She grins. "Well, my sister is super bossy, and most of my brothers are too. So I appreciate having a nice girl around for a change," she says haughtily, giving me a wink and blowing me a kiss.
When Bartlett sees me, he lets out a low whistle that tells me everything I need to know. He takes my hand and gives me a kiss and makes sure I feel like I'm the most beautiful girl in the world. Hijinx is happy and asleep in the cabin, and Bartlett drives me into town.
Home Grown is a popup restaurant tucked next to the toy store. And, apparently, the space rotates into different establishments throughout the year. Everyone knows Bartlett when we enter, and they look me over, but they all give me warm smiles.
"I feel like they're staring," I say.
Bartlett whispers in my ear, his breath hot, warm, burning me up. "Of course, they're staring," he says. "You are the most beautiful woman in this place."
At the table with candlelight between us, he orders wine that is expensive and delicious, and we get steaks and mashed potatoes and green beans, and we eat until our hearts are content and our bellies are full and our eyes are glazed over with lust and desire and memories of the last 48 hours.
"I don't know what's happening," I murmur. "I think there's a spell on this town and it's been spun on me too."
"Is that a good thing?" he asks.
"It's a great thing," I say.
After dinner, he leads me down Snug Street and stops right in front of the Home History Museum.
"I got the keys," he said.
"What for?" I ask.
"Well, I thought I might tell you a little bit more about Home."
I smile as he opens the door and lets us inside.
"I told you. My ancestors started this town in 1910. They settled here, Homer and Annabel Rough, after they got married in 1909 in Seattle. They moved up here, found this mountain, and settled this land."
I smile, listening to him as we wander the museum. It's dark and romantic and quiet, and the night feels like ours in a way a night never has before. There are pictures on the walls that tell a story, that tell his story, and I feel like I'm going back in time. I hear about Welby Rough, who married Margaret.
"He's the one who was making the whiskey in his barn?"
"Legend has it," Bartlett laughs. "And he had a sister named Annie and another named Lucy. Though, Lucy disappeared in Oregon around 1935."
"You remember all this?"
He laughs. "Hey, I'm a family man. You should know that. Do you want kids?"
I nod. "I do," I say. "Do you?"
He laughs. "Yeah. Though, I wasn't thinking of seven."
"Me either," I say, "but a few."
"Same," he says with a smile. His hands are on mine, my heart bubbling up with want, with hope, as he continues to recite his family tree. "That's my grandfather, Reynold Rough, who married Rosie. They had Redford and Filson, brothers, who then each married a wife of their own. Red married Annie, and became my mom and dad, and Filson married Ruby."
"And where do your aunt and uncle live?" I ask him.
"Oh, they live on the mountain."
"They have any kids?" I ask.
"Yeah. Wyatt and Willa. They're a few years older than us, but neither of them are married."
"Interesting," I say. "And how did your parents meet?" I ask him.
He grins. "Now, that's a story for another day, and you'd have to ask them because my mom gets mad if any of us kids get it wrong."
"Okay," I say. "I can honor that. And if your whole family settled here, and if this whole family tree is your family history, what happens next for you?" I ask. "Does the line just continue?"
"Yeah," he says. His eyes find mine. “With the right woman, the family tree grows more branches, Abby.”
I swallow, feeling scared because I realize this – him – it’s all I want.
He must sense something stirring within me because he wraps me up in his arms, and he holds me tight. There isn’t any music playing, but we slow dance in that museum, imagining a life that has roots going deep in the town of Home.
11
Bartlett
A week with Abby and my life has changed.
She makes me feel like anything is possible. And that may sound corny, but only if you've never been in love.
"Love?" Lemon says, shaking her head at me. She's brought in muffins from Home Made, the bakery across the street, and hands me a blueberry one. "You can't be in love with someone after knowing them for a week. That's ridiculous."
I shrug. "When you know, you know."
"Have you told her this?" she asks me with a frown, eyes narrowed.
"Not yet, but I plan on telling her after family dinner this Sunday."
Lemon groans. "That's so romantic. Let me guess. You're going to take her out behind the house, up to the old treehouse, and point out a star, and–"
"Hey," I say. "That was my plan."
"Oh, my God," Lemon says. "You are such a boy."
"I was trying to be romantic," I say.
She laughs. "Well, I think it's ridiculous."
"I just think you're jaded. Why aren't you more optimistic?" I ask. "If memory serves me correctly, your best friend, Juniper, met her husband, Jacob, in the most random way in Alaska not even two months ago."
Lemon takes a giant bite of her muffin to avoid answering my question. I laugh. "Exactly," I say. "When they came home for Christmas, I don't think I've ever seen two people more in love in my life. They were all heart eyes and lovey-dovey. It was cute. And Juniper deserves to be happy. That girl has had a hard life and Jacob makes her happy."
"True," Lemon says. "I am happy for Juniper and Jacob, and they are happy together. Happy, happy, happy.” She groans. “But that's one in a million. What are the chances of you falling in love equally as fast just one month later? Not statistically possible."
"You're not even good at math, woman," I tease as Plum comes into the store with her dad, Rueben.
"Hey," Rueben says with a smile. "What are you joking about?"
"Oh, I'm just giving our big brother here a hard time," Lemon says, wrapping her arms around Plum. "He thinks he's in love."
"With Abracadabra," Plum says with a grin.
"Abraca-what?" Lemon asks.
I press a finger to my lip. "Shh," I say. "That was our secret, Plum."
Plum giggles. "Sorry, Uncle Bart. But I have big news," she says.
"What's the news?" Lemon asks.
"The circus is coming to town," Plum says, jumping up and down. "Look." She shows us a flyer and sure enough the Big Top Circus is coming to town this weekend. Today is Thursday.
My stomach drops.
"What kind of circus performs in the middle of winter?" Rueben asks. "Kind of weird, right?"
This is more than weird. This is downright messy.
"Well," Lemon says, looking at the flyer more closely, "they're setting up at the Burly Fairgrounds. That's under cover and heated. That makes more sense. Are you guys going to go tomorrow?" she asks Rueben.