Page 3 of Crumbling Truth
Toni had no answers for me, but Oliver just might. I finished my dinner and grinned down at my phone when Ollie suggested we meet at The Mermaid the next day after lunch. Maybe I could learn more about my mysterious neighbor, after all.
I walked into the restaurant a few minutes before one, trying hard not to openly stare at the updated decor. The restaurant itself had opened before I left town, but its current state was not at all like the tidy family restaurant I remembered. It was…well, hip. Trendy. I greeted the hostess and was directed to a long, gleaming oak bar at the back of the restaurant, where Ollie was chatting with the bartender-slash-owner, Jake, who’d been a couple years behind us in school.
The trek from the hostess stand to the bar felt like running a gauntlet. The crowd wasn’t comprised of only familiar faces, but I caught everything from curious smirks to furtive whispers as I made my way past the tables. I tipped my head to those I recognized and hoped like hell no one would try to pull me into conversation.
In nearly twenty years, the town must have moved on to fresher scandals.
“This place looks nothing like I remember,” I said as I claimed the stool beside my friend.
Jake slid a beer across the bar. “I’m going to take that as a compliment. Good to see you, man.”
When he moved away to serve another customer, Oliver laughed and clasped my hand before pulling me into a one-armed hug. “You’ve been away too long, buddy. God, what do they feed you down in Asheville? You look like a wall of muscle, you dick. What happened to the scrawny little jerk I used to pin down in the mud at the end of recess?”
“Physical labor will do that to you, I guess. And Ollie, bud, you pinned me once. One time, then I kicked your ass the next time you tried it.”
“Yeah, whatever,” Ollie muttered, but he couldn’t hide his grin. “It is so good to see you, man.”
For the first time since I arrived back in Spruce Hill, there was no trepidation, no regret marring any pleasure at being here.Ollie and I met in kindergarten and stayed friends through high school and beyond. We were closer than brothers. Only Ollie knew every detail about why I had left town—and why I hadn’t come back.
“How are things with you and Julian?” I asked.
Oliver’s grin was as infectious as ever. “Wonderful, actually. We’ve got our eyes on a house, across town from my folks. My mom just sent Julian a listing for a house on their street, though. I begged him to pretend the email got lost.”
“Probably for the best,” I said, lifting my bottle to clink against Ollie’s. “Congratulations. Give me a warning when I should expect a wedding invitation, will you?”
“Maybe we’ll elope,” Ollie mused. “After Sofia’s wedding, I’m not sure my parents would mind.”
I laughed. “It was sure something.”
He sent a sly look in my direction. “And you, my friend? Anyone special in your life?”
“Nope. Single and happy about it, as usual. Good thing, too, for my parents’ sake, since I was free to come up here. You can bet your ass I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I had someone in my bed back home.”
“In your bed,” he repeated. “Not your heart.”
As my best friend, he knew I didn’t let myself get attached—and why. Even if we hadn’t discussed it in years, he knew every one of my deepest fears, and until now, he hadn’t tried to meddle.
No one else was going to get hurt on my watch.
I rolled my eyes. “Man, we’ve talked about this. I know you’re all loved up with Julian, but not everybody is waiting for Cupid’s arrow to hit.”
“No, but most people aren’t as adamant about avoiding it as you. That shit was a long time ago. You deserve a chance at happiness.”
“I’m happy,” I said tightly, sounding anything but.
“Right, right. Single, happy, and cat-sitting. How’s that going?”
I shrugged, grateful he’d let the subject of my love life drop. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It’s weird being back at the house, though.”
After taking a long swig of beer, Oliver blinked at me with a feigned innocence that made me immediately suspicious. “Have you met Esther yet?” he asked.
“Esther,” I echoed, taking a sip of my own. Not Agnes or Edith or Edna. “No, I haven’t even seen her. She’s pretty busy for an old lady. She’s barely ever home.”
Oliver’s sudden guffaw drew the attention of half of the restaurant. When my eyebrows shot up, he cleared his throat, thumped a fist against his chest, and said, “Yeah, guess so. Well, I’m sure you’ll run into each other soon.”
“My mom made it sound like she was basically housebound,” I muttered, shaking my head.
“No, not quite.”
