Page 53 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
Again, his benign demeanor cast a peaceful effect.
“Plus, the drive out to Twin Oaks takes us through town, so you can get a glimpse of Green Hills. . .see what you signed on to and all.” He grinned as he said it, but his words unbalanced some of the peace she’d only scarcely grasped hold of.
“Should I be worried?” Scarlett wondered aloud.
“Worried?” Noah repeated. “No, I wouldn’t sayworried.” Then he paused, as though searching for the perfect term. “More like forewarned. Yeah, I thinkforewarnedabout sums it up.”
Scarlett eyed Noah, expecting him to expound, but he didn’t. Instead, he led Scarlett to the door from which he’d appeared, opened it and gestured for her to go first, and then walked her to a truck — presumably his truck since he opened the passenger-side door for her before climbing into the driver’s seat and turning a key, which had been hanging in the ignition just waiting for someone to claim the vehicle.
Who in their right mind leaves a car unlocked with the keys in it? No one! That’s who.
“What’s Twin Oaks?” Scarlett asked as he pulled out of the parking lot and made a quick right turn onto Church Street.
“The oldest land parcel in Green Hills and home to the Sharp family.”
“How old?”
“Quite old,” Noah replied. “Tobias von Sharp arrived in 1881. He, along with two other founding families, established Green Hills.”
“And his descendants still live here? Still own the same land?”
“In the same house, to be exact.”
“That’s some realGone with the Windkind of stuff, huh?”
Noah chuckled.
“In some ways, I guess,” he agreed. “Twin Oaks never used slave labor. No one in Green Hills was allowed to — based on governing docs Tobias made into law from the start — but Twin Oaks has seen its share of glory and drama, to be sure.”
“A hundred and forty-five years is a long time to stay in one place,” Scarlett said, looking out the window as they drove. She couldn’t imagine being in one place for forty-fivedaysanymore. It seemed like the minute she felt comfortable, something always pushed her on down the road.
“That it is,” Noah agreed, sort of stopping at the intersection of Main Street. His studied glance bore into her as he rolled a right turn through the sign, which apparently served as more of a suggestion than a command. Scarlett refused to look his way, opting instead to take in the houses with their clipped grass, trimmed trees, and weedless flower beds. . .a real white-picket-fence utopia.
“Are these homes or businesses?” she asked, reading signs likeSmith, est. 2021andThe Bakersmixed in withOur Pink PalaceandThe White House.
“A mix of both,” Noah answered. “The Smiths, the Whites, and the Greens are family residences, the Bakers are lawyers, the Carpenters are teachers, the Lunch Box is a caboose, the Yellow Brick Road is a boutique, and the Pink Palace is a tiny house short-term rental.”
“Clear as mud,” Scarlett muttered under her breath.
“To make it worse, the Whites own the Pink Palace and the Greens own the Yellow Brick Road.”
Scarlett rotated her neck to glower at Noah.
“Don’t shoot the messenger,” he said, chuckling.
“You jest,” she said, eyeing him with droll disbelief.
“God’s honest truth,” he swore. “I mean, you can’t make this stuff up.”
Hmph, she responded.
“Welcome to Green Hills,” he said. “Small-town USA at its quaintest.”
Noah came to a complete and lawful stop at the next stop sign, waving to the driver in the adjacent car and yielding the right of way to the older man.
“Is that Maree’s shop?” Scarlett asked as they approached the courthouse square.
“And your new abode,” Noah answered. “The bottom floor is her fabric design studio. She gutted the upstairs to build a one-bedroom apartment. . .did a phenomenal job on it. But by the time she finished the remodel, she and Rhys were pretty serious, so she hardly ever lived there. It’s basically brand-new. You’ll love it!”
