fast.
I hop in my truck, laughing to myself as I start the engine.
“Gotta get home, throw some shit in a bag, and get Otis boy to Uncle Jasper’s,” I say, backing out. “Then let’s get this party started.”
I smile all the way home.
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Audrey
“You must be Audrey,” a woman I assume is Cathy says from the front porch of Hartley’s house. She has a red and white-checkered apron fastened around her round belly and a broom in her hand. A pin on her shirt reads “Domestic Supervisor.” “Hartley said you’d be up this way, but I never dreamed you would’ve walked. Did you come from Gray’s?”
I nod, taking the stairs onto the porch. “Yeah. It’s a beautiful morning and it only took about twenty minutes. So, I figured, why not?”
“Whatever floats your boat.” She shrugs, smiling at me with the prettiest brown eyes. “Come on inside. I have a basket ready for you.”
A basket? Really?
Hartley sent me a text about an hour ago and asked me to swing by his house this morning. He didn’t say what for specifically, and I didn’t ask. He’s been so kind to me since I arrived that if he needs a favor from me, it’s all I can do to help. But his truck isn’t here, and there was no mention of a basket. I’m not sure what’s going on.
“I’m Cathy, by the way,” she confirms, ushering me into the kitchen. “Do you want a cup of coffee?”
“Thank you, but I’m pretty much over-caffeinated at this point. That’s kind of why I walked down here. I need to burn off some of this energy.”
“That makes sense, especially if you’re going on a road trip. There are few things worse than being cooped up in a car with too much caffeine and a small bladder—which is usually my problem.”
She laughs, digging around in the refrigerator while I try to wrap my head around the fact that she knows that I’m about to take a road trip.What else does she know?
I turn away from her, taking in the kitchen and living room. It’s almost exactly what I imagined Hartley’s house to look like with built-in cabinets surrounding a large but not gaudy television, miniature rocking chairs next to a stone fireplace, and a few deer heads mounted on the wall. It’s casual and comfortable—so Hartley.
But it has nothing on the kitchen.
Geese in bonnets with dusty blue bows dot the border just above the orangey-hued cabinetry. Containers labeling their contents line up below the microwave. There are blue and white-striped curtains framing a window above the sink that looks out across the back meadow and if someone showed me a picture of this room and asked me what decade I thought it was from, I’d say the nineties. It’s brilliant.
“Hartley didn’t give me much time to work with, but I did the best I could,” she says, taking a few margarine containers from the fridge. “I had some leftover rotisserie chicken from Millers, so I whipped up a few different wraps and put them in here.” She sets the tubs down and pats one of them. “I did a bacon ranch version, a Caesar style, and a buffalo one because I know that’s Brooks’s favorite.”
I press my lips together as heat crawls up my neck, coloring my cheeks.She knows I’m going on a road trip with Brooks?
“This one has some fruit in it,” she says, putting the tubs into a large wicker basket. “I peeled some clementines, added some grapes, blueberries. I cut up a few strawberries, too. I called Astrid a few minutes ago and she said you didn’t have any food allergies. If that’s wrong …”
“No. That’s right. I don’t.”
