Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 104327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104327 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“My only guess is Barney wants Truman,” I admitted. “And Truman probably wants to be wanted.”
The whole situation put my teeth on edge, and my frustration mounted as my phone began to buzz with a new slew of calls and messages from my mom and my sister Sophie.
I waved Tiller and Mikey off before heading to where I’d parked the rental bike. I turned off notifications on my phone from my family members so I’d no longer get their interruptions. I could only handle one crisis at a time, and right now I wanted to help with this one as much as Truman would let me.
When I got to the farmhouse, I was disappointed to see Chaya’s car gone and Barney’s still there. The gate was closed, so I pulled up and pressed the buzzer.
Movement off to my left caught my attention, and I saw Barney’s thicker form carrying trash bags out of a garden shed and stacking them up in a pile. As much as I disliked the guy, his helping Truman clean out Berry’s things was a great idea.
The gate swung open, and I pulled down the drive before parking the bike. Truman came out of the front door and waved hello, his face just starting to widen into a smile before he spotted Barney.
And then it flashed through confusion to anger.
“What are you doing?” Truman called across the garden plot that separated the corner of the house from the storage shed. He hopped down the porch stairs and raced down the gravel path to yank the trash bag out of Barney’s hands. “What is this?”
As Truman ripped the bag open to reveal what looked like brightly colored feathers, Barney crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. “We talked about this.”
“About throwing my costumes away? No we didn’t! You said you were organizing them, not trashing them. Why? Why would you do this? These are the costumes I wear to do story hour at the library.”
“Well, you’re no longer doing story time, so it’s a moot point.”
Truman’s face showed a mixture of hurt and defiance. I wanted to soothe the hurt part and cheer on the other.
“Why not?” Truman challenged. “Give me one good reason I can’t volunteer at the library again.”
Barney sighed. “We’ve been over this. It’s not appropriate. I could be accused of playing favorites because of our relationship.”
“We’re friends. This is a small town. You’re friends with plenty of the volunteers. That’s how we became friends in the first place! I signed up to volunteer.”
Barney reached for the bag in Truman’s arms and set it on the pile before grasping the smaller man by the shoulders. “I understand you’re upset, sweet pea, but this is part of the cleanup we talked about. You asked for my help clearing things out, and I’m helping make some of the tough decisions. That’s what people who care about you do. I know this isn’t easy. None of it is. But you’ll be happy when we’re through. Just think of all the gardening tools you can keep in here. We’ll get it organized as your very own garden palace.”
Truman’s brows furrowed. “I asked for your help clearing out Aunt Berry’s things, not mine. And I already have a huge greenhouse for my gardening supplies, not to mention the barn. I don’t need to use the goat shed for that. And since I don’t have goats…” He flexed his jaw and pushed his glasses up his nose with a jab. “It’s for my costumes. And they’re not trash. They’re special. I’m keeping them.”
I moved forward and picked up a handful of bags before stepping around Barney and entering the little shed. The cramped and dark space was surprisingly tidy with several rows of hooks on one wall and utilitarian cubbies lined up along another. At the end was a portable clothes rack that stood forlornly with nothing but a few empty hangers swinging idly from its pole.
I began unpacking the trash bags and hanging the costumes back up as best I could, stashing shoes and accessories in the cubbies and hanging ties and belts from the hooks. Barney’s attempts at lecturing Truman about needing to stop spending so much time and energy on silly things made my fingers itch, but I kept reminding myself Truman was capable of standing up for himself since he was the one who called Barney out in the first place.
When I returned outside to gather some more bags, the two of them were standing opposite each other with matching glares. Someone needed to break the tension.
“Is anyone hungry? It might be a good idea to grab a bite to eat before the fire investigators swing by for the interview.”
Barney looked surprised to see me as if he’d forgotten I was here. “Interview? What interview?”
Truman lifted his hand up to fiddle with a curl hanging over one ear. I’d noticed him do it before and wondered if it was a nervous gesture.