“All right, then. Be right back.”
Leaving the food truck area, I make my way to the original Watchful Wanderers store, the place I spent most of my time growing up. The wood porch creaks under my feet, and the familiar scents of pine and dirt fill me up as I pull the brass door handle.
Since it’s early, there aren’t many people milling about, which gives me time to take in the store from the entrance. Extremely outdated, the log walls have an orange tint to them, the maple floors have seen better days, and the clothing racks are one windstorm from being blow over. But it still feels like home despite how unpolished it looks.
“Hey, Ford,” Kevin says as he walks up to me. “Didn’t know you were in town.” Kevin is the original store’s manager and an avid outdoorsman. His knowledge of products and safety by far exceeds anything I know.
“Hey, Kevin.” I give his hand a shake. “Here to celebrate Mom and Dad for the anniversary party.”
“I didn’t think that was for a few weeks.”
“Yeah, decided to come early. We’re working on some business things.”
“Oh?” Kevin asks. “Hopefully good things.”
“Very good things,” I answer and then nod to the back. “Think I could grab some coffee?”
“As if you need to ask. Help yourself.”
I head toward the back while taking in all the gear we have for sale. I hate to admit it, but even though the store feels like home, I’ve never felt more out of place. I should know what that stick thing is over there, but I have no idea. And that round object with the pointy things . . . yeah, no clue. And what about that net? Is that for a bear? It’s huge!
Shaking my head, I find the coffeepot, pour two to-go cups. Add the right amount of creamer and sugar for Larkin and then head back out to the front, where Larkin is sitting on the curb under an oak tree. The food is in boxes on her lap, and she’s wearing an excited smile.
“Do we sell nets to catch bears?” I ask.
“What?” She laughs out loud. “No. Why do you ask?”
I jab a thumb toward the store. “There was a net back there that looked like it could catch a bear.”
She chuckles some more. “You are so hopeless, Ford. Didn’t your dad ever take you fly-fishing?”
I shake my head. “Weirdly, we didn’t do a lot of outdoor stuff because we were always running the store, and when we did get some time away, the last thing Mom wanted to do was anything outdoorsy.”
I take a seat next to her and hand her a coffee while she hands me my take-out box.
“I guess that makes sense,” she says, taking a sip. “I’ve taught you well. This coffee’s perfect.”
Once we’re settled, Larkin pushes her hair behind her ear, showing the heart shape of her jaw. “So tell me everything. What happened last night?”
I cut up a piece of waffle and stab my fork through it. “I could feel the tension the minute I walked in the house. Palmer and Cooper were already ragging on each other, while Mom and Dad sat there oblivious. Dinner was pretty good, though. We caught up. Cooper spoke about a nonfiction book he’s been working on that’s putting him to sleep. Palmer didn’t say much about work at all, and when I considered mentioning the store rebrand, Cooper changed the subject to some kangaroo-boxing video he watched that had no purpose whatsoever.”
“That’s odd, why would he do that?”
I shove a large piece of waffle in my mouth to avoid answering right away. I haven’t told anyone about what happened. Partly because I’m ashamed and partly because I don’t want Cooper to feel any more embarrassed than he probably does.
I swallow and stare down at my stretched-out legs. “About two months ago, Cooper approached me about possibly helping with the rebranding after Dad clued him in on what we were doing.”
“He did?” Larkin asks with a confused expression. “I wasn’t aware.”
“I didn’t tell anyone. Not even our parents.”
“I’m assuming the conversation didn’t go well.”
I scratch the side of my jaw. “I love my brother, you know that, and I’d do anything for him, but he has a track record of showing interest in something and then having zero follow-through. Like the time he wanted to help Dad work on a new layout for the store. He started mapping things out but then just dropped it all when he met Dealia. Or the time I asked him to help me edit an investor booklet. He said of course, but two weeks went by and nothing. Or his attempt at becoming an author . . . he hasn’t had the best of luck at achieving things he puts his mind to. He’s already sensitive, and I didn’t want him to have another failure under his belt. I’m not sure he’d be able to handle it.”
Larkin listens intently like she always does. There’s no doubt she’s the easiest person I’ve ever talked to and the person I usually go to when I have a problem, business or personal. I shouldn’t talk to her about personal things, I know that’s crossing the line, but she isn’t just an assistant to me—she’s a friend. And that’s information I keep close to my chest. Despite crossing the line, because she’s naturally a good friend, I need to try to keep things as professional as possible, even though I lean on her hard when it comes to personal things . . . I can’t help it.
“And I know that makes me look like an ass,” I say, moving my fork around my food, a nervous habit I tend to do when I’m uncomfortable. “You know, the fact is that I’m betting on my brother to fail before he even has a chance to, but I have to at least try to protect him from himself.”
“Does this feeling you have, the need to protect him, circle back to his divorce and what happened with Dealia?”
“Yes,” I answer honestly. “From the beginning I knew they weren’t going to last, but I never said anything. I just . . . I saw how they differed, how she wanted more, and I knew he wasn’t going to be brave enough to leave his circle and make it happen. He’s always been cautious despite the grand plans he has in his head. I was afraid the same thing was going to happen with the rebranding. That it would be another instance where he has these ambitions but never does anything with them. I couldn’t take the chance.” I take a sip of my coffee, letting the hot liquid burn down my throat. “It was obvious Cooper wanted nothing to do with talking about the store last night.”
“Which is understandable—it must be a raw topic for him.”
“I’m assuming it is, but we haven’t talked about it since. And then when we were having dessert, Mom and Dad broke the news to us that they plan on selling the house and we have a month to say goodbye to our childhood home. And”—I let out a sigh—“we’ll have to clean out our rooms.”
“What?” Larkin sits taller. “They’re selling? Why?”
“They said the house is too big for just them, which I can understand. It’s large, but I have a cleaning service come by every week. The yard is taken care of every week too. I’m not sure if it’s an issue with the house being too big or if the house is too lonely.” I can understand what lonely feels like. Being in Denver, I can understand having a space that feels so empty, and not wanting to be there all the time. But at least that’s something I put on myself. My parents didn’t ask for this loneliness, and that breaks my heart.