Page 73 of One Kind Hand

Marco shook Austin’s hand next, but before he could say his name, Austin said, “Your book was fantastic, Marco. I’m eager to read the next one.”

“Thanks. I’m eager to finish writing the next one,” Marco said. “Sometimes the words flow, sometimes they do not.”

“I hear you,” Austin said. “Sometimes lines come out perfectly. Other times, I can’t remember what I’m supposed to say next.” He shifted his attention to Shaina, offering his hand. “And you must be Marco’s lovely muse.”

Shaina’s cheeks pinked as Isabel’s had. “I’m Shaina.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you.” Austin wiggled his pup. “This is Berto.”

Isabel held her hands out. “He’s the cutest. May I?”

“Sure.” Austin surrendered Berto to Isabel and she immediately set about giving the pooch kisses.

“You might have to wrestle that back from her,” Jackson said.

“Look at him,” Isabel said. “He’s so small! My dog, Blaze, is a giant in comparison. I should have brought him. Blaze loves other dogs.”

“Next time,” Austin said. “Berto enjoys making new friends as you can see.” He pointed to his dog who was nosing around in Isabel’s hair and making happy little noises.

The words next time spiraled around in Charlie’s head. Austin wanted there to be a next time with her friends.

Maybe boyfriend was the right title for him after all.

Chapter Thirteen

Austin beeped his horn in reply to Jackson as the man’s Jeep made a left turn. He continued straight per Charlie’s directions toward her house. They’d enjoyed a superb dinner at a restaurant worthy of New York City. The head chef, Jorden, who was another friend of Charlie’s, was a magician with ingredients. Austin had ordered salmon prepared in a ginger maple syrup sauce that gave the fish a Vermont-infused flavor that rivaled dishes he’d eaten in Europe. He hadn’t expected to eat that well in the middle of the woods, but he knew better now.

The conversation had been wonderful also. Charlie’s friends were genuinely nice people who obviously cared deeply about her. He liked knowing she had these people in her life.

“Marco and Shaina live down there,” Charlie said, pointing to Jackson’s taillights. “And Isabel and Jackson live in an expanded cottage at Pine River Cottages about ten minutes from Marco’s place.”

“Isabel lives at the resort she’s renovating?”

“Yeah, but you need to redefine what you consider a resort. I’m sure you’ve stayed at some tropical, beachfront resorts,” Charlie said. “Isabel’s is a mountain resort—or it will be when it’s finished. It’s quaint and charming, but she’s adding updated amenities. Even those though, like the indoor pool for example, have a rugged, nature-inspired look about them. Lots of stonework and dark wood.”

“That’s cool,” Austin said. “From listening to Isabel tonight, it sounds as if she’s got a solid business plan too.”

“Yeah. She’s been working toward this dream for a while. I’ll have to take you by to see the progress so far. I want you to meet her grandfather too. Eugene is the absolute best.” She drew in a breath and puffed it out. “He’s more my family than my actual family.”

Austin glanced her way. It was difficult to see her face in the inky darkness the Vermont night provided. Didn’t they believe in streetlights here? He couldn’t see her expression, but everything about the way she’d spoken told him her feelings about her family weren’t entirely wonderful. Come to think of it, he’d told her about his sisters—even about Summer’s death—but Charlie hadn’t offered many details about the Moyens.

“Are you not close with your parents?” he asked.

“Pull over.” She pointed to the side of the road and he did as she asked. Had he poked his nose where it didn’t belong? Had he ruined a nice night with an innocent question?

“I’m sorry,” he said, angling to face her more. “I didn’t mean to—” He stopped talking when she held up a hand and shook her head.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” She pointed out her window to a single-level house with a rickety ramp snaking its way from the gravel driveway to the front door. The thing looked as if it was barely standing. “That’s my parents’ house. So geographically, yes, I’m close to my parents.” She turned to look at him. “Mentally and emotionally, we aren’t always on the same page. Add in the fact that my mom suffers from ALS, my dad considers leaving at least once a day, and things are rough in that house.”

Austin reached for her hand, relieved when she let him have it. He threaded his fingers with hers and squeezed. “I’m sorry to hear how challenging things are with your parents.” He’d always thought the dead parents scenario was the worst situation. Maybe he’d been wrong.

“I want to find a care facility for my mom, but my dad feels guilty about doing that. Instead they live in this stagnant atmosphere of him feeling duty-bound to care for her and her ALS causing her less and less mobility.” Charlie heaved in a breath and sifted it through her teeth. “My dad won’t allow me to fix that ramp out front. One of them is going to get hurt on it.”

“Can you hire someone to bring care into the house?” He imagined it must be awkward to parent one’s parents.

“Suggested that too, but my father and I had a huge fight over that one. Honestly, I’m going to try one more time to convince my dad to go the care facility route. The money I earn from your movie might change his mind. If I don’t get his cooperation though, I’ll have to take charge.”

Squeezing her hand again, he said, “If there is any way I can help, please let me know.”