Page 27 of Goode Tidings

"Yeah. Why?"

He's probably wondering if I'm going to inform on him about his use of a curse word. "If you and Oliver are going to be friends, I'd like to meet your parents."

"Mom," Oliver says through clenched teeth. "It's literally next door."

"It's ok," Eugenio says, slinging his arm around Oliver and walking him to his front door. "She has to make sure we're not decorating our walls with black market organs."

"Organs that were purchased legally are fine though," I add. Eugenio laughs, but Oliver looks like he wishes the earth would swallow me whole.

A woman shorter than me steps from the home. She has thick black hair that floats around her face. It's very eighties, and I love it. "What did they do?" she asks, but she has a twinkle in her eye. I wonder if Eugenio takes after her. "Esme," she says, offering her hand. Eugenio gives me a look like see? We're normal. "No, I was not named for the character from Twilight," she says as we shake. "My full name is Esmerelda."

I like her instantly.

The boys disappear inside, and we make small talk. She balks when I tell her we've moved in next door. "It's not like that," I hurry to explain. "Callum moved into the office he keeps by the lake."

Esme lifts her hands. "No judgment here." A timer dings from inside the house. "I need to grab that. Would you like to come in?"

"Can I take a rain check? I think Oliver would pass out from embarrassment if I hung around while he was here."

Esme releases an annoyed breath. "I swear, I did not get stitches in a part of me no woman should ever have to get stitches just so Eugenio could grow up and ask me to drop him off around the corner from school."

I must have quite the look on my face, because Esme says, "Don't get too worked up about it now, it hasn't happened yet. But just remember, it's coming." She pushes into the house with a final wave.

I retreat to the road. The sun stretches over the western sky as a Blue Jay darts from tree to tree. A walk by myself doesn't sound all that fun, so I go home. Putter around. Fold a load of laundry and remember how grateful I am Callum thought to install a washer and dryer. I know they weren't here before he moved in. They're too new.

Speaking of laundry… How is Callum getting clean clothes? Doesn't he want to use the washer and dryer?

I glance outside toward his office. Is he home? Should I march out there and ask him my questions, putting an end to his eight-day reign of silence?

Maybe for him, this silence is nothing. It's probably what he prefers, given his secret nickname. But also... it never seems like he despises talking to me. He might be grumpy, but he doesn't appear unhappy when we're conversing.

The smiling image from his website headshot pokes at my brain. That guy looked as if he'd enjoy a good chat.

I look down at Callum's office again, weighing what I have to lose by showing up unannounced under the guise of asking about clothes laundering, and instead persuading him to tell me how he ended up in Snowflake and what he did to earn that nickname. I don't know how I'd coax this information out of him, but it might be worth a shot.

At best, he could open up to me. Is it really so outrageous to assume he's been hidden away in this cabin for two years, waiting for a single mom to a teenager to arrive and lend him a listening ear?

Yes. Yes, it really is outrageous to make such an assumption. It's far safer, and much more likely, to assume Callum will close the door in my face. He's not the smiling guy from his website bio. He's the town hermit who is clearly keeping secrets, and I'm a single mom who's unlikely to ever have herself together. I need to remember that.

So I move on. Forget about my harebrained idea to befriend Hot Naked Guy and get out my wax sticks and my little warmer, my marble maker's pad and wax pouring spoon. I spend a lot of time using my creativity for Blossom Paperie, and sometimes I want to be creative for no reason other than to make something beautiful. Wax seals are the little thing I make just for fun, and even though I've never used them to seal anything, I love them.

I'm double-checking I have everything I need before I get started when I realize I'm missing my slanted tweezers. I search around and under the table, tugging my lower lip with my teeth as I return to the bedroom to search my toiletries bag in case the tweezers mistakenly ended up in there. No such luck.

If I were home in Phoenix and realized I was missing a tool, I would organize a drawer or dust the ceiling fan blades instead. But here in this cabin in a small town, none of these drawers are mine to organize, and Callum didn't install ceiling fans.

I grab my keys, sending Oliver a quick text to let him know I'm running an errand.

There's a drugstore in town and they will definitely have tweezers, but tweezers have a wide range of utility. It's reasonable to think I can find some from the hardware store. And maybe, the owner of said hardware store will have at least a morsel of information about the man living in my backyard.

CHAPTER 13

Eden

A bell jangles above my head when I open the door to Tim's Hardware. Stepping in the brightly lit space, I'm met with smells of paint, sawdust, and metal. There's a checkout counter to my right, and it takes the man behind the counter three full seconds to lift his head up from the newspaper spread out before him.

He's almost completely bald, with maybe three white hairs that he combs over the top of his head. It's his smile that has my heart doing cartwheels. A grin that is big and wide, genuine and coffee-stained. The first truly welcoming smile I've seen in the town of Snowflake.

"How can I help you, miss?" He folds his newspaper in half and slides it to the side.