Page 18 of The Dangers of Daydreaming

Finn: Hey, do you have the number for the harvester you and Pops used a few years back? We need to call him and schedule something.

Could I organize a U-Pick for my grandparents? The idea of planning such a massive project didn’t sit well with me, but if it would keep things from changing, I could swallow the discomfort. My phone buzzed.

Wesley: Yep, I’ll shoot the info over this afternoon. Hey, you up for a night as my wingman? I’m trying to convince a girl from the gym to go out with me.

I grimaced. Being Wes’s wingman used to be a full-time job, but he’d been dating someone for several months now. Guess it hadn’t lasted.

Finn: I’m getting old, man.

Wes: You’re twenty-four. Do you need me to pick you up some Depends already?

Finn: Maybe. My back hurts every time I wakeup these days.

Wes: Man. I’ll get you set up for life alert. In the meantime… You free next Saturday?

Finn: Let me look at my schedule, and I’ll let you know.

Wes: Who are you, and where did Finn go?

Yeah, I’d admit that implying I had a schedule was just a nice way of saying no. Maybe I’d be up for playing wingman for the hundredth time, but right now, as I watched Lucy’s waving hands and heard the indiscernible tones of her voice floating back to me, the idea seemed lackluster. So, I ignored the last text, switching over to the one with my Gram.

Finn: Wes is getting the number for the harvester.

Gram: Thanks for doing that!

I kept my eyes on her message. If Pops was still pushing off the surgery, things were reaching a point where the doctors were going to have to start pressuring him. What was he so against? He kept insisting he would move forward with the surgery, and that he just wasn’t ready yet. But no one was ever ready for something that big, right? You just had to bite the bullet and get it over with. The pit in my stomach grew, and I would do anything to get rid of it.

I looked up the lane. Where had Lucy ended up? As I watched, she tucked the phone into her pocket and made a U-turn in the dirt road. The tension in my shoulders lessened a bit.

I stood, calling to her. “I’m ready to book, where do I sign?”

She tilted her head at me, narrowing her eyes in that way that made my heart beat faster. “I would be more than happy to help you book a vacation.”

“I’m glad you wouldn’t turn me down just because of our past.”

“I’m not one to turn down a client.”

I stood in the center of the stairs leading up to the B&B, not exactly blocking her from going inside, but enticing her to stay out and keep talking with me. “You said you were up for a promotion?”

She paused, fingers tapping against her leg. Did she not want to talk about work? Or did she not want to talk about work with me?

“Yes, it’s a competition of sorts.”

“I love competitions,” I said.

“Why am I not surprised?” A smile played on her lips, so I knew I wasn’t really getting on her nerves.

“Need any help?” I asked, ignoring her comment.

“Yes, but you’re already providing it by letting me join some of your tours. I’m looking forward to going to Charlottetown tomorrow.”

“It’s generally a fan favorite.” What would I need to do to get her to walk with me for a bit? I didn’t need to go back and get the Hastings yet, and the fireplace could wait for a day or until tonight.

“Don’t you find it funny that your job is to tour locations of the book you absolutely hate?” she asked, arms crossed and chin tilted up to connect eyes with me.

“Who said I hatedAnne of Green Gables?”

“You. Several times.”

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