Page 58 of Wayward

“Now come sit down.”

She’d placed my sandwich, and the brisket she’d bought for Gale, on beautiful cobalt-blue-and-forest-green-swirl plates.

“These are gorgeous,” I said, taking my seat beside Gale.

“Thank you. I made them.”

“Really?” I was impressed, lifting mine to look at the design underneath.

“Yep, that’s my potter’s mark there, the sun for Summerland.”

“Holy shit, Ada,” I said, and she laughed, her smile huge. “We need to make with the selling. We can start taking these to the farmer’s market.”

She was beaming at me. “I would love that.”

“Not that you need the money, but you could maybe donate all the profits to a place you like.”

“What a marvelous idea,” she said with a sigh, reaching across the table to take my hand. “Oh, Maks, I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” Gale added, his hand on my thigh under the table for just a moment. “And so you know, there is nothing in your fridge. You’ll need to go to the store.”

“I’ll do that after we walk through the big house.”

He chuckled. “I love that you think our local market stays open after six.”

“Really?”

“One-horse town, son.” He snickered, bumping me with his shoulder. “So maybe for tonight I’ll bring over some bottled water, coffee, and apple juice. Unless you don’t like apple juice.”

“I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t like apple juice,” Ada said, looking at me askance.

“I do like apple juice,” I confirmed, grinning, then turned to Gale. “I like it a lot.”

“Of course you do,” he said, chuckling, and that hand was back on my thigh. When he went to move it again, I covered it with mine. “Okay, then,” he whispered, and it was good that we had an understanding.

EIGHT

My house was a standard model two-bedroom, one-bathroom, living room, and kitchen model. There was nothing special about it except the wooden floors. It had been built, like the main house and Gale’s, in 1925, but unlike the other two, it had not been continuously occupied. It was why it looked homey in a vintage way. It was charming instead of dated, the only appliances being a refrigerator that was a refugee from 1954 and a stackable washer and dryer from the ’70s. I would have worried about it all being so old, but they both looked brand new. It was like the house had been frozen in time.

“It’s nice in here,” I told Ada.

“I’ve always thought so,” she agreed.

It was fully furnished, which was great for me.

“You might need to do some laundry since God knows how much dust is on the sheets and towels in your linen closet.”

“I can help you with that,” Gale offered. “We’ll put a load in and then go look at the main house. That’ll be fun.”

Both Ada and I turned to him.

“What?”

“That was snide,” Ada informed him. “Maks already knows it’s in a bit of disrepair.”

“A bit?” Gale raised a brow.

She made a tutting sound like he needed to be quiet.