Page 50 of Home in the Country
“That’s pretty slick.”
He nods. “Know what she was most excited about?”
“That she gets to wear it a while longer?”
Shaking his head, he smiles. “She told me that knowing I had listened meant more to her than the actual gift.” Blushing, he adds, “We call them lipstick moments now—like when something is true and genuine and meaningful, no matter how small.”
“I like that.”
“Listen, son, don’t get to be my age learning for the first time how to really love someone.”
“You love her?” I ask, surprised.
“We haven’t said it yet, but she knows. We’ve each done a lot of living and not a lot of loving, and I think that we’ve agreed that we can do both of those things together.”
“Well, I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks, Otto.”
“And can I just say that I knew you were a goner the moment you stepped into our little town.”
He chuckles. “Well, worse things have happened to me.”
Reaching out his hand, I shake it, pull him in for a half hug, and say, “Who knew a couple of city slickers would fit in so well with the folks in Clementine Creek?”
“It’s because y’all are so welcoming.” He scrunches up his face after he tries the “y’all,” and I laugh. “Not ready for that level yet,” he concedes.
“Keep practicin’; you’ll get it.” I chuckle as he walks me to my truck.
“Just remember,”—he waits till I’m looking at him—“home isn’t a place, Otto.” Cullen shrugs. “It’s the people we love. I’ve lived in a lot of lonely places but this,”—he waves at me and then toward where my parents live—“this is what makes a life.”
“Dammit, Cullen,” I grouse as my eyes tear up, and I pull him in for a hug just shy of bone crushing because Isla would kill me if I hurt her dad. He slaps me on the back and chuckles.
“Go find your home.”
I nod as I step back and climb into my truck. The problem isn’t finding my home; it’s convincin’ her to take a chance on me.
16
FALLON
“Excuse me, Ms. Holiday?”
“Yes?”
I look up from my desk and see Annette, the secretary who has worked here since I went here as a student, standing in my doorway. Her smile is wide and mischievous, and I tilt my head to the side in question.
“You have a delivery.”
“What? I didn’t order anything.”
A second later, a man with a dolly rolls into my classroom and looks around. “Where do you want me to put the boxes?”
“Oh, um…by the back wall, I guess. Do you know what’s in there or where it came from?”
“Sorry, ma’am, I just go where they tell me,” he says. I thank him and then it’s just Annette and me. She’s hovering in the doorway.
“What in the world is all this?” I say out loud to no one in particular.
