Big Man for Christmas - Penny Wylder Page 0,5
the one that got away and my heart desperately wants to hear more.
“I don’t know,” he says. “But she’s here without her husband. Guess there was some kind of big falling out and she’s back here to recover. Oh.” Sal nods to my basket. “Also heard a storm is coming in, so get some extra.”
The girl stocking the fridge with meat turns to us. “I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that.”
“Saying what?” Sal asks.
The girl—I think her name is Shonda—rolls her eyes. “That Carley Farrell is married. They never got married. Engaged yes, married no.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
She laughs. “You remember the engagement photos? Mrs. Farrell showed them to everyone who had eyeballs. If she’d have gotten married she would have papered the town hall with pictures of Carley’s big city wedding. And grab some milk while you’re here. Gonna freeze over for a couple days.”
She has a point. Mrs. Farrell does love to brag about her daughters. I nod to both Sal and Shonda, ducking past them as they continue on about the Farrells and I pick up the rest of my groceries.
I do pick up a little extra just in case. That’s another rule about town gossip—if more than one person gives you the same information, even in different ways, it’s more likely to be true. Since they both mentioned the bad weather, I take their advice and stock up on a couple things. Last thing I want to do is drag my ass all the way back here because I didn’t get enough to last through a few days of snow.
Setting my things on the counter, Shonda appears behind it. “You’re working up here too?”
She shrugs. “Mary called in sick so I’m handling everything today.” While she’s ringing up my groceries she keeps talking. “I hear Carley is a lawyer too now, and she’s coming back to help Elgin. She’s going to take on that Dollar General that’s taking our business. And I’m glad you’ve got enough for a few days. There’s going to be a whiteout blizzard. I can feel it coming.”
I blink, trying to process the sheer amount of information that she just threw at me. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
I have no doubt that most, if not all, of what I heard just now wasn’t true. But going by the rules of gossip, one thing is confirmed: Carley Farrell was back in town. Funny that I was just thinking about her.
Mr. Doubleday’s house is just down the road, and I pull up only a couple minutes after leaving the store. The air is brisk and cold, with something in the air that could mean a storm. We’ll see how bad it gets.
I grab the bundles of firewood out of the bed of my truck and haul them up to the porch one by one. I’m almost done when the door opens. “Thought I heard you out here,” the older man says. “Thank you so much for bringing it all the way out here. I’m much obliged.”
“Mr. Doubleday, you’re paying me for the delivery. You don’t have to be obliged.” I chuckle. He says that he is every time though. Just another small town routine like my treats with Darlene and Jemma.
“I’ll get that money to you as soon as the social security check comes in. You know how it is.”
I nod. “I know you’re good for it.” Heading back to the truck, I grab another bundle of wood—more than I’m meant to deliver. The little house Mr. Doubleday lives in isn’t the sturdiest thing I’ve ever seen. It holds, but it could use a little love. I’ve done what I can without pushing the limits of what he considers charity. But if there is a storm coming in soon, he might need more wood.
“This isn’t the best wood,” I tell him. “It’ll burn fast, and there’s a storm coming in. Everyone is talking about it. So I’m giving you an extra bundle—no charge, and I won’t take no for an answer.”
He makes a face at me. “Fine. I did hear about that cold snap coming in. Heard that there might be some sleet. Always makes the house a little colder.”
I stack the wood where he’ll have easy access to it. “You want me to bring this inside so that it doesn’t get wet with the storm?”
He considers for a moment. “If you won’t mind, I think that would be good.” I stop him before he can reach for one of the bundles himself, and