Page 3 of Cherry Picked
Drew stepped forward, extending his hand. “Jack. You’re the one who opened the new deli in town.”
“Diner and sandwich shop, yeah,” Jack agreed. “My mom suggested calling it Panini Jack’s, but I’m not a hundred percent sold yet.”
“How are you liking the Hollow?” Drew asked. “Big change from Maine?”
“In the best way. I already feel more at home here than I ever did there.” Jack rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Housing prices are affordable—I’m looking to find a fixer-upper I can really put my stamp on, you know? And everyone’s been sokind. I’ve had two folks offer to cut me deals on produce for the restaurant this summer, Randy Justis from the Wing Factory brought me my favorite Girl Scout cookies, the mayor’s wife came by to add my birthday to the town’s Birthday Committee list, and one woman came by to measure me for a hand-knit sweater. I don’t even think she said her name.”
He sounded so bewildered and thrilled that I couldn’t help smiling sympathetically.
“That’ll be Helena Fortnum,” Drew said, rubbing his chin. “She’s a Hooker.”
Jack blinked. “Uh. I don’t know about that. This woman was older. Seventy or eighty, at least—”
“A Little Pippin Hooker,” Em explained. “That’s our local fiber arts group. She crochets.”
“Ah.” Jack nodded. “That makes more sense.”
“What, um… what flavor were the cookies?” I blurted, because important facts were important.
Jack turned those blue eyes back on me. If he thought my question was seven kinds of weird, he didn’t say so. “Thin Mints? I can bake my own cookies, of course, and I do, but there’s something about the artificial mint flavoring, you know?”
Drew made a disapproving noise, but I nodded in complete understanding.
Webb clapped a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Jack’s been so busy getting things set up he’s hardly seen any of the actual sights around here, so I’m taking him out snowshoeing today. Next week, we might go for a hike if the weather cooperates. He’s never seen a falcon before.”
“It’s a little early for falcons,” I cut in. “They’re usually not around much until March. But once spring comes, a whole bunch nest up on Fogg Peak. If you take the Hunter Trail to Glassy Ridge, there are nesting boxes maybe a quarter mile below the summit for the kestrels.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Webb said. “I forgot you and Dad used to hike up there, Hawklet.”
“All the time, rain or shine,” I agreed. “We used to go lots of places. There’s more than a hundred trails around Little Pippin Hollow, and they each look different depending on the season, but the trails up at Fogg Peak are the best. In autumn when the leaves turn, it’s like being inside your own personal kaleidoscope.”
Jack’s smile grew until it was deep enough for a person to fall into and lose themselves forever. “Wow. That sounds amazing.” He turned to Webb. “You guys’ll have to show me.”
“Sure thing.” Webb bumped Jack’s shoulder back companionably, and I felt a jolt of acute jealousy that my very straight brother did not deserve. “We’ll make it a family affair. Em will come, won’t you, Em? And Drew, you’ll be up for it? I bet we can even get Porter—he’s the fourth-oldest of the six of us—to make an appearance.”
“And I’ll go,” I offered, clutching my pillow more tightly.
“You will?” Emma said dubiously. “But you just said—”
“Pfft.I know what I said.” My cheeks went hot. Honestly,siblings. The one time they listened and remembered what I said was the one time I wished they wouldn’t. “This is different. It’s about welcoming Jack to town and showing him around. So.”
“Hawk prefersreading,” Em explained apologetically. “Specifically,Pride and Prejudiceretellings—hundreds of versions of the original, just with minor plot differences. He told me one day he wants to go to the Lake District in England so he can see Pemberley, the house where Jane Austen lived.”
Wonderful. Just… terrific. She couldn’t have made me sound more like a loser to this gorgeous man than if she’d saidwe let him out of the attic occasionally.I wasnevertaking her for ice cream again.
“Pemberley is where Darcy, the hero of the book, lives. Not Jane Austen,” I mumbled, shooting Emma a dark look she seemed impervious to. “And I’m sure Webb’s friend doesn’t want to hear us going on and on about this.”
Emma, of course, ignored me. “Do you like reading?” she asked Jack.
Do you live in an attic, too?
“Oh yeah. Mostly thrillers. Can’t remember readingPride and Prejudice, though, let alone any retellings.” Now Jack sounded apologetic, like he knew he was missing out, which was… kind of adorable. “If I haven’t read the original, I bet the retellings wouldn’t make much sense.”
Despite the fact that I’d resolved to keep my mouth shut and not incriminate myself further, I couldn’t let this misapprehension stand.
“Oh, no, that’s not true atall,” I said fervently. “When you read the variations, you start to pick up on the story anyway. And it’s really quite simple. Elizabeth Bennet, the main character, is one of five sisters. And when a couple of hot, rich single guys—including the swoony Mr. Darcy—come to their small town, her matchmaking mother loses her mind. And Lizzy and Darcy fall in love, but not really. He’s likeomigod, her family is awful. And she’s likeomigod, why is he such an asshole?And circumstances try to keep them apart for, like, the whole book, but there’s all this unresolved sexual tension, and they keep coming back to each other, and in the end,spoiler, love wins out, which is so great because not all of us are gorgeous or rich, but all of us can aspire to find…” I coughed lightly, realizing everyone in the room was staring at me with various degrees ofwhat the fuckin their expressions. “Anyway.”
Jack alone didn’t seem distressed by my geekiness. In fact, his smile went even brighter than before. “How cool! I like when people are unapologetically enthusiastic about their interests and opinions.”
