“What?” my sisters and I asked in unison. My father stood there proudly as if it had been his plan all along. “Why don’t you all just buy it instead of giving the money to Autumn?” Rory chimed in.
“That. . . all of it. . .was what she’s meant to do. Autumn, you lit up when you spoke about it. That’s your dream and I’m going to make sure that you have it. I’d do it for any of you,” she emphasized as she gave a look at each of us. “So, let’s all cross our fingers that it pans out the way we hope.
“Now, tell us more about the bed-and-breakfast idea,” Mom added as she began swooping up the papers, settling the vase with the single sunflower back into the center from where Alex had nonchalantly moved it out of the way in her haste.
I still didn’t understand her reasoning, but knowing my parents, they probably had something up their sleeves.
“Where did this flower come from?” Aspen asked curiously, her fingers reaching out to touch the delicate petals.
Mom chimed in before I could respond. “Autumn met a man in town today and he gave it to her.”
In less than two seconds, the house filled with the chatter of four girls bickering and nagging each other like we had when we were teens.
“I will say it one more time!” I shouted to be heard above everyone. They kept prattling away, ignoring me. “He is not my boyfriend!”
“Autumn and mystery man sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G,” they sang at my expense. I was surprised my ears didn’t bleed from how off-key they sounded.
That was my parents’ plan all along. . .to fill the house with the sound of love.
Chapter Five – Colton
Glancing over at the bouquet of flowers nestled on the leather of my passenger seat, I huffed out a chuckle and shook my head, remembering the interaction with the woman at the store. At first, I thought she’d recognized me and it put me on edge. It wouldn’t have been the first time someone faked running into me to get my attention. Hell, it was how my last girlfriend and I met. Only difference was we were at a coffee shop and she spilled her piping hot liquid down my shirt and pants, which she thoroughly patted dry. She was now dating the newest captain of the New York Renegades. Once I announced my retirement, she went in search of the newest and brightest star with the biggest bank account. But that was after she tried to take me to the cleaners with fake news stories about infidelity and a penchant for prostitutes.
Maybe it was me. Maybe I caused women to trip over themselves to get my attention.
“Yeah, right,” I mumbled under my breath.
Not a single woman gave me the time of day until I hit college, when I finally grew into my long limbs and packed on fifty pounds of muscle. Hockey required a lot of energy and muscle. Growing up, I had the energy in spades and I used that to my advantage because I was lacking extra muscles. The foster mom that introduced me to the sport of hockey said I looked like a walking stick bug on blades. But she’d also said I was a natural on the ice and that I had the spirit of a player.
Moving around the way that I did, there were years I missed being a part of a team, but when I tried out in college as a red shirt, without ever playing a single official game, I made the second string. And earned a scholarship for my remaining years.
The rest was history.
I wondered what the history was of the woman that ran into me. She gave off a very confident and self-assured air, but when she looked up at me, I saw that it was just that – a façade. There was a girl underneath that seemed just as lost as I was. A girl that seemed to spark something inside me I hadn’t felt before. She was an enigma that I wanted to solve and keep for myself. I already felt protective of her and I didn’t know her from the man working the register. And I could see the hint of attraction in her gaze as her eyes swept over me.
The feeling was mutual.
When I tracked her down and handed her the flower, I considered asking for her number as well, but she’d been spooked enough. I knew coming on strong, as I was known to do, would be too overwhelming.
Maybe I’d see her again in this Podunk town. That was something I could look forward to at least.
I glanced down at the directions again, refreshing my memory before pulling out of the parking lot and finishing the remainder of my journey to Brett’s house. People still milled about the town, walking in and out of shops. I noticed a couple of bars and signs for restaurants across the fifteen or so blocks on Main Street. There were clearly more businesses between the alleys and within the second and third rows of buildings.
They seemed more eclectic than I originally thought. I saw signs for every kind of ethnic food I could imagine, and stores ranged from yarn and books to crystals and, I had to do a double take as I passed, witchcraft.
Well, I wasn’t going to be bored, that was for sure. I’d have to check out the bookstore the next time I came to town. Despite what people thought about athletes, a lot of us had the brains to back up the brawn. Reading was one of my favorite ways to relax.
The truck continued on its way, leaving the nestled confines of the town and back into the wide expanse of fields and mountains. As we proceeded, the road wound more than it had when we were closer to the interstate. I slowed down since I was unfamiliar with the area and didn’t want to cut a turn too sharply.
Just as another right angle turn came up on the road, a truck drove into view. Its large frame was coming toward me and taking on the entire lane. As quickly as I could muster, I pulled off into the ditch to give the approaching vehicle ample room.
“Shit,” I cursed as the driver barely missed clipping my own truck.
“Sorry!” the voice called out from their window as they passed with a friendly hand wave.
My fingers shook as I shoved them through the strands of my hair while I took deep, heaving breaths. This drive was going to be the death of me.
I maneuvered the truck back onto the road and took the turn as slowly as possible. Someone really needed to come out and straighten that turn, or at least cut back the hill obstructing the view. I wondered how many accidents occurred in that same spot.
Just as I came around the bend, my eyes fixated on a stately home perched on the top of a hill in disrepair. It was in dire need of someone to bring it back to life. I slowed as I approached the home and turned onto the dirt path that seemed to lead toward it.
The truck ambled along, jostling with every pothole and divot that the tires sank into. It was bouncing uncontrollably by the time I reached the front yard of the place.
Leaving the ignition running, I stepped out and looked up at the front fascia. There was something familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I stared up at her rotting columns and then stepped closer to the front. The main porch was in good shape. It appeared that someone had replaced the boards in the last ten years or so. They were weathered, but not warped. I glanced up toward the bottom of the second-story porch and made the same assessment.
The windows on the first floor were all boarded up, and when I delicately stepped across the porch, the doorknob didn’t budge. Locked.
Twisting to look over my shoulder, I made sure no one was watching. I didn’t want to be front page news for trespassing on abandoned property.
Casually, I made my way around to the back of the house, surprised to find a sunroom that was also boarded up just like the remaining windows. At a closer inspection, I could tell that the plywood was fairly new, as in the last year or so. It was clear someone came by frequently to check on the building.
From the top step leading to the sunroom, I gazed out at the expansive yard. It was a gorgeous landscape that needed just as much love as the home, but the potential was there. It was clear a garden sat along the eastern side of the property and there was enough room for a personal skating rink or a large pool along the backside of the flat space. Further than that the land sloped down to the rest of the field.
The house sat on a natural pedestal overlooking the property. It was obvious the home was old and most likely built by hand. Why would someone abandon such an impressive home?
I walked around the other side of the house, moving tree limbs out of my way as I went. The old oak trees surrounding the property reminded me of New York.
That was when it struck me. The house was familiar because it resembled the first foster home I moved to. The one where I learned to play hockey. It wasn’t nearly as large, but it had the two porches and similar features.
