Page 133 of Thirst For Me
He chuckles. “Yes. That’s what I meant.”
“Uh-huh. What the heck did Tommy say to her?”
Over the past few weeks, Mason and I have met with June, several times. She definitely seems impressed that I came back toOrchard Cove. That I’m putting down roots here with Mason, that we’re planning our wedding and even invited her to come. And that we’re so damn set on wanting to partner with her, to contribute to the future of Orchard Cove together.
But there’s still that missing piece, and no matter how much ground we seem to gain with June, grumpy old Tommy, unfortunately, seems to hold that piece.
“I don’t know,” Mason says, and I deflate. “He wouldn’t tell me.”
“Ugh! That is so not what I wanted to hear. I want gossip!”
His eyebrow lifts. “Youarefrom a small town.”
I smack his chest lightly.
“I did go by June’s to thank her, after my grandpa gave me the news,” he offers. “And she did say, ‘You and Sara will have nice kids together.’”
“Aww, June! She’s such a romantic,” I joke. “I love the way she pretends to forget my name when she’s irritated. Do you think he told her that he loves her, and nowthey’llget married?”
“Uh, no.”
“Oh. Bummer.”
“But I guess whatever he said must’ve been enough? Maybe he finally apologized like she wanted him to.”
“A good apology can go a long way.” I smile, so he knows I mean the way he followed me to the city and apologized for letting me go.
“Whatever he said, though ... I think it was about this.” Mason pulls out his phone and shows me a photo onscreen.
It’s in black and white. A young woman stretched out on the long, swooping bough of a twisted tree.
A tree that looks very much like the one on the secret path.
I touch the screen, spreading my fingers to enlarge the photo, zooming in on the woman’s face. She has long, straight, light-colored hair, and a sort of Mona Lisa smile.
“Is that . . . June?”
“Yup. Juniper Spencer, circa 1970-something, if I had to guess. I think what we’re looking at is the original twisted tree.”
“Really? No!” I don’t know why I’m so excited right now. But it feels like we’re peeking into a secret from the past.
“I just assumed Twisted Tree was named after that big plum tree by the gate that’s been there all my life. But those plum trees only live thirty years or so, max. Maybe forty. There must’ve been older trees there that died before the current ones grew.”
“Wow. Where did you get this photo?”
“That, Sierra, is the best part. I took a snapshot of this photo when I was in my grandpa’s living room today.” He tucks his phone away, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It was in aframe. On hiswall.”
“No.”
“Oh, yes. You and Layne were right that there’s something going on there. When I asked Grandpa about the photo, he grumbled at me and stomped out.”
“Oooh. Interesting . . .”
“All I know is that it wasn’t hanging there before. Like, two days ago when I was in there. I think whatever he said to June last night, if he apologized or whatever ... she gave him that photo in response.”
“Oh, god. Can Ipleasemeddle? Pretty please?” I bounce on my toes, leaning on his chest. “I don’t really consider myself a meddler, but Ineedto meddle in this. How beautiful would it be if those two old grumps got over themselves and professed their undying love for one another?”
Mason groans. He wraps his arms around me and tucks me under his chin, kisses the top of my head.
