Page 46 of Middle Ground
She glances quickly up at me. “I was feeling generous, but I’ll think twice next time.”
I grin. “You’re too good to me, Ellison.”
CHAPTER 17
MEYER
“I did it,Auntie M&M! Look!”
I grin down at the little boy proudly holding up his basket, three strawberries rolling around in the bottom. “Awesome, Attie. Keep going! I needlotsof berries for my pies.”
Atticus nods and returns to his plant, carefully examining the fruit for ripeness. The furrow of his brows is downright adorable.
There are a few farms around Fraisier Creek that grow strawberry patches, and every summer, I spend some time at all of them, hand-picking the strawberries to use for my pies. The past couple years, Pippa and her son have joined me, and now it has become tradition for us.
“I knew it was going to be hot today, but I didn’t expect it to be this hot,” Pippa says with a groan. She adjusts the baseball cap on her head as she scrutinizes me. “Are you wearing sunscreen?”
I laugh as I toss another couple berries into my own basket. “Yes, Mom, I’m wearing sunscreen.”
My best friend glowers. “Hey, you’ll thank me in thirty years when you don’t have as many wrinkles.”
I throw an arm around her shoulders and tug her against my side, grinning. “Whatever would I do without you?”
Pippa tries to glare, but it quickly morphs into a smile and a laugh. I release her, and we continue plucking the berries from their plants in silence. Atticus chatters to himself farther down the row.
Then Pippa breaks the silence. “Have you heard anything more from the police about the vandalism?” she asks, voice low. For the sake of Atticus not hearing, but also the family in the next row over.
Sighing, I meet her eyes. “No, but I don’t expect to. It isn’t exactly high on their priority list, and who knows where Reggie is now. If he’s even the one who did it.”
She clutches the handle of her basket tighter. “If it wasn’t him, then who would it be? It’s not like you have a long list of enemies.”
That was the part that scared me. But Reggie is the most likely culprit. I made him angry when I fired him, so it wouldn’t come as a surprise if he wanted me to pay for that. Whatever part of him that made him steal from the inn could just as likely have made him take spray paint to the side of the building in an act of revenge.
But there is a small voice in the back of my brain sayingwhat ifit wasn’t him? I still find it hard to believe the man I’ve known for years would commit theft, let alone vandalism.
“I don’t know, Pip. No one else makes sense, but…”
The smile she gives me is sympathetic. “But you don’t want it to be him.”
I don’t. Because that means I didn’tseeit. There had to have been signs, right? I was the one that pushed my mom to hire Reggie in the first place. She had started letting me observe more of the managerial side of things, and let me give my opinion on some potential hires. Reggie had been one of them. Did I blow past his red flags all those years ago?
“No, I don’t.” I sigh. “But it doesn’t matter what I want. Whether he did or didn’t do it, it’s over now. I’m moving on, and I hope everyone else does, too.”
Thankfully, the gossip mill is always churning, so I’m sure some small-town scandal will occur soon and steal everyone’s attention. Then they won’t have reason to dwell on me and the mess I’ve made.
Pippa looks like she wants to say more, but she bites her lip. I let out a relieved sigh and turn back to my work. It isn’t that I don’t want to confide in her. She’s the one person who knows just about everything about me. But sharing my insecurities is never easy, even with her.
“Jackson!” Atticus yells.
My head snaps up, conversation with Pippa forgotten, and watch as Jackson picks his way through the rows of strawberry plants to get to us. Although he isn’t dressed as casually as everyone else, I am surprised to see that he’s ditched his suit jacket today. And again, no tie. Just slacks and a button-down shirt.
Atticus drops his basket and makes a run for it, dodging another family as he beelines for Jackson. His new favouriteperson. Apparently. They’ve only met a handful of times, but that was evidently enough to sway the six-year-old’s opinion.
Jackson catches him when Atticus launches himself into his arms. They’re both grinning as Atticus excitedly tells him all about his berry-picking adventures thus far. I’ll admit, the sight is a little cute.
When I look away, I catch Pippa’s knowing grin. I roll my eyes. She thinks I’m warming up to the idea of Jackson hanging around, but I’m not. My resolve is firm. The day he heads back to the city is a day I will gladly celebrate. Preferably with balloons and a cake.
Jackson places Atticus back on the ground and then saunters up to me, as if he’s supposed to be here and he isn’t sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong. Which is a bad habit of his.
