Page 34 of Digging Up Love
Meg wasted no time in rushing down the hall, but Alisha hung back, leaning against the counter. “Let me help you set up, Granny.”
Head in the fridge, her grandma flapped a hand at her. “No, no. I can manage just fine. You go on and take a peek at all the hullabaloo.” She emerged from the fridge with a jar of homemade pickles and padded over in the ratty pink slippers she wore in every season. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing, sweetie. Don’t hide in here.” She shooed Alisha toward the door with a playful swat on her butt. “Get on out there.”
“Okay, Granny, jeez!” She danced away, wishing for the millionth time she had a set of docile grandparents. Sometimes she wasn’t sure who was taking care of whom. But the memory of Granny’s frail body, of her mom fading, of the razor’s edge betweenhereandgone, remained tattooed on her heart, inscribed on her mind. Every moment, she strove to outwit disaster with sheer dependability.
She swept through the screen door and caught up to Meg.
“You didn’t tell me a Discovery Channel special had taken over your yard,” her friend muttered, shielding her eyes with her hand.
Two pickups—one of them Quentin’s—were parked by the edge of the pit, tailgates down, filled with a mishmash of tools. Strings crisscrossed the dig, breaking the area into sections. The giant bone wasn’t visible, maybe hidden under one of the tarps.
Laughter drifted toward them, and eighties pop screeched out from a battered radio. Toward the back of the dig, Quentin stood scribbling in a battered yellow journal. He closed the book and looked toward the house. His eyes met hers, and a smile blazed across his face. A dazzlingly white, infectious grin.
Meg let out a low, long whistle. “Girl, forget what I said.” For once, she didn’t shout. “Pleasedothrow yourself at that man. Hard, and as many times as it takes.”
Alisha elbowed her and kept walking toward the pit.
“You know, violence only makes you look guilty.” Meg grabbed her arm.
Speaking out of the side of her mouth, Alisha whispered, “Guilty of what, exactly?”
Eyes fixated on Quentin, an affliction Alisha understood all too well, Meg said, “Of crushing on a sexy paleontologist. Duh.” She spoke in an undertone, gesturing toward the dig. “Just look, Ali. There’s a movie set complete with a leading actor in your backyard. All it’s missing is a heroine.”
“In case you didn’t notice, he’s not an actor—he’s a scientist!” she hissed.
Meg grinned like the Cheshire cat. She knew Alisha’s weakness for men with big brains.
Grandpa walked up between them and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Well, whaddya think?” He lifted his chin toward the cluttered dig. “Nothin’ this big has happened in Hawksburg for quite some time. More fun than a pool, though I reckon the dino docs wouldn’t mind a nice cool dip right about now.”
He crouched down on the lip of the pit. “Hiya, Dr.Harris. This is Meg Anderson. And I believe you’ve already met my granddaughter.”
Tucking the notepad into the pocket of his cargo shorts, Quentin picked his way over to them. “Nice to meet you, Meg. I’d shake your hand, but ...” He grinned, holding aloft dirt-encrusted fingers. “And yes, Alisha and I have met.” The brief smile he sent her way held the secret of their conversations tucked at its edges. Heat buzzed through her veins, and it had nothing to do with the warmth radiating from the packed earth.
“Alisha, you’ve met Bridget.”
One boot on her shovel, Bridget smiled up at them from under a tan baseball cap, the sleeves of her denim shirt rolled up to her elbows.
Quentin turned and motioned to the other three people crouched in the dirt, tools in hand. “And this is Caitlyn Hsu, Dev Mehra, and Forrest Abernathy.”
They all waved equally dirty hands.
“Thanks again for allowing us to work on your land, Mr.Blake. You’re doing a great thing here,” said Bridget.
“More’n happy to do our part to advance science. Guess you never know what you might find when you start digging around.”
“True, otherwise we’d be out of a job!” Caitlyn tossed her dusty black braid over one shoulder and laughed.
“Anyway, it’s gettin’ on toward noon.” Grandpa rubbed a paisley hankie across his brow, then stuffed it into the back pocket of his jeans. “The girls brought over some lunch for everyone. Ready for a break?”
Dev used his forearm to hitch up the bill on his Cubs hat and wiped his forehead. “Is this the famous barbecue we’ve been hearing about?”
“Yup.” Her grandpa stood up with a slight wobble, and Alisha caught his elbow. “C’mon in, and we can eat. Once you’ve washed up. My wife Ellie’d kill me if I didn’t mention that.” He winked. “Meg, you’re more’n welcome to stay too.”
“Thanks, Mr.Blake, but I need to run some errands. Nice meeting you all.” She waved at the paleontologists. “Ali, I’ll see you later.”
“See ya,” said Alisha. A full-out inquest was coming later, but thank goodness she’d be spared from any patented Meg Anderson outbursts during lunch.
Caitlyn climbed out of the pit, followed by Forrest, his chestnut hair twisted up into a sloppy bun held in place with a tie-dyed scrunchie. Dev hung back, recording something on a crumpled stack of papers on a clipboard.
