a mixture of suspicion and active dislike most people reserved for rats, poisonous snakes and politicians.
It didn’t matter that Neil—who had enough money to buy the store a few times over—was a known and generous supporter of several charities, and had just been fawned and fussed over by the waitress, the manager and at least half a dozen customers at lunch.
To Mr. Placer, he’d always be the snot-nosed kid with dirty hair and hand-me-down clothes who swiped a pack of gum or candy bar from the shelves. There was no pretense with the old guy. He clearly remembered Neil, his past and who and what he’d come from. And his success, money and fame hadn’t changed Mr. Placer’s opinion of him.
Christ, it was enough to make Neil want to reach across the checkout counter and hug the old bastard.
“Afternoon,” he said, setting down his drinks.
Mr. Placer, a familiar scowl on his face, grunted and punched numbers into the electronic cash register. He looked as ancient, wrinkled and grumpy as he had when Neil hadn’t towered over him by six inches. But the cash register was new, as was the deli offering fresh meats, cheeses and subs.
“Anything else?” Mr. Placer asked, his glare daring him to say yes.
“No, thanks.”
“That’s four-nineteen.”
Neil took out his wallet. “On second thought, I think I’ll get a few candy bars.” He picked up a box of Kit Kat bars and set them on the counter. Then, for good measure, added boxes of taffy and M&M’s. “That should do it.”
Mr. Placer shifted his narrow gaze from the candy to Neil. “Should do what?”
Should make them even.
The amount he was spending more than made up for the few items he’d stolen then taken home to share with Fay.
Less than five minutes later, Neil was walking down the sidewalk, his gaze straight ahead, two bags of candy he didn’t want in his hand, his drinks in the other. People watched him pass, a few called out greetings, more than one pointed. He nodded back, kept his stride easy. He might as well wear a sign—Hometown Boy Done Good.
He hit the unlock button on the key fob, tossed the bags onto the passenger seat then folded himself into the car. And whacked his head against the doorframe so hard, he saw stars.
Hissing out a breath between his teeth, he slammed the door shut then rubbed the sore spot. His knees hit the steering wheel and he couldn’t quite get comfortable in the low-slung seat, not when it was so narrow, his shoulder blades hit the outer edges.
And it’s so practical.
He cranked the engine hard enough to have it protesting. Exhaled and slowly peeled his fingers off the steering wheel. Damn it. It’d taken him years to get Maddie out of his head—he wasn’t about to backslide now.
She’d always had the ability to look through him, see into his soul, his heart. To read his thoughts.
Wasn’t he allowed to have his own thoughts? His own feelings? Why the hell had she always demanded he share everything, every piece of himself with her when he’d needed to keep a part of himself separate? He’d been so afraid of losing himself, of never achieving his goals if he didn’t.
He pulled away from the curb. Tapped his fingers along to the Maroon 5 song playing on the radio. Not much had changed around here. Shady Grove was still small, quaint and friendly—Mr. Placer notwithstanding. Well-maintained buildings, most of them originally built at the end of the eighteenth century, none over three or four stories high, lined the street. Miranda’s Books and Candles, with its fancy front window display, and Keely’s Restaurant, where he’d taken Fay and the boys to lunch, were familiar sights, as was Smith-Worth Hardware and the Hargrove Building, which housed offices for accountants, doctors and even a beauty parlor.
He passed the movie theater where he’d had his first kiss, the fast-food place where he’d worked his first job. At the stoplight he glanced to the right. Same grocery store where, every Thursday evening, Gerry had bought their groceries. Behind it the Catholic church where she’d dragged Neil to mass every Sunday.
It was all the same, always the same, he thought, driving away from downtown. Same rolling hills, the lush, green trees hiding the dirt lease roads and oil derricks that dotted the woods. Same streets and buildings, schools and parks, stores and people.
It was like stepping back in time. Like he was seeing his old life, living it once again.