Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82132 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Despite a pinched nerve in my shoulder from the fourteen-hour drive from Boston to Ohio, fatigue deep in my bones, and the deflating effect of being on the other side of an adrenaline rush, I’m cautiously optimistic about the future. It’s been years since I’ve felt so confident, so sure that I’m making the right decision. But admitting that out loud feels like inviting the universe to prove me wrong. So I tiptoe right around her question.
“It feels like my new life in Alden is calling for a hot bubble bath and a bottle of something red,” I say, hopping onto the counter.
“That sounds delightful. Peter will be home shortly, and I need to start dinner. Would you and the boys like to come over? I’m fixing herb-crusted chicken and potatoes like Grandma used to make. Remember them? She’d smother them in cheese.”
My stomach rumbles, and my heart warms at the memory. “That sounds incredible, but we ate at your house last night. We need to eat at home and start new routines.”
“But what will you have? You haven’t gone to the grocery store yet.”
“We’ll order a pizza or something. Does Thompson’s in Logan still deliver in Alden?”
“Yes, but will the boys want pizza for dinner?” She’s slightly horrified. “Didn’t you feed them that for lunch?”
I laugh. “They’re fourteen and seven. I’m pretty sure they’d eat pizza for every meal and be happy.”
“Give them a month, and I’ll have them requesting vegetables with their meals like Kyle.”
“Cricket, your son is an anomaly.”
She grins smugly. “Maybe so. But I’ll do my best to get Dylan and Carter on the anomaly train with him.”
“Good luck with that.”
She scurries around the kitchen, tidying up a few areas. I appreciate her attention to her work—truly. But the house will never be this clean or organized again. Whatever code in her DNA is responsible for her domestic abilities, I didn’t get it in mine.
Cricket and I have always been opposites. Growing up, she played with baby dolls while I canvassed the town, trying to find enough kids to form a kickball game. In high school, she was the homecoming queen. I had a spare key to the school gym. She was tall with a perfect smile and her mother’s good sensibilities. I was barely five foot one, flirting with scoliosis, and harboring my mother’s propensity to daydream.
Despite our differences, we were always great friends. I’d never seen her cry as hard as she did when I left town for college. She begged me to stay and commute to a university closer to home. I might have done that if the only scholarship I was offered wasn’t over two hours away. And unlike her parents, my single mother couldn’t pitch in on tuition.
“Is that your doorbell?” Cricket strains to hear the faint echo ringing through the house. “It sounds like a sick cat.”
I listen, making a sour face. “It does sound doorbell-y in a tortured, haunted way.”
“We need to have someone fix that,” she says, heading into the foyer. “But not you. That could be an electrical issue, so hands off.”
I roll my eyes and slide from the counter. My feet hit the floor as the door opens and shuts.
“Gabby, this is Della Kendrick,” Cricket says, returning to the kitchen with a gorgeous blond woman at her side. “She’s lived in Alden for a couple of years. Her house is the green one across the street.”
Della gives me a warm smile that reaches her blue eyes. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to say hello. And I’m sorry I don’t have a plate of cookies or whatever you bring to new neighbors.” She pauses, grinning mischievously. “Although, if I made the cookies, you probably shouldn’t eat them.”
We all laugh.
“You grew up here, right?” Della asks.
“I did. I left for college, met a boy, and never returned,” I say.
“Until now,” Cricket chimes in. “She’s back with two boys of her own. Dylan is fourteen, and Carter is seven.”
“Well, I don’t know what Alden was like back then,” Della says to me. “But it’s a nice little town now. Our street is pretty quiet. Kyle’s truck is the loudest thing on Bittersweet Court.”
Cricket grimaces. “That thing is an embarrassment. I have no idea why he thinks having his truck announce his arrival from a block over is an achievement.”
“If that’s the worst thing he does, take it.” A pain fires through my shoulder at the mention of teenage behavior. “Dylan has been giving me a run for my money. I’m hoping life here will slow him down a little. I’d love to see him enjoying the simple things, like Betty Lou’s Diner for burgers and riding bikes around town like we did growing up.”
Della raises a perfectly manicured brow. “Cricket rode a bike?”
“Me?” my cousin asks, offended. “Oh, heavens no. The only time I rode a bike ended in stitches. After that unfortunate incident, I stayed home while Gabby rode around with her more thrill-seeking friends.”