Page 7 of Living Hell

“You did it! I always told you that patience was the key. Congratulations.”

She knew. Debbie was like the comforting aunt I never had. Since my mother and father were as good at parenting as sugar was to the human body, I was lucky to get help from time to time from her. She fed my brother and me when my parents were busy pulling a job. She knew they were up to no good, but she never spoke ill of them in front of us.

She also helped when they passed away when I was only twenty. I had to take care of my brother who was still in high school and get myself through college. If it wasn’t for Debbie’s help, I don’t know where I’d be.

There were only three people in my life who knew my dream growing up was to buy my own home—my brother, Debbie, and the girl who broke my heart when I was eighteen.

“Signed the paperwork yesterday and ready to move in today.”

“That’s wonderful. It feels good to know you have a solid foundation under your feet.”

She knew my dream but never told a soul.

Fire Lake, Maine was a hotbed of gossip. A tiny mountain town on the side of Fire Mountain, where everyone knew everyone else’s business. There weren’t many people to trust with your secrets, but Debbie was like a steel trap.

I knew what she meant. I’d known Debbie all my life. She understood how important it was for me to own a home.

My parents never owned anything in their life. Moving from neighborhood to neighborhood when my parents felt the heat from the landlord to pay rent didn’t make for a comforting childhood. If I had learned anything from my family, it’s that instability didn’t bring happiness.

I vowed when I was young that I would find a stable career, unlike the schemes my father came up with to swindle others out of their hard-earned money. Being the town veterinarian may not make me rich, but it’s a steady paycheck. If I’m not helping dogs and cats with bite marks or skin issues, I head out to farms to check on the farmer’s livestock.

“It sure does. Speaking of feet, let’s get to moving,” I said as I nodded in Austen’s direction.

The sound of classical music filled the space and Austen grabbed his phone from where it lay on the table by his elbow. He held up his finger as he lifted the phone to his ear. I gave him some privacy by meeting Debbie at the register to pay the bill.

I glanced past her and through the long narrow cut away into the kitchen. Her husband, Jack, was busy frying up some orders. I liked Debbie and her husband. They were hardworking, reliable, and friendly—exactly how people should be.

After paying, I went to the bathroom to wash the sticky syrup off my hands and then back to the table to grab Austen.

“There’s an emergency. I’m afraid I can’t help you move. I might be able to stop by later . . .” Austen said, shoving his cell phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

“An emergency? Has the stock market crashed and there’s a run on the bank?” I said with a chuckle.

He pulled some cash out of his wallet and threw it on the table. As we made our way out of the diner, he explained, “No, nothing like that. The mayor wants to see me. Apparently, some famous person is coming to town.”

I held open the door, and we stepped out into the sunshine. The light breeze and warm air felt like a gift from Mother Nature herself. A perfect day for a move.

Even the world wanted me to own this home.

“And the bank manager needs to be there for that?”

We walked with a leisurely pace down Main Street and I smiled at a beautiful mother pushing her baby in a stroller. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, but I caught the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Most people in the town knew me, which made me happy. Despite the uncertainty growing up, I loved this town.

Of course, I had my flaws like anyone else. I was a flirt and had very little filter. But even imperfections weren’t always bad. The way I saw it, I was the breath of fresh air that kept people on their toes. Every town needed a person like me. I was like that dessert you tried at a new restaurant that wasn’t quite sweet enough and had an unusual aftertaste, but you wouldn’t necessarily mind trying it again in the future.

He shrugged. “You know the mayor. Remember when Channel Five did their ‘Whether Where It’s At’ segment here? The mayor acted as if the president himself was visiting.”

He was right. Keaghan Bailey was not only the mayor but also the hardware store owner. He’s the same age as we are, and he firmly believed that Fire Lake should be famous. Any hint that big money could head into town, and he was on it like Austen on a stack of sugary-coated pancakes.

We came to the corner, and I slapped Austen on the back. He was making a left to head to town hall, while I was making a right toward my dream.

“Good luck,” I said as I waved him off.

“You, too. I’ll stop by after. Hopefully, this won’t take long.”

I watched him go. He was the most clean-cut guy I knew, with never a hair out of place, but now that he was wearing jeans for moving day, it felt like those were more his style than his suits.

Clapping and rubbing my hands together, I was eager to cross the threshold of my new home. I picked up my pace to a jog. A few minutes later, after I turned the corner onto Dante Drive, I was there. Home.

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