Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
“There’s Eric.” I gestured to where one of my oldest friends sat slumped in a folding chair. He looked far leaner than the last time I’d seen him, closely cropped hair thinner and eyes haunted. Hardly surprising, yet my gut twisted. “Crowd’s finally moved on.”
“Yes, we should pay our respects.” My mom, bless her heart, dropped the subject of my moving home and led the way to where Eric sat.
Following Mom’s charge, I almost collided with a giant of a guy in a white dress shirt and gray pants. Okay, not a giant, but a big dude nonetheless. Tall and beefy with big biceps and thick shoulders that contrasted with a softer belly and midsection. He also had a well-groomed beard and a mass of dark curly hair caught up in a haphazard ponytail.
“Sorry, friend.” Voice as California casual as the sun streaks in his brown hair, the guy stepped out of the way.
“No worries.” I forbid my gaze from following as he strode away toward one of the exits. He could have been anyone, yet something about him intrigued me. Another addition to Mount Hope in my absence? The drumbeat of maybe grew louder in my brain.
As we reached Eric, he started to stand, but my dad was having none of that as he clapped him on the shoulder.
“We’re so sorry for your loss.” Dad and Mom said all the usual things one said at times like this, then drifted to the buffet set up along the side of the reception space, leaving me alone with Eric. We’d known each other for almost twenty-five years, and I had zero clue what the right thing to say was.
“Hey, buddy.” I took one of the nearby empty chairs, so I didn’t loom over him. Standing, Eric was taller and a little broader in the shoulders but narrower in the waist than my Irish spark-plug build. Today, though, there was little trace of Eric’s swimmer build and usual take-charge personality. Weariness rolled off him in waves. “I figure you’re sick of the question, so I’m not gonna ask how you’re holding up. Do you need anything though? Food?”
I gestured at the buffet table, but Eric merely shook his head.
“Time machine?” He gave a harsh laugh before returning to an impassive expression. “Sorry. I’m good. Haven’t been able to eat much.”
“You need to try.” Eric and Montgomery’s oldest kid, Maren, drifted over, toting a large piece of cake. She’d arrived home from college in time for the service, and I’d yet to see her sit for more than five minutes. She reminded me so much of my Bridget with her similar age and efficient mannerisms. “Here.” Maren pressed the plate into Eric’s hands. “It’s carrot cake. Your favorite.”
“Thanks, sweetie.” Eric stared down at the generous square of cake. “It was Monty’s favorite too. We had it at the wedding.”
“I remember.” I tried for a warm rather than wistful tone. “It was a great day.”
“Great weekend,” our mutual friend Jonas added as he snagged another nearby chair. An ER nurse supervisor, he had a naturally reassuring voice. “Even Tony came.”
“Might have been the last time the four of us were together.” Eric sighed as Tony himself wandered over. I hadn’t been aware he’d been able to come, and I smiled broadly at our old friend. Tony had worn his army dress uniform. His longer hair and beard said he’d come off a recent deployment for the hush-hush work he did for the Rangers.
“We’re here now, buddy. And here for you.” Tony clapped Eric on the shoulder before taking a seat next to me. “What needs doing at the house? Laundry? Kitchen? Bathrooms? I’m your man. Put me to work.”
“We’re fine—” Eric started to reply, but Jonas held up a hand.
“Thanks, Tony. The house has plenty of work to go around.” Unlike Tony and me, Jonas had only briefly left Mount Hope for school. He’d stayed with Eric and Montgomery during Montgomery’s hospice care to help keep the household running. “I’ve caught up with the laundry, but if you want to come by later and help me put the kitchen to rights, that would be great.”
Eric opened and shut his mouth before swallowing hard. “Thank you.” He scrubbed at his hair. “God, I hate needing help.”
“You’d tell any of us to take the help offered,” I pointed out. Taking a clue from Tony’s and Jonas’s refusals to take no for an answer, I added, “I’ll be by too. See if there’s some yard work.”
“Plenty of that.” Eric slumped farther in his chair. “More if—when—I put the place on the market.”
“You need to sell?” I couldn’t keep the dismay out of my voice. If anyone loved their house as much as I’d loved mine, it was Eric and Montgomery, who owned one of Mount Hope’s largest, most historic homes. Their purchase a few years back and remodeling efforts had been a time of much joy. “Oh, dude.”