Page 14

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Noah had hoped by now to find some time to talk to Gracie about... well, their future. Mainly, did they still have a chance for one or not?

But after all the jowl-grabbing on the porch yesterday morning, Gracie kept brushing him off whenever he approached her, declaring she couldn’t afford to waste another single minute on anything but her story. She spent the rest of the day on the couch, pecking away at her laptop, and said she planned to do the exact same thing today until her entire manuscript was fixed.

Well, pecking away and finding sustenance on nothing more than toast and tea might work for Gracie, but Noah was in dire need of some real food and conversation this morning. Which is why he now found himself climbing out of his Jeep on Main Street in Alda, getting heckled by Bobby the Barber.

“You know,” Bobby said, sweeping the sidewalk in front of his barbershop the same way he had since the first time Noah rolled into town some twenty-plus years ago, “if you’re still looking for those five strikes, the men’s bowling league starts up on Tuesday. They might even let you finish out the season,” he added with a guffaw.

What was it Jesus had said about a prophet without honor? Well, this might not be Noah’s hometown, but it still rang pretty true. Not that Noah minded. Sometimes it felt nice just being known as plain old Noah Parker, Gracie’s fella.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Bobby,” Noah said, reaching for the door to Lyla’s Diner just as Mert Adley pushed it open.

“Well, howdy do there, Noah.” Mert Adley, wearing a green mesh John Deere cap and bib overalls, held the door open for him. “Good pitching earlier this season. Not sure what happened there toward the end.”

“I think I got old.”

“Ha!” Mert slapped him on the back. “Happens to the best of us, doesn’t it? But hey, there’s always next year, right?”

The door clanged shut with a ding. “Not always,” Noah muttered, not wanting to give any thought to what next year might look like for him. Not before he poured some coffee down his throat at least.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee, maple syrup, and greasy bacon welcomed Noah further inside. Conversations and silverware clattering on plates sounded along with the song “A Teenager in Love” by Dion and the Belmonts. Place hadn’t changed a bit since Noah was a teenager. Shoot, probably hadn’t changed a bit since Dion was a teenager.

No, he hadn’t grown up in this sleepy little town. But he’d spent plenty of time here winning Gracie over. And somehow this town had wormed its way into his heart. Probably because the people here had allowed him to worm his way into theirs.

The tension Noah put on every day like a T-shirt loosened from his shoulders. Felt good to be home.

“Ooop. Everybody sit up a little straighter now,” a deep feminine voice boomed. “We have us here a see-leb-er-tee. Yes, we do.” Lyla hoisted her tray with a coffee pot and mugs up over her fleshy shoulder and sashayed over to Noah. “Well, hello sir. I do believe we have your special booth ready and waiting. Right this way.”

“Thank you, server.” Noah replied in a snooty tone. “And do you still have my usual drink, the triple non-fat sow-cow macchiato with an extra shot of caffeine-free espresso, two spoons, one straw?”

“Oh, but of course.” She motioned to a booth covered in wet streaks. A dishrag was still perched on the edge of the table.

When he sat, she plunked a mug in front of him and poured dark coffee from her pot. “Does it meet your standards?”

Noah tasted a small sip of the plain black coffee, strong enough to put as much hair on his chest as what was currently covering his face, and made a show of working it around in his mouth before swallowing. “It will do quite well, thank you.”

Her stoic features finally broke loose into a toothy smile, and she cackled. “Stand up and give me a real hello.”

Noah slid out from the booth and wrapped the short, hearty woman in his arms. She squealed when he lifted her off her feet. “Silly boy.”

“I’ve missed you,” Noah said, setting her back down and grinning into her round face.

“Of course you have. Nobody makes breakfast like me. I tried telling you that.” She waved her fingers at another customer who’d just stepped inside. “Figure out what you want. I’ll be back in a few.”

No sooner had Noah settled back in the booth, than his old friend Abe slid into the seat across from him. “You dirty dog. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back? I would have lined up a parade. Organized a bake-off. Put together a talent show. A kissing booth. Something.”

“I think you just covered all the reasons I didn’t tell you.” Noah emptied creamer into his coffee, then flung the empty container at Abe. A few years older than Noah, Abe was one of the guys who had tried staking a claim on Gracie before he realized he had no chance once Noah started dating her.

Abe caught the missile and grinned. “See that. Lightning-fast reflexes. I should have gone pro.”

