Page 15 of Fake It Till You Make It

“Amarie is a saint, a true saint I tell ya. Did you see the way Adele cozied up to her?”

“I noticed,” he deadpanned.

“Good thing you brought her on, Eli. She’ll help you right the ship. Make Levi proud.”

“Yep.” Eli ground his molars at the subtle dig. “Saint Amarie is heaven sent.”

“And all the way from Washington, D.C., to boot,” she hooted. “Can’t imagine leaving the big city to work with you. No offense, Eli.”

“None taken.” Plenty taken. He frowned, having learned more about his new receptionist/veterinary technician from his customer rather than personal disclosure.

“Well,” she laughed, lifting her pet carriage from the floor to place it on the counter, “business must be on the rebound. I was a bit worried when I saw you and your brothers were hiring yourselves out as gigolos.”

“What in the—”

“Lois!” His mom rushed forward, taking the soft pet carrier from the top shelf. “Let’s get Adele’s nails trimmed, so you can get home beforeThe Price Is Right.”

Service may be a small town, but rumors ran faster than a stray through an open door. He had to find reasons to hold his head high these days. These bachelor auction shenanigans added another weight to his load.

“Oh my,” she said, looking at the fadedArmy Strongclock he’d gifted his father five years ago. “Look at the time.”

Eli pushed away from the wall. “What you read in the bulletin was a misprint. Dad will be proud of all the improvements I have planned for Calvary Vet and the house. Don’t you worry none. We’ll be here when you need us.”

“That’s right. I’ll be sure to tell those downtown gossips to mind their own beeswax.”

The townsfolk referred to those higher up the mountainside like the Calvarys as uptowners. Main Street and thelargest of the homesteads were across Cattail Creek closer to the holler.

“You do that, Mrs. Kline.” Eli nodded, shuffling her along as fast as her orthopedic inserts would allow.

“Welcome to Service, Amarie,” she called over her shoulder.

“Thanks, Mrs. K.” His receptionist waved, her smooth arm extended high above her head.

Twenty-four hours on the job, and she was unduly familiar with the clientele. Strike one, day two. Eli didn’t like seeing that much skin on the job, either. The woman was a smiling, waving safety hazard.Painted toes and velvet soft arms, he scoffed. A laundry list of company policy addendums would have to be added. Drats, Amarie’s mere presence added more work to his, well, workload.

“Oh, I just love your posh accent,” Mrs. Kline chattered on. “So Rodeo Drive.”

Should Eli remind her Washington, D.C., was on the East Coast?

“Hate to disappoint you, Mrs. K. I’m not that fancy.” Amarie laughed.

“That ain’t what the purple BMW and the Louis Vuitton luggage says. I knew it had to be yours. All us mountain folks know better than to try to take these inclines in a luxury whip.”

What BMW? He hadn’t seen any designer suitcases. Amarie’s smile faltered. It was barely perceptible unless you were watching, and Eli was… vigilant.

“How long are you gonna be here in town?”

“As long as I need to be,” she said.

“I’d love to have you over for a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade. My homemade peach pie is the best in the county. Ask anybody.”

“I’ll let you know.”

Eli didn’t like that answer. He didn’t like uncertainty. He didn’t like change. Life required predictable patterns and hard facts. And Amarie had a bunch of question marks after her name. Like, what was she doing ringing his doorbell before eight o’clock in the morning and accepting a job that paid a dollar above minimum wage?

Crossing the room, he kept his eyes trained on Amarie as if she’d disappear. He split the aluminum blinds, the thin metal releasing a distinctive pop. Mrs. Kline’s 1976 gold Chevrolet Impala with matching carpet on the dash and his Ford pickup were in the parking lot. No purple beamer.

Eli turned and walked right up to the counter. The stranger he’d welcomed into their lives looked up at him, face drawn in trepidation.