Page 12 of Holding Ground

She huffs, and I bite down my smile because we both know before she ever admits, “I live in Boston.”

“Like I said.” I give her a self-satisfied smirk she seems to take exception to, though I don’t wait for her comeback. Instead, I make my way to the door. “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

I stomp back to the house, going in off the deck through the sliding glass doors.

Emelia is walking across the yard toward the driveway when I step back outside to light the grill, and I realize I’m probably going to have to watch her move her things in the whole time I’m cooking dinner.

Just great.

I head back in to cut up some lettuce, tomatoes, and onions while the grill warms up and decide to give my uncle a call just because I want to bitch to someone. The phone rings, and I put it on speakerphone so I can still work on dinner prep.

He answers on the third ring, and I can tell by the background noise that he’s already at the pub. “Hey, Elliott. What’s up?”

“Why in the hell would you ever rent my bunkie out to that woman?”

“What do you mean?” He must exit the pub because the background noise dies down.

“That woman you rented the bunkie to works for a developer.”

“Heard she’s quite the looker.”

News travels fast, as always.

“What does that have to do with anything, Roy? She’s here to try to get people to sell their property so they can build whatever the hell it is they want to build.”

“I don’t ask for resumes when I book the rentals.”

I finish cutting the tomato and set down the knife. “Did you think to ask her what was bringing her to town for a three-month stay?”

“If you go wanting their personal information, you’ll never book that bunkie.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This man is part of a crew that makes everything that happens in town his business, and suddenly he has the ability to draw lines?

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t even know why I bothered calling.”

“I’m sure it will all work out. You don’t even know the woman. Give her a chance, and if you can’t get on, just stay out of each other’s way.”

“The last thing I plan on doing is staying out of her way. I plan to be very much in the way of whatever it is she’s trying to accomplish in Echo Lake. Go enjoy the baseball game. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up without waiting for him to respond because there’s no point.

He’ll be fine with this until Mercer Hardware has a for sale sign on the door because of this developer’s plans.

I finish up cutting the onions, and when I head back outside with the plate of raw hamburger patties, Emelia is nowhere to be seen. Good. I toss the patties on the grill, go inside to wash my hands and put the plate in the dishwasher, then grab myself a beer before I head back out onto the deck.

I’m standing in front of the grill, taking a pull off my beer, when Baylor’s voice reaches me from behind me. “Daddy, when is dinner? I’m hungry.”

I look over my shoulder as she slides the screen door to the side so she can step out.

“Just a few more minutes, kiddo.” I use the spatula to flip the burgers on the grill.

Just then, Emelia comes out of the bunkie and takes a seat on one of the Adirondack chairs on her small deck. She has a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. But that’s not what makes me do a double-take. She has on a T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. Gone is the severe bun, and in its place is a messy top knot. Rather than her pointed high heels, she’s now barefoot, something that is obvious when she stretches out her legs and lets her feet rest on the top of the deck railing. I can’t complain about the view.

“Who’s that?”

I jolt as Baylor’s small voice pulls me back.

“Her name is Emelia. She’s going to be staying in the bunkie for a few months.”

My daughter’s baby blues light right up. I should’ve foreseen this. She’s always excited when someone stays in the bunkie.