Beck and Tyler come running in for food. “Know who?” they ask in unison, and for some ridiculous reason, it reminds me of how Alyson and I spoke the same words at the same time.
Lesson or blessing.
I’m going with the former, although I have no idea what lesson I’ve learned. I nudge my brothers and gesture for them to set the table.
“New neighbor just arrived,” Mom announces as Beck takes the utensils from her hand, and Tyler grabs the plates and spreads them out.
“Does that mean I won’t have to take care of their animals tomorrow?” Ty asks.
I ignore my brother and zero in on my mother, noting that she’s yet to answer my question. “Do you know the new owner?”
She tucks a silvery-blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “You mean Reid?”
“Yeah, Reid,” I say. Why the hell is she being so cagey? Unease worms its way through my blood. “You don’t like him, do you?”
Instead of answering—again—she says, “After dinner, I want you to bring a pie over, Jay.”
“Why?” I ask, my gut sensing something isn’t right.
She puts her hand on my arm and squeezes. “It’s the neighborly thing to do,” she says, and my stomach instantly sinks as realization hits.
My mother uses pie to mend bad relations and ease tension between farmers. Heck, her pastry even prevented a land dispute war before I was born—or so I was told. The fact that Mom is sending me with a fresh-out-of-the-oven apple pie isn’t a good sign. Not a good sign at all. In fact, it’s a sign that tension is brewing, and shit could very well hit the fan.
Chapter Three
Alyson
“Yeah, I’m here. Flight was good, and I made it without any problems,” I fib. No sense in telling Mom my day had gone from bad to worse. Delayed flight, lost luggage, upset child beside me who nearly ripped half my hair out before losing the contents of his lunch all over the armrest. But the winner of the day was the dip in the Atlantic where I almost died. Okay, I didn’t almost die, but still, it was a craptastic day for the most part.
Until you got naked with the hottest guy on the planet.
Well, we didn’t really get naked. I mean, we did, and we didn’t—not in the way I’ve been fantasizing about during my drive to the burbs, aka Farmington, Nova Scotia—and I am not going to spend one more second thinking about that. Two, maybe, but not one.
Good God.
Seriously, though. I’ll never set eyes on him again, and Mom doesn’t need to know of my bad fortune or that I’ll be wearing the same underwear until the airline finds my suitcase. I make a mental note to hang my salty clothes out to dry so I’ll have something to wear tomorrow.
I can’t even imagine what’s available in this small town or what hours they even keep. I’m sure my wool blanket is more fashionable than what I’d find locally. I almost snort. What would my friends say if they could see me now? Honestly, though, why should I care? None of them came to see me off. My closest friend Lucy sent a text, but it’s not the same, and it’s not the first time I’ve questioned our friendship or why she and the others really hang out with me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mom asks. “Your voice is a bit shaky.”
Oh, probably because I’m in over my head for real this time, sinking like a stone tossed into the Atlantic with no Mr. Hottie, aka Jay, to fish me out.
“Mom, I’m fine.” If I tell her otherwise, she’ll insist I come home, maybe even send one of her drivers to pick me up. I am not going back to New York. At least not a second before my thirty days are up. Nothing will stop me from sticking it out. Nothing short of the Ebola virus, and I’d fight that to the death first.
A knock sounds at my door for the second time today. I am so not in the mood for another visitor—although the lady next door was nice. But I’m in my underwear, draped in an itchy blanket.
“Someone’s at the door. I’ll talk to you later, okay?” I say as I slowly pace the old farmhouse, going from the tidy kitchen to the front door. I peer out the dirty window to see an elderly gentleman this time. His skin is tanned and weathered from the outdoors.