Page 9 of Ocotillo Kisses
“I could only make decisions for one of us then. I was eighteen.”
“And so was he.”
She angled her head at her grandmother. “I thought you were on my side.”
“I will always be on your side. But Con has grown to be a good man, and the responsibilities he’s taken on have really weighed on him, made him older than his years. Many people in town support him, and will be on his side because of that. So you will automatically be at a disadvantage.”
Britt wasn’t used to being at a disadvantage, and she wasn’t used to being unliked. But if she was going to stay in Broken Wheel, she’d have to get used to it.
Chapter Three
Onething Britt did not do well was sit still. And while her grandmother ran a working ranch, she had hired a foreman and crew to keep it running, so Britt didn’t need to help out there. She ran a successful party planning business back in Houston, and was able to do the boring business end from here—she’d even bought a hot spot to take into account the unpredictable internet connection this far from town. But she was accustomed to interspersing the less glamorous aspects with site visits and lunches to court vendors.
Her grandmother had her routines, and while she didn’t expect Britt to conform to them, Britt took them into consideration. She wasn’t really a routine person but she found herself developing some of her own, and she tried to keep as active as possible, riding horses, swimming.
A woman from town, Mrs. Mendez, came out to cook for Millie, but Britt wasn’t crazy about the heavy food she prepared. Her grandmother ate about two bites of it anyway, so Britt wasn’t sure why she kept the woman on. Britt decided to gird her loins to go into town, pick up something she could make for dinner, and invite her uncle and cousin out. She hadn’t spent much time with her uncle James or her cousin Meredith since she’d been back in town.
She wished she had a way to reconnoiter the town, make sure Con wasn’t there, but she didn’t, so she gathered her keys and headed into town when her grandmother went to take her post-lunch nap.
Britt had been in town over the last year, and while there had been some improvements, all in all, the place looked battered. She could think of no other word for it. A new school had been built, and a new playground in the town square, kind of off to the side, and a hand full of cement picnic tables had been added also. Someone was working on a construction project on the side of the square, and, wow, someone had painted a big mural advertising Broken Wheel, with beautiful scenery in each letter.
Britt parked her BMW in front of it, took out her camera and snapped some pictures, taking in the detail and care the artist had used, the beautiful colors, mostly muted to match the landscape, but with pops of color that accentuated the scenes. Britt found herself drawn to it, and ended up taking pictures of each letter individually so she could study them later. She looked at the signature but couldn’t read it very well. There was an S and an A, but the rest was just a scrawl.
She glanced around town, at the streets that were mostly empty. A few cars parked in front of the diner, and another building on the other side of the grocery, but nothing in front of her uncle’s theater, and thankfully no cars in front of the grocery store.
Honestly, how did this town keep in business?
She walked around the side of the building to the entrance of the grocery store. The glass door looked grimy, but on closer inspection, Britt could see it was pitted and scratched. Not a great first impression. She walked into the store with its low roof, dark wood and foil vents. It had expanded since the last time she’d been here, but the annex was even darker than the original part.
One register remained, but was unmanned, and a light from the back of the store drew Britt. As she got closer, she saw the door to the storage room was open, and the storage room back door was open, leading outdoors.
She heard shuffling and clanking—boxes being stacked, she supposed. She realized, as she looked around, that she hadn’t been in a grocery store in months. She did a little shopping online and had it delivered, but mostly she ate out, usually with clients. She had tried those make-at-home meals that were delivered, but even that was more work than she was willing to make time for when she was home.
She ignored the sounds from the storeroom, pulled out her list and wandered up and down the aisles. Sure, she hadn’t been to the store often, but she did notice the lack of variety here. She shouldn’t be surprised she couldn’t find a few of the ingredients for her recipes.
She wondered if she should ask whoever was in the storeroom to help her find them. Or maybe she should just figure something else out.
