Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
There wasn’t any arguing with him on that one. “What time?”
“I’ll order pizza, so come by around seven.”
I slapped Hunter on the side of the arm. “Count me in.”
Picking up the ball, Hunter smiled at Jack. “Let’s load up, bud. Playtime’s over.”
Jack ran over to Hunter’s Explorer and stood at the back. Hunter opened the door and Jack jumped in. After he was loaded up, Hunter took off his coat and threw it onto the passenger seat.
“You need me to bring anything besides the normal six pack?” I asked.
“Nope, I’ll get the food, you guys bring the brew.”
“Sounds good. See you later. Be careful out there.”
He smiled. “Always am.”
After he shut the door and started the vehicle, I stepped out of the way and watched as he drove down the long drive. Then I walked over to the barn.
I stepped in, glanced around, and smiled. My mom was busy getting all the displays dusted and ready for opening day next week. Ken and my father were standing off to the side behind a large display, most likely hiding from Mom so they could drink what I already knew was spiked hot apple cider. My folks always came back to Boggy Creek in November and stayed through the first few opening weekends to help out. They both loved it, and it was an excuse to get out of Boston for a bit.
“Catherine Harris, do you never stop?” I asked as I approached my mother. She turned and gave me a warm smile. Her light brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, and she was dressed in her signature jeans and Wonderland Tree Farm long-sleeve shirt. I got my blond hair and blue eyes from my father’s side. As well as my tall frame. Even though my father was in his mid-50s, he was still a built motherfucker.
“I love keeping busy, you know that, Bishop,” my mother said.
Stopping in front of her, I leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I’d be lost without you, Mom. Thank you for doing this. The season crew starts next Wednesday.”
Her smile grew bigger. “You know how much I love opening day. I’m hoping this snow stays on the ground to give us that wintery Christmas feel. Puts people in the buying mood.”
I glanced out the window. “I think today is the last snow for at least the next six days.”
She laughed. “This is New Hampshire, Bishop. A snowstorm can pop up from someone sneezing.”
“What did you do to make Dad and Ken break into the spiked apple cider so early?”
With a quick look over at the two men, Mom rolled her eyes. “They’re hiding because I asked them to go get me two trees to put out so we can decorate them. Look at these adorable ornaments.”
I picked up a silver Christmas bulb, admiring its design. “Where did you order these from?”
“A company Abby had written down. I found her notebook last summer when I was digging through her desk.”
When I didn’t respond, Mom stopped what she was doing and looked at me. “Have you seen her yet?”
I nodded. “Twice.”
“And how did it go?”
“Not so great.”
“Mmm, I see. She called me, wanted to know if we could meet her for lunch sometime this week.”
I set the ornament back down in the box. “What did you say?”
“I said yes, of course. You certainly don’t expect us to turn our backs on her, do you?”
“Has she ever called you in the last two years?”
She lifted her chin. “As a matter of fact, yes. She always calls your father and me on our birthdays, and also on holidays.”
“Ha. And because of that, you’re willing to just open up your hearts again and welcome her home?”
Mom’s shoulders dropped as she brought her hand to her hip. She gave a little sigh and then took my hand. “Bishop, I’ve tried really hard to keep my mouth shut during all of this. Am I happy she up and left you—”
“Divorced me, Mom. She divorced me.”
With one quick nod, she went on. “Am I happy she left and then divorced you? Of course not. Your pain is mine, but her pain is also mine.”
I gritted my teeth for a moment, trying to keep my temper under control. “You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t really give a shit about her pain.”
“Bishop Harris,” my mother scolded. “I know I raised you better than that. I also know you lost a child that day, and I feel that pain with you too. But something tells me there’s a deeper issue here for Abby. Something caused that girl to run not only from the love of her life, but from her friends and family as well. You know Abby better than any of us. Does that sound like a woman who was in her right mind? To up and leave everyone and everything she loved?”