“Really missed your chance.”

Abe hunched his shoulders, a what-do-you-do expression on his face. “Too bad this town would’ve fallen apart without me as their mayor.”

“Such a shame.”

“Don’t I know it. I could’ve been making the big bucks, living the good life, but no. I chose to fight the good fight. Put this little town on the map.”

“You’re a good man, Abe McKinley.”

“They don’t make them like me anymore.”

“So humble.”

“So handsome .”

“So... so... full of it.” Noah shook his head, smiling. “How you been?”

Abe shrugged. “Living the dream, I guess.” He pointed to his ring finger. “Least that’s what Lizzy keeps telling me.”

“How’re the kids?”

“Good. Got another one on the way.”

Noah paused with his coffee halfway to his mouth. “No kidding?”

“Lizzy had to pick me up from the floor when she told me.” Abe shrugged. “But I guess you know what they say about making God laugh. He must’ve laughed pretty good when I had my vasectomy fourteen years ago because we planned to be done.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. Wow. That’s pretty much the same thing my urologist said when I told him last week.”

Noah rested his elbows on the table and lifted his coffee mug up as a toast. “Well, congratulations.”

Abe grunted, but Noah could see the spark of joy in Abe’s eyes. “Diapers. Strollers. Man, who would’ve thought. Just hope I’ve got another season left in me.” His eyes narrowed on Noah. “Got any more seasons left in you?”

Noah scratched his beard. “Guess it all depends on Gracie.”

Lyla returned, saving him from having to elaborate. “Know what you want, honey?”

“Pancakes. Lots of them,” Abe answered.

She frowned. “Not you, honey. Him-honey.”

“Pancakes,” Noah said. “Lots of them.”

She grabbed the giant menus off the table and pretended to bop Noah and Abe on their heads. “You two are just as much trouble now as when you were fighting over Miss Gracie.”

Noah and Abe feigned innocent looks. This time she bopped them for real, then sauntered away.

“Speaking of Miss Gracie.” Abe leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Is that why you’re back? Came close to calling you a dozen times or better, but then Lizzy would tell me it wasn’t my business. Plus, I was pretty sure Gracie would kill me.”

“I get it. No worries. Matt called me.”

Abe fiddled with a sugar packet. “So what are you planning to do about it? I hate to say this, but honestly, you know... he’s not a bad guy. He and Gracie seem to get along real well even if he is a bit older. Part of me keeps expecting to hear she’ll be walking down the aisle again—”

“Whoa.” Noah lifted his hands as if Abe were suddenly pointing a gun at him. “What are you talking about? Who are you talking about? Is Gracie...” His voice grew hoarse as he lowered his hands to the table and leaned forward. “Is Gracie...” He didn’t even want to finish the sentence.

“Getting friendly with Luke? Yeah. Thought you knew.” Now Abe leaned forward, his voice all weird and raspy. “Something tells me you didn’t know.”

“Who’s Luke? And what do you mean my wife’s getting friendly with him?”

Abe dropped his crumpled sugar packet on the table and reached for another one. “Ex-wife. And honestly, he’s a good guy. I doubt you know him though. He only moved to the area a few months ago.”

“And they’re already getting friendly?”

“She’s not a teenager.”

“She’s my wife.”

“Ex-wife.”

“Stop saying that.”

“He’s a good guy.”

“Stop saying that .” Noah massaged his temples. First chance he got, he was stringing Matt up to a telephone pole. He couldn’t have mentioned Mr. Friendly? Given Noah a heads-up?

“Here you go, sugar.” Lyla plopped down two plates of pancakes stacked high with melting butter. “Need anything else?”

A barf bag. Noah grabbed his stomach.

“We’re good. Thanks.” Abe pulled his plate closer and began slathering butter all over his pancakes. “You really didn’t know?”

“How would I know? Gracie hasn’t said a word.” Noah stabbed his knife into his pancakes. “And why isn’t this bozo helping her out if he’s so friendly and great?” Not that Noah wanted this bozo anywhere near Gracie.

“He had to leave town this week,” Abe said around a mouthful of pancakes. He wiped syrup off his lips with a napkin, then continued. “He’s a business owner. Runs some construction companies. Does a lot of traveling, I guess, to get the new projects up and running. At least that’s what Lizzy says. She knows a nurse at the hospital who’s good friends with the lady who plays organ every third Sunday at church. Personally, I think there’s more to him than meets the eye.”

