Page 9 of Barefoot Lake

“Ace? Your real name is Ace?”

And the spell is broken with his ridiculous question. Why on earth would my name be Ace? And if it was, who is he to make fun of that?

“No. My name is Alice,” I say deadpan.

“Jake.” He waves me off, like my name is of no consequence anyway, splattering droplets of water across his countertop. That seems to alert him to the fact that his hands are in water. He turns off the faucet and dries his hands on a towel hanging from one of the cabinet knobs.

“I helped your mom with the place after she bought it, but you might even be more clueless than she was. I was making sure it didn’t fall apart.”

“Did you ever think to speak to me before running all over my property?”

He just shrugs as if the thought literally never crossed his mind. “Tie up your boat properly and this could have all been avoided.”

I bite my tongue before I lash out at him for blaming me for his rummaging this morning and tell myself to be the bigger person. “I take it the lawn and the firewood and the step up front were your doing, too?” The thought that I had helpful wood nymphs had been fun while it lasted.

He blinks at me but says nothing. It’s clear he helped and isn’t about to discuss it. My manners finally kick in, and I decide to make nice. After all, he has been helping me, and he apparently helped Mom, too. I’d like for him not to hate me if we’re going to be living side by side.

“We got off on the wrong foot this morning. I want to thank you for helping me… and my mom. Can I cook —”

“No,” he says, cutting me off before I can offer an olive branch, and he’s immediately prickly again. The barrier around this guy must be as icy as the Wall in the North. “Have a good day.”

“Look. I swear I’m not usually this insane. I thought you were breaking into the shed or maybe going to murder me. I’d really like to thank you for your help.”

“And now you have.” He moves around me to push open his back door as he repeats, “Have a good day.”

“You, too,” I say somewhat sarcastically as I leave, surrendering in this battle. I’ve been dismissed, and Neighbor Jake is most certainly a jerk.

CHAPTER 7

Jake

Ishake my head as I watch Alice walk across our yards and back to her house. She looks over her shoulder at me when she gets to her back porch, and I step inside and close my door. She is the last thing I need disrupting my life right now. It was easy to dismiss her when she was a nameless woman playing small-town-country-girl, but her being Rain’s daughter is a complication I didn’t expect.

Now that I know who she comes from, the similarities are unmistakable. Alice’s brown hair has the same untamed wave that Rain would complain about when the wind would whip hers around out on the lake. More than that, Alice’s expression was a spitting image of her mother’s ferocity when she charged into my kitchen. Their differences are just as stark, though. Alice is taller than her mother and proud. Her blue-gray eyes felt like they pierced right through me in a way her mother’s warm brown ones never did. Where Rain was a motherly friend who regularly reminded me of Mrs. Landingham from The West Wing, Alice is a challenge who immediately makes my blood boil.

Rain loved that girl more than life itself, always gushing with pride over her strength, kindness, and intelligence. With all the stories Rain told me about Alice, it’s like I already know my neighbor, and I feel a pang of guilt for being such an ass toward her. Rain really would be disappointed in me, but it’s for the best. I don’t need another project or another person to look after, and Alice will certainly leave in time. A woman with that much city in her will never be satisfied in Wilcox Grove. Our little town will bore her stiff.

I set the coffee maker to brew a pot and head upstairs. I shower before getting dressed – again – for my day. I don’t need to be at the nursery today, but I’ve got too much anxious energy to sit at home, and I need to put some space between me and Alice. Meeting her has reminded me of the stories Rain told me, and I briefly wonder if the furious woman I saw today is just impersonating the kind and giving girl Rain called “Dumbo.” Alice seems like fire compared to the docile girl Rain described.

I fill a travel mug with coffee and head out. At least there’s no longer a need to sneak in and out of my own house. I tell myself again that I just need some space, but I don’t feel any better when I pull into the nursery lot fifteen minutes later. Usually, these expansive fields center me.

My friend Eli and I bought the land and the business from Frank, the prior owner, six years ago, using most of the life insurance money from my parents. Legally, my brother is a partial owner, too, but he hasn’t been very interested in farming. I worked here full-time for five years before that and as a summer job in high school. When Frank announced he wanted to retire, I asked Eli, with his accounting and management knowledge, to be my partner. I’ve known Eli my whole life, but I still don’t think he realizes exactly how badly I needed him to say yes. He and this place saved me.

I throw my truck in park and haul myself out of it. The slam of the door echoes across the fields. In the spring and summer, we’ve got acres of flowers in every color you can imagine, but right now, the apple orchard and pumpkin patch are the stars of the show. I look out over the land and spot the new section of Christmas trees I just hauled back from Canada. I can’t say why we’ve never offered them, but it felt like time to add them to our fields. I decide to check on them later and head inside for now.

Besides storage sheds and garages for equipment and temporary greenhouses we set up and take down as needed, the only building on the property has an office space that Eli and I share to the left of the door and a small store with pre-picked and pre-cut options for our less adventurous guests to the right. The store side is also connected to the one permanent greenhouse at the nursery, where the smaller plants and flowers live in pots before they’re sold or transferred to a field.

Eli is already looking toward the front door when I come through it, likely having heard my truck pull up. We’re not expecting any deliveries today, and nobody else would be around so early. He raises his eyebrows disapprovingly at the sight of me.

“I thought I told you to stay out of here today,” he scolds.

I’ve spent most of every day at the nursery since I got back from picking up the Christmas trees. Eli knew I was avoiding my new neighbor, but eventually, he got sick of me making up projects to give myself reasons to stay at work longer and away from my house.

“I met her this morning,” is the only explanation I give before taking off my coat and draping it over the back of my chair.

I flop into the seat and turn on my computer so I can pretend to busy myself with checking inventory reports that have already been checked. Almost all of the back-of-house work is Eli’s domain while keeping the plants alive is my job. Of course I have help in the fields and greenhouse, and we have people who manage the store, but Eli is very protective of his spreadsheets. In the man’s defense, his system is a well-oiled machine.

I hear him tapping away at his keyboard, and I shouldn’t be surprised when a new window pops up asking for a password before I can get into the folder on our system that has our current quarter files. My gaze snaps to him, and I fix him with a glare when I see the amused smile on his lips.