Joe shuffled to the side and peered in through the patio door before settling back into place. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll say something to her, but not today.”
Joe shook his head and straightened up, flipping a burger again. “Grace, you like . . . meat?” he asked just as the sliding door opened. Betty emerged, followed by Charlotte. It was clear he had intended to ask something else but quickly changed the subject.
“How ya feeling?” Calvin asked.
Betty’s neck and hands were covered in red splotches. There was a slight jelly glisten over each mark where Charlotte had rubbed Neosporin. It felt like this whole town had Neosporin rubbed over it—something to conceal it, make it feel better, look better—but beneath the jelly glisten, there was irritation, pain, maybe even venom.
“Yeah, much better, darling.” Betty’s eyes bounced over all of us like a pinball in an arcade.
“Hello,” a voice called from around the corner.
Calvin, Wyatt, and Joe all yelled, “Hello.” Dr. Reed rounded the side of the house, carrying a large package covered in white butcher paper. Patsy, his secretary, walked beside him holding a bottle of sauvignon blanc.
“Whatcha got there, Doc?” asked Calvin.
“A dozen New York strip steaks. Happy birthday,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks, Doc. You didn’t have to do that.”
Dr. Reed patted him on the back. “I don’t have to do anything, doesn’t mean I won’t.” He then greeted each of us.
“Nice to see you,” I said when his eyes landed on me.
Dr. Reed closed the distance and gave me a half hug, eyeing me in a doctorly way. “You feeling all right?”
“Perfectly new, thanks to you.” I nodded and smiled at him.
“And Calvin took good care of you?”
“Only second to you.”
He smiled back and glanced over at the boys. “Calvin, you didn’t tell me my favorite patient would be here.” Dr. Reed put an arm around me.
“Damn, Doc. I thought we were close.” Joe dramatically grabbed at his chest.
“Oh, we are . . . a little too close.” Dr. Reed’s eyes widened and then he let out a hefty chuckle.
“Ha ha.” Joe uncapped a beer and handed it to the doc.
Dr. Reed took a swig and his eyes found Betty. “Oh no, what happened to you?”
She shook her head and looked at her blotchy hands. “Bees got me. Not like them at all.”
Dr. Reed gave her a concerned look. “You put something on them?” He was clearly worried about her well-being, and it went beyond the bee stings.
“Of course,” she said.
He pulled her off to the side and they continued a whispered conversation. The boys bantered back and forth while Charlotte looked on.
I moseyed over to Patsy who was still holding that bottle of wine.
“You look much better than the last time I seen you,” she said.
“Thanks.” I smiled. “Would you like me to open that?”
“Oh yes, please. Dr. Reed picked this up for me.” Her grin widened. “He’s so good to me.”
“He seems to be good to everyone.”
“He takes care of this whole town. Without him, we’d all be dead,” she chuckled.
I gave a small awkward smile and told her I’d be right back.
I spotted a wineglass on the top shelf of one of the cupboards in the kitchen. Standing on my tippy toes, I reached up, barely grasping it with my fingertips. The glass slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a crash, shattering into pieces.
I let out a heavy sigh. “Shit.”
“Don’t you hate when things like that happen in places you don’t belong?” Charlotte’s voice was like a knife being dragged along concrete.
I turned to find her standing with one hand on her hip and a smirk on her face. She was clearly pleased with her comment.
I ignored what she said and asked where the cleaning supplies were.
“I know where everything in this house is,” she said, walking to the fridge and pulling out a broom and dustpan from beside it.
When I extended my hand for them, she shook her head. “I got it. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”
I rolled my eyes and tiptoed out of the way, sliding open a drawer in search of a corkscrew. Charlotte acted like the ranch was her territory. But the question was, how far would she go to protect it, and what would she do if she couldn’t?
She pulled one from a drawer I hadn’t yet rummaged through. “Here,” she said, handing it to me.
Charlotte opened the cupboard and grabbed another wineglass, placed it on the counter, and then went back to sweeping.
I brought the glass and corkscrew to the kitchen table to uncork the bottle. My eyes bounced back and forth between Charlotte and the task at hand. I didn’t trust her.
“I’m curious,” she said, pausing her sweeping. “Why would a girl from New York City vacation alone in this blip of a town?”
I glanced back at her.
She raised her brows and stared into my eyes. “And why this ranch? Why Calvin?”
I tilted my head. “People want what they don’t have. I have the bustling and loud concrete city. I don’t have the quiet countryside. The rest was random . . . or fate, as some would call it.”
The cork made a plop when I removed it from the bottle, and I poured a hefty glass for Patsy.
Charlotte leaned down and swept the broken glass into the dustpan. “I don’t believe in fate.”
“I don’t either.”
She walked to the trash can, dramatically stepped on the pedal to open the lid, and looked to me. “It’s funny how something that once had a purpose can end up in the trash.” Charlotte tipped the dustpan, letting the broken glass fall into the garbage.
I’m not sure if she was threatening me or just trying to be theatrical. In my experience, insecure women were other women’s greatest enemies because they’d do anything to further mask their own uncertainties. I brought that out of Charlotte. She clearly wanted Calvin but couldn’t have him. Perhaps she had convinced herself that Calvin just wasn’t interested in anyone, but with me here, her previous notions were proven false.
“Did something happen between you and Calvin?” I asked.
She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips together. “Why? Did he say something?”
If I told her yes, I knew she’d tell me more. If I told her no, I knew it would anger her. Did I want to know more, or did I want to just piss her off right now? I was tired of her hanging around, and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could bite my tongue.
“No, he doesn’t talk about you at all.”
Charlotte’s eyes looked like glass. She inhaled and exhaled sharply. Her hand clenched into a fist by her side.
“You know what. In four days, you’ll be gone, and I’ll still be here.” She raised her chin and smirked.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.”
Charlotte let out a huff and returned the broom and dustpan to their place. She stomped across the kitchen and threw open the sliding door. Before exiting, she turned and looked at me. “I hope Joe keeps you here permanently.”
I drew my brows together. But before I could ask her what she meant by that, she slammed the door closed behind her.