Noah stopped hacking at his pancakes long enough to aim his knife at Abe. “What do you mean?”

Abe eyed the knife. “Can you at least put some butter on that utensil so this doesn’t feel quite as threatening?”

Noah dipped the knife to his plate, scooped up a glob of melting butter, then flung it at Abe’s face. “Better?”

“Much.” He cleaned off his buttery chin with a napkin. “I don’t know. Luke just has this look about him. A swagger. Like he’s a gunslinger with a mysterious past. You know, like that one movie about that one guy. Oh, what’s it called? Classic Western. The kid keeps yelling his name at the end. Shawn! Shawn! Come back!”

“You know why he didn’t come back? Because his name was Shane.”

“Ha!” Abe snapped his fingers with a laugh. “That’s right. Shane. Anyway, Luke reminds me a little of him. Only super nice. The women here all love him. Even Mona, and you know that’s saying a lot.”

That was saying a lot. Noah fiddled with his fork.

“But you want to know the real kicker? He’s rich. Yeah, apparently his business is doing great and he’s made quite a fortune for himself. But here’s the real real kicker—”

“How many kickers does one guy get?”

“He’s handsome too. At least that’s what the women say. I wouldn’t know. Just looks like a mysterious cowboy to me. But Lizzy claims he’s like our very own Sam Elliott. Without the mustache though. Which I really don’t get. How can he be Sam Elliott without the mustache?”

“No idea.” Noah didn’t even know who Sam Elliott was. But right now he was more concerned about Bozo Luke. “So will he be moving again because of his job?” Noah certainly hoped so.

“Good question. I’m guessing it depends on how friendly things get between him and Gracie—or if he needs to defend any homesteads from getting overtaken by bandits. What? I’ve been watching a lot of Westerns lately. I can’t help it.”

“Define friendly .”

“Oh, you know. Getting coffee. Going to movies. Chatting after church. Friendly stuff.”

Despite the nausea still swirling inside his gut, Noah dug into his pancakes. Forced a bite down. “Okay, fine. Friendly. But friendly doesn’t mean Gracie’s about to walk down the aisle again, does it?”

“For Buck, I think it does.”

“What’s Buck got to do with this?”

“Everything. You know how much she adores her dad. And he’s not doing so well.”

“What do you mean? I just talked to him the other day on the phone, and he sounded great.”

“Well sure, he has his good days. But a lot of bad days too. From what Lizzy says that the dietician at the hospital says, which she heard from one of the phlebotomists who hired Mona to sell her house last winter, his days are really getting numbered.”

A bite of pancakes lodged in Noah’s throat. He shoved it down with lukewarm coffee. Cleared his throat. He really needed to go visit that guy. Should’ve already. “Hate hearing that. He’s a good guy.”

“One of the best. In some ways Luke sort of puts me in mind of Buck. Which is why we all think Buck wouldn’t mind seeing Gracie end up with him. And why Gracie might be ready to walk down the aisle again soon if she thinks it’ll make her dad happy before he goes.”

Well, it sure wouldn’t make Noah happy. And he had a hard time believing it would make Buck happy. Or Gracie. Nobody should be happy about this.

Noah slid out from the booth and dropped some cash on the table. “Good seeing you, Abe. Give my best to Lizzy. And congratulations again.”

Abe pushed his empty plate away. “Thanks. I hope what I told you didn’t run you off.”

“Nah.” Noah scratched his scruffy cheek. “You know I don’t give up that easily.”

Abe grunted. “True enough. I’ve seen you fight for Gracie before. Just thought you should know you’re going to have a little stiffer competition this time. My heart wasn’t really in it back when we were competing.”

“Yeah, well...” Noah glanced around the diner. Not a whole lot had changed during his absence. Which gave him hope. If he won Gracie’s heart before, he ought to be able to figure out how to do it again. “Think I’ll go pay me a visit to Bobby.”

“Good thinking,” Abe said. “Gracie never did go for the facial hair as I recall. Pretty sure that’s what swayed her from me to you.”

Noah rolled his eyes. “I don’t think I’d call what you were growing facial hair. Maybe more like peach fuzz.”

“Do you want me on your side or not?”

Noah smirked and tapped Abe’s shoulder with his fist. “See you around, buddy.” Time for Noah to up his game. Which for now meant a shave and a haircut—and a whole lot of prayer.