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“Tristan.”

“Consider it a gratuity for your time and patience with me.” He pulled out his credit card. “I insist.”

“But—”

He read through the charges, then nodded. “Yes, this isn’t nearly enough. I realize you’ve got to stay competitive for the area, but I insist on overpaying.” He winked.

“Uh…sure.” She turned her attention to the laptop. “You’re a strange man.”

“It’s a writer thing. Yes, I’m an author and my uncle really is Al.” He slid the paper back to her and placed four twenty-dollar bills on the counter. “I inherited his house and estate.”

“Big job.” She didn’t take the slip or the money. “What are you going to do?”

“According to his wishes, there’s a cash donation set up for the school system and one for the library. The rest…I’m not sure. Does Sullavan have restrictions on garage or yard sales?”

She tensed. “We have a garage sale week.” She spread her fingers on the counter. “It’s not for another month, but the people in town have one gigantic sale. Folks come from all over to shop the deals. There’s nothing that says you can’t have a garage sale at any other time, though.”

“Good. I’m going to have to sell some of Al’s stuff.” He didn’t want to sell anything, but if he still wanted to return to New York, he’d have to lighten his load.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, but I understand.” She handed him his copy of the receipt. “I’m sorry to see you go, too. Feel free to come back whenever you’re hungry. The kitchen is always open.”

“I will. Thank you.”

“You can leave the keys on the counter when you’re done.” She paused. “Michael is here on the weekends after the library closes so he can have supper.” She winked, then left him alone.

He didn’t know what to say. He shook his head and made his way upstairs. Cleaning up his things and packing only took a few minutes. He stuffed everything into his bag, then double-checked he’d picked up after himself. Tristan checked under the bed, in the sheets, then in the bathroom. Knowing him, he’d leave something behind. Once satisfied, he zipped his bag and tucked his laptop away, then paused. He hadn’t spent much time in the room, but the place felt more like a home than his apartment in New York. Why? He wasn’t sure. Because he’d let his guard down once he came to Sullavan.

Still, leaving saddened him. His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tristan put his bags on the unmade bed and answered the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, it’s Michael.”

He brightened and sank onto the mattress. “Hey, you.”

“What’s happening?”

He could be wrong, but did Michael sound nervous? “I’m picking up my stuff from Molly’s, then going to Pandy’s for my pizza so I’ve got supper when I go back to my uncle’s place. I got absolutely nothing sorted out, but a lot of writing done.”

“Well, good on the writing and boo on the sorting.”

He laughed. “Do you want to share the pizza?” No hesitation. He knew exactly who he wanted to spend the evening with, but he had to convince Michael to stay.

“I’m here until eight. It’s only half past six. By the time I get there, the pizza will be cold,” Michael said.

“I’ll reheat it.”Please? I want to see you.

“I’ll try to get over there.”

“Don’t try. Do.” He hefted his bags onto his shoulder, then checked the room over one last time. He’d never get what he wanted if he didn’t beg. “Please?”

Michael didn’t respond right away. “Yeah.”

Is that agreement?“I’ll take that as a yes. You know where the house is, right?”

“I do,” Michael replied, his voice quiet.

Excitement rippled through him. “I’ll have dinner waiting. See you in a little bit.”

“Yeah. See you.” Michael disconnected the call.