Page 20 of Business Casual
It takes him a second, but three dots appear.
BECKETT:Next time tell me when you’re leaving. Dad wanted to send out a search party.
I snort. If anyone wanted to send out a search party, it was likely Beckett.
NOVA:No search party necessary. Vanessa stayed with me last night.
BECKETT:Figured. Alex said he saw the two of you get on the shuttle.
I’ll have to thank Alex, then.
A picture of Beckett’s cats appears on my phone in response, Comet and Prancer curled in tiny little balls of fluff on the edge of his couch. Beckett has adopted a fleet of animals in the past couple of years. It started with a family of cats he found in one of the barns. He quickly added two ducklings and a cow. He tried to adopt a raccoon, but Evie put her foot down.
I bring the phone to my nose. It looks like the cats are using my clutch as some sort of sleeping bag.
NOVA:That is criminally adorable. I don’t even want my purse back. They need it more than I do.
BECKETT:I was hoping it would soften you up.
I frown.
NOVA:For what?
NOVA:Is my phone fertilizer?
BECKETT:Nah. It’s with Charlie.
I throw my head back and groan at the ceiling. I’d splay face down on the floor if I had any confidence I could get back up again. Of course Charlie found it.
NOVA:Can he give it to you?
Immature? Maybe. But I have no intention of seeing Charlie for the next decade.
BECKETT:He said he’d drop it at Layla’s. She’ll be open tomorrow.
BECKETT:Or he says he can come drop it off for you if you need it today.
Over my dead body is Charlie Milford coming over to my house and standing on my front porch. No, thank you. I would rather pick it up from Layla’s bakehouse once he’s well on his way to New York. I can do without my phone for one day.
Sighing, I roll my neck.
NOVA:Bakehouse, please. And send me a picture of the ducks.
5
CHARLIE
The day isoff to an excellent start.
The sun is bright in a cornflower blue sky, the birds are singing, and Luka left the good coffee in the kitchen of the guesthouse. Stella is officially out of the country, which means she can stop texting me every seven minutes to ask if I’m sure I want to watch over the farm, and for the first time in years, there’s not a single pressing alert on my calendar.
I also have Nova’s cellphone in my back pocket. A guarantee that I’ll see her today.
Solid tens across the board.
I close the door behind me and step down the porch, dried grass crunching beneath my boots. The weather is just starting to change, summer releasing its grip for a freefall into autumn. The mornings are cooler, the colors brighter. Flocks of geese drift overhead in perfect formation, their calls echoing out across the fields.
I’m not used to this sort of commute. Pine trees in neat little rows instead of skyscrapers. A pumpkin patch instead of a half-naked cowboy strumming a guitar. While my brain usually has trouble with silence, I like it here. I can hear the soundtrack of this place when I listen for it. Wind whistling through the fields and the whisper of the branches as they sway gently back and forth. The rumble of a tractor somewhere in the distance.
