“I don’t mind.” He scooped up the jar.
She held out her hand. “No, you’re right. I took it off the shelf. I should put it back.”
“You’re in a hurry.”
“Not really—”
“I just assumed, since you were leaving it here.” He gestured at the chip shelf with the jar of minced garlic.
“Give me the garlic.” Her fingers flexed. “Please.”
I shouldn’t be enjoyingthis so much. It was getting harder not to smile. “I’m headed to the spice aisle next—”
“Oh, Tansy, let the boy put it back.” Camellia was glancing between the two of them. “Thank you, Dane.” Did he hear laughter in her voice? He wasn’t sure. With a shake of her head, Camellia Hill was headed down the aisle, around the corner and out of sight.
Tansy stared at the jar of garlic in his hand.
“You’re welcome.” He put the jar in his cart and steered around her, whistling cheerfully. As tempting as it was, he didn’t look back when he reached the end of the aisle. He was curious, though. Was she cursing him silently or gesturing rudely after him, or had she already moved on and forgotten him? Didn’t matter. Instead, he turned and headed toward the spice aisle.
“What’s the deal?” Leif said.
Dane did a double take. “Where did you come from?”
“End of the aisle.” Leif nodded after Tansy, looking confused. “What’s her deal?”
He’d been wondering the same thing for the last decade or so. “She needed garlic advice.”
“Really?” Leif ran a hand over his longish blond hair and sighed. “I thought you might be into her.”
“Into?” He tried to chuckle but it stuck in his throat. “Nope.” He turned down the spice aisle. “No way.”
“Yeah. Okay.” Leif glanced at him and then pointed at the shelf.
“Thanks.” He replaced the garlic and eyed the mostly empty cart. “So, we’re living on Fruity O’s cereal and beef jerky this week?” By now, he should be better at this. Sitting down and planning out a week’s worth of meals wasn’t rocket science. With the push to have the event space ready in under three weeks, he couldn’t be driving back and forth for takeout, and since Leif couldn’t drive yet, that meant less eating out and more cooking. Since his father’s post-divorce self-exile at his hunting cottage had just started, Dane and Leif would be on their own for a couple of weeks—if this divorce followed the same pattern as the previous two, that is. Even though he and Leif were pretty low-maintenance, cereal and beef jerky wasn’t going to cut it.
With a sigh, he wheeled the cart around to the first aisle. “Let’s start here.”
Leif mumbled something and trailed along but his focus rarely strayed from his phone. “Getting some beef jerky,” he mumbled and walked off before Dane could respond.
Dane headed to the fresh produce aisle and then the butcher counter, hoping he’d feel more inspired. Van Kettner gave Dane a wave from his spot behind the glass-fronted butcher counter.
“How do, Dane. What can I get for you?”
Dane scanned the contents of the case, then shrugged. “Whatever I can throw on the grill without screwing up.”
Van chuckled. “Well, now, I’ll see what I can find.” He opened the case. “How’s your father holding up?”
Dane shrugged. “Not so great.” Van was a good guy, the sort of guy people talked to. He was like Nicole Svoboda over at the beauty parlor. They both knew everyone else’s business but neither were inclined to gossip.Though Van doesn’t have Nicole’sbrightly colored hair or tattoos.He tried to picture Van with blue hair instead of silver but couldn’t do it.
“Well, I know folks can be mean.” Van gave him a long look. “But the truth always comes out.”
Dane shook his head. “Which truth are we hoping will come out? So far, I’ve heard my father has a mistress. That Leif is on drugs. That I’m on drugs. That my father is on drugs. Or Dad’s an alcoholic. Or both? Or, my personal favorite, that I slept with my father’s now ex-wife.” He and his father could take it, but Leif? He was worried about his little brother. Rumors took root and spread quickly in a small town.
“Well, now. I hadn’t heard all of that nonsense.” Van frowned. “I don’t abide by that sort of talk.” He rested a hand on the counter. “And spreading it? Why that just makes it ten times worse. As far as I can tell, and you’ll pardon me if I’m speaking out of turn here, you’re better off without her and her trouble. Causing it and stirring it up.”
Dane didn’t need to ask which “her” Van was referring to. Kate, his father’s most recent ex-wife, had been causing plenty of trouble and hadn’t tried to pretend otherwise. Considering he’d been a grade below Kate in school, he’d known exactly who his father was marrying. But all his warnings had fallen on deaf ears—his father had been too blinded by her doting attention and movie-star good looks.But pretty packaging couldn’t make up for rotten insides.It was one of the sayings Poppa Tom Hill had dispensed, one of many. Dane had never forgotten that one.
Van patted the counter before saying, “Everett Taggert talk to you yet? He was looking for you.”
