Trouble (Dogwood Lane #3)(29)

Harper nods. “It is. And she’s just as cute. You’d love her. Anyway, her boyfriend, Trevor, and his family are a bunch of wealthy do-gooders around here. Great people. They’re doing something with kids down at the old library, and I thought you could help out. Meredith, that’s Trevor’s stepmom and the brains and moneybags behind the project, said they need an artist.”

I laugh. “I’m not an artist.”

“You’ll do fine. She said it would just take a couple of weeks—no big deal. I told her I’d send you her way this morning if you were interested. You could just meet her and see what she’s doing. I didn’t commit you to anything.”

I curl a leg up under me and watch Harper mess with a broken fingernail. This time yesterday, Penn was walking through the door. “Here comes trouble,” Harper said.

She doesn’t even know how right she was.

I yawn again. “What’s she like?”

“Who? Meredith?”

“Yeah.”

“She’s married to a retired, big-shot attorney from Nashville. They bought some land up here a couple of years ago and built a huge, and I mean huge, house on top of the hill out there. In the fall when the leaves drop, you can see it. It’s pretty incredible.”

“I think I know the spot,” I say. “I was trying to get to the lake yesterday . . . Anyway, long story. But the point is, I think I turned around in their driveway, because I can’t imagine two houses here that are that big.”

Harper laughs and goes back to her fingernail. “That was probably it. You know, Penn, Matt, and Dane built that . . .”

She lets her voice trail off to create an opening for me to poke around. When I don’t, she looks up at me.

“What?” I ask.

“Oh, nothing. Anyway, Meredith is nice. You’ll like her. She has a lot of energy.”

I glance up at the clock. We’ve been open for ten minutes, and not a soul has called or come in. It’s so odd to me. The old salon I worked at would’ve been swamped already.

While the idea of hanging out here with Harper and cutting a walk-in or two really doesn’t bother me, I need to not take this laid-back lifestyle too far.

“Should I go now?” I ask. “Or wait until lunch, or what?”

“Just go now. I have a couple of appointments this morning. If anyone walks in, they can wait.”

“You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay.” I grab my purse and the container of yogurt I brought for breakfast. “Where do I go?”

“The old library. Do you know where that is? Down past Buds on the right. The Kellys bought the building after the city closed down the library.” She laughs at the memory. “Then they bought the flower shop and combined it with the library. Told you she was energetic.”

I laugh. “Sounds like it.” My purse goes over my shoulder. “If you need me, just call or text. I can be right back.”

“I got this covered.”

“Thanks for the hookup,” I say.

Harper’s eyes sparkle. It causes my stomach to rattle around.

“What are you not telling me?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I don’t know. That you look pretty today?”

“You’re up to something. I feel it.”

“Oh, I know!” Harper gets up and heads to the cabinets by the mini fridge. A spoon comes sailing my way. “Take this so you don’t wear that yogurt.”

I snag the spoon out of the air. “You don’t have enough faith in me.”

“I think I have more faith in you than you do.”

I pull a face that makes her laugh. “I’ll be back once I meet Meredith and see what this thing is all about.” Turning toward the door, I stop. A flutter kicks up in my stomach. I look over my shoulder to see Harper grinning. “Why are you smiling?”

She plays dumb.

“Harper . . . ,” I warn.

“Go. Shoo. Tell Meredith I said hi.”

I furrow my brow and turn to the door again.

“Tell Penn hi, too, if you happen to see him,” she calls out.

I turn around, launch the spoon at her, much to her delight, and then leave.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

PENN

I’m pulling up right now.” I steer my truck into the parking lot of the old library. “You owe me for this, you know.”

“I know,” Dane says on the other end of the phone. “I really do. Here, Mia wants to say something to you.”

The phone gets scratchy as he passes it to his daughter. I pop the truck into park and rest back against the seat.

The brick building that once housed the Dogwood Lane Library sits in front of me. There are a couple of cars in the mostly vacant parking lot, and the front door is propped open with an overturned bucket.

“Penn,” Mia singsongs. The static makes me think we’re on speakerphone. “You are my hero.”

I grin. “How are ya, Mia?”

“Good. On our way to Florida. Have you ever been there?”

“Once the year after I graduated high school. It was a good time—”

“That’s enough,” Dane shouts. “Move this conversation along.”