He wanted to believe she was wrong. What difference could it make? Flowers were flowers. But something deep down told him it was important, like Rae said. Maybe they could order a bouquet with so many different kinds of flowers, one was bound to be her favorite.
“We’ve still got time,” Rae continued. “Think about it and let me know.”
The concern on her face made him nervous. He nodded. “I’ve got to get Daisy home.”
He climbed in the truck and leaned an arm out the open window. It’d been warm lately, and he’d discovered the cab could get a little, er, aromatic if he left it shut up when it was sitting in the sun. He’d never noticed the smell before. Had it always been this strong? He started the truck.
“See you soon, Gerrit,” Rae said with a grin.
He gave a half smile in return, then shifted the Dodge into drive and hit the gas.
David waved and called over the roar of the engine, “Nice to meet you.”
Gerrit pretended not to hear the boy as he drove off.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
Gerrit shaded his eyes with his hand. The sun shone bright and cheerful. The temperature was warm but not too warm. If only this weather would hold through Monday afternoon. He wanted the party to be perfect.
Given all the things he’d messed up in his life, maybe that was asking too much. Regardless, he had to try. For Evi and Noah. For Hannie.
After putting a pork roast in the Crock-Pot—what a great invention that was, right?—he’d spent all morning and afternoon cleaning up the yard. He’d mowed, trimmed bushes, even wiped down the outside of the windows on the first floor. Daisy had loved every minute of it, rolling in the grass and chasing butterflies.
He put the last of the tools away in the shed at the back of his property and pulled off his work gloves. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and his stomach grumbled. The smell of the roast through the open kitchen window had been driving him crazy for the past two hours, but Hannie would be home any minute. He would wait. Besides, she usually came home a little early on Tuesdays.
He wiped his face with his sleeve and called for Daisy. When she popped out from the rhododendron bush near the mailbox, he remembered he hadn’t checked the mail yet. He trudged down the driveway, muscles stiff and tired, and paused in the shade of the pony barn. He’d talked to Luisa about going through the boxes in there, about showing her Luke’s old pictures.
Dust mites danced through the rays of light when he cracked open the barn door. No matter how vibrant the air was outside, how much was going on, inside the barn was always still. Undisturbed by the world going on around it, as if frozen in time. And maybe it was. Frozen in a moment of joy and expectancy. He could almost hear Luke’s laugh as he stepped back for a good look and said, “We did it.” Could almost feel Luke’s hand slap him on the shoulder for a job well done. See the twinkle in Luke’s eye as he shouted that they should celebrate.
Those weren’t memories. Those were pieces of him. He shut the door. The boxes weren’t going anywhere.
A cacophony of bangs and whirs and squeals shot over the fence from George’s oversized garage. Gerrit scowled in that direction as he continued toward the mailbox. George had hardly missed a minute of his children’s lives, running a business from his own shop. All that custom furniture and whatnot. Mr. Skilled Craftsman. Mr. Father of the Year. Mr. Soon-to-Be Grandpa. He didn’t have to count the money left in his savings account as if it were years left in his life.
Gerrit’s neck muscles tightened. What kind of man stole another man’s birthright and then called the cops on his rooster? He glanced around but saw no one except Daisy. Edging closer to the fence, he took a good look at the trees between the two properties. There were some on both sides, and a couple of the oldest ones branched out over property lines.
He rubbed his chin. That cottonwood there on George’s side, it had seen better days. Some of the branches looked dead and reached their wooden fingers awfully close to George and Agatha’s RV. One big windstorm and that RV could be in danger, especially if those dead branches had been tampered with.
He leaned over the fence, peering up at the tree. No, he couldn’t. Not that he wouldn’t love to see George’s RV crushed by a cottonwood, but—
“What are you doing?”
He spun around, his shirt snagging on the top board of the fence. “Oh, hi. I didn’t hear you pull up.” He hoped his face didn’t look as sheepish as he felt.
Hannie eyed him with suspicion through the open window of her Toyota. He walked alongside as she pulled up next to his truck, parked, and got out of the car.
“You’re up to something.” She studied his face, glancing over at George’s house once or twice. “Am I going to be getting a call from Agatha?”
Gerrit huffed. “No.”
Hannie shook her head. “Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?”
He kept his mouth shut.
Daisy ran around Hannie’s legs, making her laugh. “Hello, sweet Daisy.”
Gerrit looked back at George’s shop one more time.
Hannie peeked at him from the corner of her eye. “Evi called me today.”
Oh no. She had canceled. She was probably moving out of the country. She never wanted to speak to him again.
“She was wondering if Travis could come to the party, too.”
Oh. That.
“Travis? Who’s Travis?” As if he didn’t know.
“The boy she’s been seeing. I’ve only met him once, but it must be serious if she’s talking about bringing him here.”
He looked at the ground and shook his head. He didn’t want to meet Travis.
“I told her it was up to you since it’s your party.”
Oh, great. Now he’d be
