Page 31 of Make it Real
I’d only panicked a little since, miraculously, nobody had asked for details on anything I’d needed to make up. Where did we go? What did we have for dinner? Why hadn’t I told them about that gorgeous hunk of a man?
Rita’s words, not mine.
“I’m surprised he didn’t ask you out for the weekend already.”
She’d said as much last night, too, but Jed and I hadn’t thought to arrange our next date yet. Seemed normal to me, but Gran sure hadn’t taken it that way.
“He has a lot of work, and it’s kind of a weird schedule over there. It might be tricky for him to plan that far in advance.”
We hadn’t talked much about his job, but it sounded like they harvested twelve hours a day, and if he wasn’t in the orchards, he’d be helping out in their farm store. He didn’t have the same kind of days off I did at the moment.
Waving a hand at me as though my protests were nothing, she went on. “If a man wants to, he will. Remember that.”
“I’ll stitch it and put it up on my wall.” I was only sort of kidding. I’d taken to stitching phrases lately, some silly, some serious, and that one would go pretty well with my collection. I might even attribute it to her to make it extra special.
“I’m just saying, if that man likes you, he’ll find a way to see you, busy schedule or not.”
Way to put the pressure on, Gran.
“Well, until he fills up the rest of my summer with non-stop dates, I’ve still got time to help you pack.”
Stomping around on thin ice, here, but I had to try.
That hand came up again. “Oh, you’re busy.”
I waved at the television. “I’m watching Hitchcock movies, I’m not all that busy.”
“You’ve got your classroom to get ready and your curriculum to do.”
“True, but not for a while yet. I can pack up your dishes or help you with your clothes, whatever you need.”
I would have done all her packing without complaint if she’d just confirm her plans either way. Well, preferably only one way—that she intended to go to Florida with her friends. But she’d been playing it coy with me these last couple of weeks, saying nothing outright, her finger hovering over a button she refused to press.
“Don’t you worry about it, little Cal.”
So reassuring.
My phone buzzed on the couch next to me. Gran’s eyes lit up in cartoonish hope. I glanced at the screen, and nerves flared to life in my stomach. “It’s Harper.”
She hefted herself off the couch. “I’m sure you two have a lot to talk about.”
Yeah, we did. She probably had a specific reason in mind for the call, starting with the letter J.
Granny disappeared down the hall as I answered. “Hey, Harper.”
“Hi, Callie.”
Her moment of hesitation proved the call wasn’t all that casual.
“How was Rumble Room last night?” Maybe I could distract her with questions of my own.
“Great, I’m getting better at the front kick-back kick combo.”
“Oh, was it the cardio class last night?”
“Yeah, I think I like the workout better than the full MMA course because that way I—hey. Nice try. I think you know why I’m calling.”
She probably would not like to know how much she sounded like Eliza just now. The youngest of the sisters could be veryin your facewith her questions and comments. I didn’t really see Harper as one to snoop, but she obviously wasn’t unaffected by curiosity.
