Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
I’m about to walk out of the room when he calls my name. “Autumn, this was outside for you.” He picks up the white envelope, and I grab it, seeing my name written in the middle in black writing and underlined twice.
“Thanks, Dad,” I say, holding it in my hand. “I’ll be back.” I turn and walk toward the front of the bar and head to the bakery. Walking in, I’m greeted the same way I was when I got here. “Morning, Ms. Maddie.” I smile at her as she walks out of the back with a tray of donuts on it to refill the front display case.
“Morning, Autumn,” she returns. “What can I get you?”
“I’ll have two yogurts with granola and fruit,” I say, and she nods, going to the back to get my order. I open the white envelope in my hand, finding the folded white piece of paper, pulling it out, and the card dropping to my feet. My heart speeds up when I see it’s the same card I got yesterday at the bar.
The back of my neck tingles when I pick it up and then unfold the paper.
Autumn,
I would love to talk to you and get your side of the story.
Clear up some facts.
Call me at your earliest convenience.
Darren
I tear up the letter and walk over to the garbage can in the corner, tossing the letter and the card. My hand shakes as I move my fingers watching the papers fall into the can, the pieces falling away. I turn in time for Maddie to be there with my white bag. “Here you go,” she says. I walk over, pretending everything is okay as I open my wallet and take out my cash to pay her. “I threw you in a donut on the house.” I smile at her. “You need to fill out a bit.”
I laugh at her remark. She was always saying I was sticks and bones anyway, so I’m not sure why she noticed it more now. “Thank you.” Grabbing the bag, I leave her the rest of the change for a tip.
I’m walking out of the door with my head almost down when I bump into a hard shoulder. “Oh my goodness,” I say, looking up. “I’m so—” The words are stuck in my throat when I see the woman in front of me. Waylon’s mother, her bleached-blond hair styled perfectly. Her makeup just right, the string of pearls around her neck, and more at her ears. Her outfit is slacks and a knitted sleeveless shirt with the matching sweater tied around her neck.
“I don’t believe it.” The snarl is more than I remember it to be. “What the hell are you doing here?” I’m sure there are people all around waiting for this showdown.
“I live here,” I reply, putting my shoulders back, trying to show her I don’t care what she thinks of me.
“I heard you were in town, but I was hoping you would crawl back to that rock you’ve been living under for the past eight years.” Her voice is venomous.
“Got tired of that.” I try to garner all the strength I can. “Decided I shouldn’t be the one hiding my face anymore. I did nothing wrong.”
“The minute my son started dating you, I knew you would be trouble,” she hisses, and it takes everything in me not to roll my eyes. If anything, I made her son a better person. I mean, he was downright horrible at the end, but I want to believe that at the beginning, he was better, and it was because of me. “He could have had anyone he wanted, yet he picked you.” She looks me up and down. “He probably felt sorry for you.”
“Not as sorry as I feel for myself,” I tell her, “having to endure the memories that I loved a man who was—”
I don’t get a chance to finish the sentence. Her hand flies up so fast, she snatches my wrist in her hand, jerking me forward. “Don’t you dare say another word about my son.”
“You best take your hands off me, Mrs. Cartwright.” I pull my hand free, making her move forward a foot. “People are already watching, wouldn’t want the Cartwrights to have to bury another story.” I walk around her, leaving her standing there and trying not to look around. But the curiosity gets the best of me, and when I do, I see I was not wrong. People have even filed out of the diner to get a good look at this showdown. My eyes go to the mechanic shop and seeing even Brock is coming out of his shop with a couple of his guys.
Brady waits for me at the door of the bar with his arms across his chest, his jaw tight, and I see the vein in his forehead looking like it’s about to explode, along with the rest of him. “What was that?” he asks, his eyes then going back to Mrs. Cartwright, who is acting as if we didn’t just almost get into a fistfight in the middle of Main Street. She turns to smile at a couple of people, waving her fingers at them. There’s a smile on her face, and all I can think is she’s just like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.