Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Cheyenne rolled her eyes. “I’ve told you a million times, Mom. It’s not that I don’t want kids. I do, I just don’t think there’s a deadline. I have plenty of time to find the right person to have them with.”
Darlene glanced at the ceiling. “You hear that, Hank? She thinks she has plenty of time.” Then she pointed a finger at us. “I’m telling you girls, the biological clock is a real thing, and you won’t even hear the slowing of the tick-tock until it’s too late. And then there’s nothing but sad, lonely silence where the potential for hope and joy once lived.” She put a hand on her chest. “Just like in my heart.”
I watched Cheyenne take a deep breath, as if trying to keep her composure, and decided to change the subject.
“Would either of you like to try a scone?” I picked up the tray and carried it around the desk.
“Of course.” Darlene perked up. She chose one from the tray and took a bite, chewing slowly. Then she put a hand over her heart and explained, “Well, no wonder! These are exquisite! Cheyenne, try one.”
Griffin’s sister looked at me. “Is it okay?”
I smiled. “Of course.”
She tasted one, and her reaction was the same as her mom’s. “Oh my God, so good,” she mumbled, her mouth full.
“And not dry at all,” added Darlene.
“A scone should never be dry, just sort of crumbly,” I said. “But also, they’re meant to be eaten with a hot beverage. Can I get either of you some coffee? I’d be glad to make a fresh pot.”
“I’m good,” said Cheyenne, taking another bite. “I should get going anyway. I have an appointment at the salon. Mom wanted to pop in here in case you have any questions about the desk.”
“Maybe how to order supplies?” I suggested, glancing at the desk behind me. “Griffin showed me how to schedule appointments yesterday, and the guys have been writing up the estimates and invoices, so . . .” I shrugged. “I’ve just sort of been chatting with people who call or wander in.”
“So I’ve heard.” Darlene nodded enthusiastically. “The whole town is buzzing with excitement.”
“It’s just some scones,” I said sheepishly, setting the tray back on the counter.
“It’s fresh gossip, is what it is.” Cheyenne popped the last of her scone in her mouth and brushed off her hands. “You’re giving all the old biddies in this town something to talk about.”
“Cheyenne Dempsey, you hush up. Go to the salon now.” Darlene shooed her toward the door. “I need to talk to Blair.”
“I’m going. Thanks for the scone, Blair—and let me know if you want to go to the baseball game tonight. I’d be glad to pick you up so you don’t have to go early with Griff.”
I smiled at her. “Thanks, I’d really like that.”
“Get my number from him and shoot me a text later?”
“Perfect.”
“So,” Darlene said, looking pleased. “You and Griffin seem to be getting along well.”
An image of him naked beneath me flashed through my mind. “Um, yes. I think we are.”
“Wonderful. Wonderful.” She nodded happily. “I’m so tickled, because I’m afraid it’s going to be a little bit longer until you can move into his room at my house.”
“Oh really?”
“Yes, you see, I’ve been using it as a storage and craft room, and it’s just full of things I can’t get into the basement or attic in my condition.” She looked pitifully at her legs. “So I was thinking that maybe you could stay with Griffin a couple more days. Give me a bit more time to get the room ready for guests.”
“I understand.” I smiled at her. “I’ll talk to Griffin, but I think a couple more days should be fine.”
“Really?” She looked delighted. “Well, that was even easier than I thought. You’re so much more pleasant to deal with than my son. Are you sure you can’t stay forever?”
I laughed politely. “I’m sure.”
“Because I looked up Cloverleigh Farms, and did you know they had a tornado touch down there a few years back? We’ve never had a tornado touch down here. They’re so rare in northern Michigan as it is—that’s some bad luck,” she said, her tone grave. “And you don’t want to move to a place that has a big black cloud hanging over it, do you?”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured her.
Her face fell. “Too bad. I’d hoped . . .” She sighed heavily. “But I suppose it’s a good sign that Griffin’s even showing an interest in someone. It’s been so long. I worry about him, you know? I don’t want him to end up alone.”
I glanced over my shoulder at the door to the garage. “I think he likes being alone.”
“I think it’s all an act,” she huffed.
“He told me just last night that he likes his freedom.”