Page 14 of Wren's Winter

“You really going to judge me on how my car looks at the moment of an accident? I obviously couldn’t carry all the garbage and my suitcase at the same time. Plus, everyone knows there’s a difference between a woman’s car and her home. I enjoy cleaning. It soothes me.”

I put my hands up in defeat. “Okay, message received.”

At the other end of the aisle, I saw a man and turned my body away from them, ducking to the endcap display of candles, flashlights, and batteries. Squeezing myself against the display, I glanced over at Wren, who was watching me with a bemused expression.

“You good?”

I shook my head, my voice low. “Let me know when that guy is gone.”

Her eyes darted down the aisle. “Umm, I don’t think—”

“Mr. Winter, is that you?” The man sidestepped Wren and her cart to stand in front of me.

“Hello, Mr. Nilson. How’s midwinter break treating you?” I straightened up. No point in running now.

“Good, good.” The man shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned closer. “Though I’m still waiting to hear about that test, Christopher failed. Now, from what I understand, there were study guides that he never received, and I think because of that, he should be able to retake the test.”

I sighed. “As I told your wife last week, Christopher had access to the study guide in the online classroom. He had the same chance to access as every other child in the class. In fact, I checked before responding to your wife, and Christopher did click on the study guide three times but never for longer than five minutes. He also spent a large part of time in my class playing King of Kingdoms instead of completing the practice test.”

The man’s face turned puce colored, and he straightened up, so he was now at my chin. “Now see here. My tax dollars are paying for you to teach my son. I will take your response to the principal.”

Sighing, I rubbed a hand over my face. “That’s your right to do. Her email is the first letter of her name and then her last name.”

He glared at me, then at Wren for good measure before hustling down the dog food aisle.

Wren was biting her lip, as if concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Small-town teacher stuff. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.” Grabbing the cart, I pulled it toward me. “You ready?”

She nodded, following me as I pushed the cart to the checkout.

Her groceries packed carefully in the bed of my truck and under the canopy bed protector, I was holding the door open to my favorite diner outside the city limits. It was a local favorite, but its distance from the touristy downtown area made it harder for out-of-towners to try.

She glanced around, taking in the kitschy decor.

Hesitating at the door, I stared down at her. Those silly white boots on her feet and an expensive jacket. She probably wanted a place with a prix fixe menu and white tablecloths. “Is this place okay? I can take you somewhere nice.”

“No, this place is adorable. I love it. I am surprised you wanted to come here.” She motioned to the quilt on the wall and the framed doilies. Her warm amber eyes lit up with humor.

“I love this place. They have the best burgers here. And—”

“Adrian Winter, where have you been hiding out?” a sharp voice barked from a back room. Marta Hunt, the owner, came out. Wearing a tee shirt that said, Those who think they know it all are really annoying to those of us who do. A pink apron tied around her waist, and her silver hair pulled back in a low ponytail. Her shrewd dark-brown eyes glanced from me to Wren.

After a quick hug, I motioned to Wren. “Mrs. Hunt, this is Wren Alexander. She is renting Agatha’s cabin for the next week.”

The slender woman looked at Wren appraisingly and hummed under her breath before looking back at me. I could see the words in her gaze. What are you bringing her in here for?

I realized from that gaze that I had never brought a date to this place. If that’s what being with Wren could be called. She had said it was a thank-you for pulling her car out, but there was no way I was going to let her treat me. Any good Samaritan would have done the same thing. Too late now.

“Mrs. Hunt was good friends with my grandparents.”

“God rest their souls.” She turned to Wren, a small smile on her face. “I was very close with Gerald and Winifred for years. Even though he was my beau first. But we all knew there was no fighting against a true love like theirs.”

“They sound like great people.”

A pang of hurt rippled out of my chest. Losing grandparents wasn’t a unique experience, but somehow, hearing those words with Wren by my side made the sensation all the more acute. “They were.”

Mrs. Hunt motioned to a table in the back with a small vase of plastic flowers on it.

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