Page 57 of Secondhand Secrets

“Sure thing.” He increased his pace, and she sped up to follow. “Next up, a short walk around the Jay River, and while we’re at it, a detour past my old college stomping grounds. It’s a long walk, so I don’t know if we’ll have time for much more after that.”

His reference to time forced her to recall her impending meeting with his dad. Even as a child, she’d avoided Bill Overton, his terse personality well-known in town, and something she’d witnessed first-hand, like he always had something more to do and somewhere better to be.

“Ooo… fancy.” She offered a somewhat fake giggle at her own joke on Chip’s sightseeing tour, although the idea of getting a closer look at his life in the years she hadn’t known him did appeal.

They took a quiet turn down Commonwealth Avenue with yet more old-timey looking buildings and then down Harvard Bridge where the Jay River lapped against the bridge’s stone pillars.

The bridge alone was a walk and a half, so he hadn’t exaggerated the distance, but the city skyline cut an impressive figure, and all she could do was take it all in.

The world as she knew it grew by the second. Harlow would always be Harlow. A place slow to change, where one could coast through life easy enough. A place she knew about as well as her own reflection. But Boston. Boston was a city on the move. A place that changed and challenged whilst expecting the same from its inhabitants.

Few could merely “coast” in this city. Survival required real effort. Real success. And maybe, despite his problems with his move from Harlow, the challenge and change of this big city gave reason for Chip’s motivated personality.

The bridge came to an end, and Chip guided her right, where an expansive lawn opened out to a light gray building with long stone columns and a giant domed roof.

“Whoa. That’s MIT?” She’d seen pictures but had never really fathomed the sheer scale.

“That’s MIT.” He paused and allowed her time to absorb the sight before adding, “In fact, every building you see for a number of blocks is MIT.”

She turned to him now, but her lips merely parted without producing any sound. How had a boy come all the way from her small town and succeeded not only to fit in this place, but excel above his peers?

One sure thing, this boy—now a man, but not her man—made her braver. He helped her leave Harlow. He helped her to consider possibilities she would have laughed off before. Including being with him to begin with. Even though a voice within her questioned her chances of ever keeping up with someone as brilliant as him.

Chip, extraordinary, compared to her extremely ordinary. Unflappable stability to her chaos. His success practically guaranteed from his first ever breath…

And still, she took his hand and forced the reminder that he’d chosen her. His choice meant something. As did her reasons for being in Boston, a place he’d chosen to invite her to, by the way.

She wanted to have fun here. To see the sights. To live in this moment with her hand in Chip Overton’s, a man she cared so very much about, and who she could at least support through his next nerve-racking days.

Being realistic though, the next days would likely be their last, and as much as she fell short, she could give him this. She could give him moral support until his long-held dreams sped closer to reality.

Twenty-Eight

Ally sat at the large dining room table opposite William Overton, his stern blue stare a few shades more intense than hers, stirring childhood memories of how much more time she and Chip had spent not at his house. That choice in location suddenly seeming not at all unintended.

She peered at Chip beside her and gave him a light smile designed to reassure, even though she wasn’t clear which of them she sought to soothe.

This large room sat in proportion with the rest of the house, the deep, moss green walls offset with stark white furnishings. Meanwhile, the table before her sparkled with faceted crystal and silver while a white table runner cut over its rich, dark wood. Everything here was a classically bold statement on the elegance Chip lived amongst.

“So.” William Overton Senior narrowed his gaze, like a lion deciding whether to maim or outright devour its prey. “Maybe you could fill me in on what life in Harlow entails these days?”

Once again, she turned to Chip, his jaw now set in a firm position Ally had never witnessed on him before, the fire in his stare combating the ice in his dad’s.

“Well”—she clenched her hands into fists in her lap, fighting an urge to fidget with her woefully empty wine glass—“I’m sure Harlow hasn’t changed all that much since you left, Mr. Overton. Small towns and all…”

Just then, Chip’s stepmother, Kelly, powered in, all tall and slender with the flared hem of her navy dress swishing at her knees. She set a bowl of green salad on the table, along with some roast potatoes, before releasing a tsk and hurrying over to fill Ally’s wine glass. Just as quickly, she disappeared back into the kitchen.

In all honesty, like Chip, Ally wanted to glare at Mr. Overton too, if for no other reason than he could have gotten up to help his clearly stressed wife.

But then, she was a guest in this house and a temporary figure in Chip’s life.

So she held off berating the man and pushed a loose lock of hair from her eyes, clearing her throat in another attempt at polite conversation. “You might remember Blaine Callaghan, he’s a carpenter now, and I’m a sales assistant at his store, Oak Tree furniture, where he sells his handmade furniture. Aside from that, I attended art school over in Marston and have a pottery studio at Aggie’s nursery, where I make and sell plant pots and home decor to the tourists passing through.”

William raised both brows and turned back to his son, a mocking sort of silence dragged out before he offered, “Plant pots?”

Once again, Kelly raced through the room, this time with a pile of plates. While the men continued their quiet stand-off, Ally rolled her eyes and stood, grabbing half the plates from Kelly’s arms, distributing them to her and Chip, but not before catching Kelly’s momentary stunned pause.

“Ally’s underselling herself.” Chip’s voice punched through the air, commanding attention. Now, she was the one holding a stunned gape. “She’s in talks to distribute her pottery through a major retailer. Argyles. You know, the place Kelly shops at when she’s looking to update the balcony gardens or re-pot an indoor plant”

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