Total pages in book: 31
Estimated words: 29436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 147(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Okay, what is it?”
My eyes snap to my father’s. “What’s what?”
He points to the wall where he’s finished hanging all the pictures. “Well, I’m done. All the pictures are hung, and for the last two, you’ve ignored me when I’ve asked you if they’re straight, so obviously there’s something on your mind. What is it?”
He’s smiling at me the way he always does. He’s patient, packing the nails up and putting the hammer back in the toolbox. I could lie to him, but I don’t want to, and he’d probably realize it.
“How did you know? I mean, when you met Mom, how did you know she was the one?”
He starts to laugh softly. “Well, that didn’t go where I thought it was going.” He starts to walk, and I follow behind him. I know my father well enough to know that he’s thinking about it before he answers me. He’s always cool and calm, so as soon as we get into his office, I sit in the seat across from his desk.
“Well, let’s see,” he says, sitting down across from me. “I met your mother at a drive-in, and not like the movie drive-in, but the food place, where you pull in and they come to your car to take your order. Man, I miss that place. They made the best peanut butter shakes on the East Coast.”
“Better than at Red’s Diner?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t you dare tell Violet I said that. She gives me a slice of pie every time I go in there, and I definitely don’t want to get on her bad side.”
I turn sideways in the seat and lay my head back. “I promise.”
“Well, your mom was the carhop. She came out and asked me for my order. I asked for her phone number instead.”
“Did she give it to you?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. I’ve heard this story before many times, but it never gets old.
He shakes his head as he’s staring at the picture of my mom on his desk. “No, not at first. She took some convincing. She was also dating someone else, so I couldn’t really blame her.”
“What did you do?”
His lips lift up in the corner. “Well, I went there every day to see her. Sat in my car and ate my peanut butter milkshake. I was relentless. I wasn’t going to give up. She talked to me, and the more I got to know her, well, one day she told me she broke up with her boyfriend. I asked her to marry me that same night.” He starts to laugh, and I swear by the look on his face, he’s reliving that night right now. “She thought I was crazy, but she did accept my request for a date. We went out for two weeks before I finally convinced her to marry me.”
I sit up. “So you knew when she broke up with her boyfriend.”
He shakes his head, and his eyes meet mine. “Nope. I knew from the second I laid eyes on her that I wanted to marry her.”
I blush when my father looks at me curiously. “So what’s all this about?”
There’s no sense lying to him. “I met someone today, and I don’t know; it was different.” I hold my hands up. “And I’m not saying he’s the one or anything, I just, I don’t know. He made me feel things I haven’t felt before. Made me start thinking about you and Mom.”
He picks up his pencil and taps it on the open notepad on his desk. “Who is this gentleman? Anyone I know?”
I roll my eyes. I have no doubt my father knows him. He knows everyone in Whiskey Run. “He’s no one, Dad,” I huff and instantly feel guilty. I shouldn’t say no one, but I don’t want to tell him who it is yet. This is something I want to keep to myself for a while. Plus, I may never even see him again.
“No one, huh? Well, this no one sure has you tied up in knots.” He points at my hands, which are holding on to the sides of the chair. I look down, and my knuckles are white from holding them so tight.
I loosen my hold and roll my shoulders. “It’s fine, Dad. There’s nothing really to tell. I just met him today.” And before he can ask me anything else, I’m jumping out of my seat. “Well, I have things to work on. Thanks for hanging the pictures, Dad.”
“You’re welcome, honey. And hey, Janie.”
I stop in the doorway, paste a smile on my face, and turn around. “Yeah, Dad?”
“He’ll call you.”
“How did you—? I mean, I don’t...”
He picks up a folder on his desk and walks over to the file cabinet. I’m glad he’s not looking at me, because I don’t want him to see the hopeful look on my face. “I know he’ll call you. How could he not?”