Page 71 of Just Trouble

“Doesn’t fit on your bike well,” she notes. “Are you getting a car?”

“No.” Luke sounds stubborn now. “I can take it back to Empire in Daph’s car.”

“And when you leave Empire?”

He gives her a warning look. “I’ll sort it out.”

Louise’s gaze slides to me and she smiles. The back of Luke’s neck is red and he pushes to his feet. “Didn’t you want me to check on that downspout that keeps disconnecting itself?”

“It’s probably the neighbour’s cat, knocking it loose on his midnight rounds.”

“I’ll put a couple of screws in it,” he says gruffly then makes what is obviously an escape.

“Take a shower while you’re here,” she shouts after him and I hear his grunt of agreement. Louise smiles at me. “And I’ll make lunch.”

I smile back. “Thank you,” I say and mean it. “That would be great.”

But what I’m really wondering is where Luke intends to keep his guitar.

18

LUKE

Could that have been any more excruciating?

I’m thinking not. I love my mom but her matchmaking can make me crazy. Usually, it has no basis, but in this case, I’m afraid her meddling will mess up everything. I know I’m on thin ice with Daph, but if anyone’s going to screw it all up, I’ll manage that on my own, thanks.

Maybe I’ve come honestly by my desire to meddle, and not just from the Cavendish side.

We finally escape after lunch and too much talking.

At least she doesn’t get out my baby pictures.

We leave my mom humming happily to herself—probably picking out wedding gifts, but at least she didn’t say anything outright. She just knows me too well, and she knows how closely I guard that guitar. I don’t have many possessions any more. I never did, always having a tendency to travel light, but I’ve gotten rid of almost everything in the past year. This guitar is different, though. It’s my favourite one, and my mom has had custody for a while.

But if I’m going to compose songs again, I need it.

Daph—incredibly, mercifully—didn’t seem to notice the importance of my request, even after Mom made a fuss over it.To my relief, she’s thawed a bit. Maybe it was the homemade bread and soup, but I’ll take it. Life seems a lot easier when Daph is on my side of anything. She’s a great ally, and I like the magic that happens when we put our heads together to solve anything. That analytical thing she does of considering an issue from all sides is impressive and so helpful.

We talk about the details of my pending offer to Sylvia on the drive back to Empire. There’s a moment when she pulls into the parking lot of the motel, a moment when I know she has questions and I could give answers.

But Daph isn’t about compromise and half-measures. I still want to be with her, but I need to get this thing with Sylvia sorted first. I need to prove my intentions. This situation demands actions not words.

The moment passes before I figure out how to explain any of that, then I watch her drive on to her office. The plan is that she’ll draw everything up for me to review by the morning, so I know I’ll see her then, at least.

And she’s talking to me. The temperature in the car was positively balmy. Not warm. Not torrid. But my chilblains are receding.

I’ll take progress where I find it.

I carry my guitar case up the steps to my room, intending to put the afternoon to good use by getting some of this elusive tune down. I don’t have the bridge yet. I’m humming the chorus again, skipping over the gaps in the lyrics, and come full stop when I find a kid leaning against the door to my room.

I don’t know him. He’s maybe fourteen, with hair so red that his buzz cut doesn’t hide the colour at all. He has more freckles than I would have thought possible and is wearing jeans and an Old Navy sweatshirt. He gives me a look that is both stubborn and a little hostile and I figure I understand this kid already.

But I have it wrong.

“I’m Noah McLaughlin and I want to interview you,” he says. “I want the whole story behind your acquisition of the diner and your plans for its futureandI want an exclusive.”

“Who are you with? The CBC?”

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