“Monday.”
“Okay. Monday. We’ll meet every other Monday, in the afternoon at Cooper’s field.” He turned to leave again.
I caught his arm again. “No. That’s not going to work. I can’t go to Cooper’s field. Someone will recognize my car and word will get back to my parents. I can’t deviate from my normal schedule or else it’ll raise suspicion.”
Once more, he pried my hand from his arm, still looking and sounding cranky. “Where and when do you suggest we meet?”
“At the bakery, Monday or Tuesday nights. Sometimes I stay late and try out new recipes. No one else will be there.”
“Fine.” He gave me a curt nod and turned toward the door, the darkness swallowing him. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Does this mean you’re going to help me?” I asked hopefully, addressing my question to the inky blackness.
He didn’t answer. Several feet away, the door to the backstage opened and his tall form was outlined in light as he passed through it. And then it closed.
He was gone.
CHAPTER 7
“Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.”
― William Goldman, The Princess Bride
Cletus
“It looks real nice, Jethro.” Beau inspected the crown molding Jethro had installed yesterday. “I can’t believe you routed this yourself.”
“Yeah. And it was Cletus’s idea to run the wiring through the molding, so we have surround sound. See the speakers here and here?” Jethro pointed to the inset speakers along the living room wall. My brothers squinted at the spots where Jethro pointed.
“I don’t see anything.” Drew stepped closer to the wall and inspected it. “Cletus, you sure are good at hiding things in plain sight.”
Jethro clapped a hand on my shoulder and grinned; he gave me an affectionate shake. “It’s his gift.”
“Among other things,” I conceded, checking my watch.
The truth was, I’d spent more time on hiding the speakers than was prudent. But I was determined they be invisible. I called it superior work ethic. Jethro said I was fixating again.
Jethro, Beau, Duane, Drew, and I had just finished the final touches on the carriage house. We were standing in the new kitchen, the wood glue wasn’t yet dry, and the entire house smelled of paint and sawdust, but we’d done it. The space was finished and ready for Jethro, Sienna, and to be determined Winston Progeny #1.
Sienna was due back home in two days and I was still the only one who knew they were pregnant. Meanwhile, Duane and his woman Jessica would be leaving for Italy soon. Their tickets were of the one-way variety.
It was a time of change. I avoided change or did my utmost to discourage it, mostly. This was the good kind of change. I knew that. Still, even good change made me antsy.
“Billy helped,” Jethro said, his voice held hesitation.
“Billy?” Duane didn’t try to mask his surprise; he and Beau stared at each other, communicating for several seconds without talking. The twins’ ability to impart thoughts through a look had always been frustrating. I didn’t like being left out of a conversation.
“Yes. Billy. Billy helped,” I confirmed irritably. “And will you two cease discussing with your eyeballs. There are several other people in the room who can’t brain-link.”
Duane lifted an eyebrow, his eyes darting from me to Beau and then quickly to the floor. “Fine, Cletus. Cool your engine.”
I grunted, but said nothing. I didn’t want to pick a fight with Duane. I only had a few more weeks of him hanging around and the thought depressed me. He was a grumpy, brooding little bastard who had the habit of only speaking when spoken to—and sometimes not even then. I was going to miss him.
“Where is Billy now?” Drew asked, still squinting at the wall and looking for the inset speakers.
“He’s at work,” Beau answered, then to me asked, “you still going fishing with us tomorrow, Cletus?”
“Are Drill and Catfish still going?” I asked.
Beau shrugged. “As far as I know.”
“Then I’ll be there.”
“Why do you want to go fishing with those Iron Wraiths?” Duane’s tone told me he didn’t approve, but he didn’t give me a chance to respond before turning to Beau. “I can’t believe you’re still friendly with them, after what happened with Jess.”
Jess was Jessica James, Duane’s lady love. Last fall she’d been caught in the middle of some nasty business with the Iron Wraiths motorcycle club. Long story short, higher ups in the club tried to blackmail Duane and Beau into running their chop-shop. Since the unpleasantness, Duane had joined my brother Billy in his unconditional loathing of each and every member. Drill and Catfish were members; they weren’t responsible for the situation with Jess or the attempted blackmail, but they didn’t do anything to stop it either.
“Drill isn’t bad people,” Beau said, attempting to defend the man.