Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)(7)

As I waited for the rain to stop, I took out my phone and made a list of things I had to accomplish in the next few days.

It was a long list.

It would have been much easier if I’d had more time, like the original plan. And it would have been easier if I’d had a partner to help, but nonetheless, it was my list and the only way to work my way down it was to start.

I found my radio in the garage, plugged it into an outlet in the living room, and opened all of the windows.

At only nine in the morning, I decided painting the laundry room was my first task. It was the smallest room to tackle, and if I could accomplish at least one whole room, it would be the momentum I needed to confidently attack the rest.

As I hauled out the old washer and dryer—which wouldn’t ever go back inside—and cleaned the floors and walls, I listened to the country music that filled my house.

Little by little, I saw progress, and little by little, I got excited.

If Wynne was anything like the people and places in the music on the radio, I had a lot to look forward to. No more looking back.





I was right. The books at the shop were even more screwed than I’d thought.

Why had he let it get so bad?

That morning Dad went to a farm sale with Dub, not to buy anything, but because they were both nosy like that. They’d poke around through the tools and parts, and stick around to see what someone’s old shit went for—all just to see what their crap at home was worth. I’d left right after he did, so I wasn’t worried about him asking me why I was working on a Sunday.

He hadn’t mailed anything out? or deposited anything for weeks. I was sure the account was messed up at the bank, but I’d deal with that on Monday. At the moment, my biggest concern was getting all of the invoices out and sorting through the payments we’d received that he hadn’t marked as paid. After I dug in, though, it wasn’t too confusing. It was like he just stopped doing it one day, so I started from there.

When I finished with the invoices, I went through all of the open purchase orders and noted some of them weren’t marked as received, but I knew that Dean could help me with that next week. I’d get those paid and we’d be fine.

It wasn’t a talk I wanted to have with my dad, but it was time he let me handle the billing. Also, it was a good time to get Dean into the habit of doing the ordering. We could use a new computer or two, and that would be an easy way to make my dad walk away from it.

Dad’s mechanical work was still great. Maybe he just needed a break from the other stuff. And let’s be honest, I had plenty of spare time at work to help him with bookkeeping. It just wasn’t until then I’d noticed he’d needed it.

He’d always taken care of everything. Looking back, I was thankful I had a dad who cared so much about me and always wanted me around.

It was only noon when I got out of there. I was relieved everything was straight, and even though we could always do better, the shop was doing great.

Before I headed home, I ran into the store to get what we needed for the week. I wasn’t sure what made me think of him, but Vaughn came to mind as I walked the aisles. That morning when I drove into town, I’d seen him carrying things into the house by himself. I wondered if he was alone, or if maybe his family was following him there. Though I didn’t think that was the case because I hadn’t seen a wedding ring on his hand when we were eating the night before.

I decided the neighborly thing to do was bring him a few things as I passed by on my way home.

It wasn’t much. Chips, some apples, bread, cheese, lunch meat, and water—just because it was the right thing to do. I didn’t have a clue if he’d eat any of it, so I grabbed a gallon of milk; at least I was sure he liked that. Then I added a candy bar for good measure. Who didn’t like chocolate?

I tossed the items in the cart with my things and made my way to the counter to check out.

I’m sure it’s the same in every small town. If you want to know celebrity gossip, then find a checkout line at your nearest grocery store. If you want to know the local gossip, you can usually find it in the same place.

Mindlessly, I looked at the cold drinks by the register and waited my turn. So it was totally coincidental and innocent when I overheard BethAnne and Rhonda, the cashier, discussing our new dentist. I didn’t gossip, but in Wynne, there was no way to avoid hearing it.

“I heard his fiancée left him right before they were supposed to move. Isn’t that sad?” BethAnne asked Rhonda with all the sincerity of a used car salesman. “And have you seen him yet?”

“That’s awful. I haven’t met him,” Rhonda said and continued to move things across the scanner.

“Well, my sister showed him the old Robinson house a few months back, when he was in town working everything out with Dr. Carver. She said he was fine, girl. I don’t know how old he is, but if he’s single and looking, I’m ready to be found.”

The two laughed and cackled, like I’d seen them do before, but when they noticed me they toned it down.

“Oh, hey, Mutt. How’s it going?” BethAnne inquired, her lipstick and teased hair still all a fluff from Sunday church.

“Goin’ good, and you?” I answered as I reached for the separator that silently said this shit is my shit and that shit is your shit and placed it in between my things and hers.