Perfect Secret by Molly McLain
Chapter 21
ALANA
The next three days pass in a complete fog. Between the market and the gossiping customers, my calls with Marty’s nephew and planning a funeral, I didn’t even realize it was Tuesday afternoon until Holden called Susie in to close up and demanded I punch out.
“But I have so much to do,” I protest as he hands me my purse and slings my backpack over his shoulder. “I have payroll to finish and the rodeo is this weekend and everyone will be coming to pick up their orders…”
“Alana,” he says firmly, while gently but purposefully steering me toward the back of the store. “You haven’t slept or eaten more than a container of yogurt in two days. I’m feeding you and putting you to bed, and you will not argue with me about it. Do you understand?”
“But who’s going to—”
“Susie is capable of handling the store and the orders, and between Hallie and Emma, payroll will be taken care of, too. You’re officially off the clock for at least the next few days.”
“Days?” I shout. Or I think it’s my voice anyway. My head is pounding so loud, it’s hard to say.
Holden stops at the bottom of the stairs that lead to our apartment and grasps my shoulders. “Babe, if you don’t stop and take care of yourself, Marty’s won’t be the only funeral in Mason Creek this week.”
“Oh.”
“Uh huh. Now come on, let’s get you upstairs.”
The next thing I comprehend is Holden pulling a sheet over me in bed. Sun still shines through the window, but I’m in my pajamas and my belly no longer feels like it’s eating itself.
“Lie down with me?” I whisper, and he nods.
The last thing I remember is burying my face in his chest and finally letting myself cry.
* * *
“He loved you like a daughter,”Tucker Simms says when it’s his turn in the receiving line after the funeral on Wednesday. “He used to come into the auto shop just to shoot the shit, and he always talked about what a good job you were doing with the store. Said he would have sold the place years ago if it hadn’t been for you.”
“Thank you, Tucker.” I give him a hug, knowing he meant his words to be comforting. He couldn’t possibly know that they’re actually the very last ones I want to hear today. Or ever.
“How are you doing, sweetie? Can I get you something to drink?” My mom sneaks into line while Sadie’s parents share their sympathies with Dalton and his wife Brittany.
“No, I’m good, but thank you.” Only a handful of people remain in the line and then I’ll have a few minutes to regroup before we head to the cemetery and then the traditional funeral potluck at the town hall.
Holden rubs circles on my back and leans down to press a kiss to my temple. “You’re doing great, babe. Just a couple more hours to go.”
“Yeah,” I squeak out, but the truth is, I’m not sure I’ll feel any better in a couple hours. I’m not sure I’ll feel better in a week or even a month.
Dalton and Brittany want to sell the Mason Creek Market. They told me as much this morning when they arrived from Idaho. They have two middle school children and a business of their own, and they don’t have time or interest in owning a grocery store a whole state away.
Which means there’s a chance I could be out of a job before too long. I can’t afford to buy the store and there’s no guarantee that whoever does will want to keep me on.
Oh, and… I’m probably going to have to find a new place to live. So, there’s that, as well.
“Oh, Alana, I am so sorry.” Sadie’s mom, Cybill, breaks down as soon as she steps in front of me. She clasps my hands and her entire body shakes as her husband Burt moves to stand beside her, looking as red-faced as his wife but without the tears, and we all know why.
“You have to know that she never meant any harm,” Cybill continues on. “She was just… well, you know what happened, dear. Who would have thought?”
Who would have thought Granny Char would have ridden Marty off into his last sunset? I don’t think a single person in town saw that one coming—no pun intended—except for maybe Hazel Jackson.
“I know,” I tell Cybill, patting her hand. I have no other words. Aside from, “I hope she doesn’t blame herself.”
For some reason, that makes Cybill sob even harder. Burt just shrugs and passes me an apologetic frown as he ushers her out of the church.
“At least no one’s talking about our ride anymore,” Holden mutters beside me and it’s all I can do not to collapse in a fit of laughter and tears.
* * *
“To Old Man Morton,”Wilder says that evening as we gather in his and Hallie’s kitchen with wine and the biggest taco bar I’ve ever seen, thanks to Emma, who couldn’t make it any more obvious she’s eating for two. “For the friendship, the memories, and for giving this town something to talk about for the next seventy-six years.”
An assortment of laughs, snorts, and ‘to Marty’ fill the room followed by the clinking of glasses and a mad dash for the food.
My appetite still isn’t what it should be, but I manage to eat two tacos before I head out to the front porch and claim one of the big wooden chairs.
Wilder joins me a few minutes later, and we sit in silence for what feels like hours before he finally speaks.
“Hallie told me that Marty’s nephew wants to sell.”
I nod. “I figured he would.”
“Me too. Mason Creek is a small town and it’s hard for outsiders to see the value we see in it, you know?”
“All too well.” My gaze drifts to the mountain set aglow by the setting sun, and I sigh.
“Let me loan you the down payment.”
My eyes snap back to Wilder. “Excuse me?”
“I know you want to buy the place, Al. And you’ve worked too damn hard not to do it.”
“I could never ask you—”
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.” He presses his lips into a sincere smile. “In case you didn’t know, Levi and I run a pretty successful ranch out here. I don’t mind sharing my good fortune, especially with someone I know is as invested in this town as I am.”
“Wilder…” My eyes fill with tears and I’m at a loss for words. I open my mouth to try and say something. To tell him no, to thank him… I don’t know. I’m just so freaking blown away. So grateful.
The door creaks open beside me and Hallie steps out with her cell phone in hand. She looks from Wilder to me and back again, and he nods.
“I told her,” he says. “I think she’s still processing.”
Hallie smiles. “That’s okay. You don’t have to decide now. In fact…” She glances down at her phone. “Maybe you should wait a bit.”
Wilder and I both frown, and then the sound of tires crunching on gravel in the driveway interrupts.
“What in the hell?” Wilder gets to his feet, a confused look on his face as two car doors shut.
I can’t see around him, so I get to my feet as well, just as Brayden, Hallie’s boss at the bank, and Simon Wright, one of the lawyers in town, start up the porch steps.
“Wilder, Hallie,” Brayden says before he offers me a small smile and his hand. “Alana, I’m sorry to hear about Marty.”
“T-thank you. It was certainly unexpected.” Kind of like him showing up like this, with Simon, no less.
Brayden nods and Hallie holds up a finger. “Let me grab Holden.”
Simon takes a seat in the empty chair beside me, and it’s then that I realize he’s holding a manila folder.
Oh my god, Dalton is evicting me. I haven’t paid rent and Marty and I never even had a rental agreement. I won’t be able to fight this. And Holden… he’ll have to find someplace else to stay, too.
Hallie returns with Holden behind her. He glances around, the crease in his brow deepening.
“What’s going on here?” he asks, resting his hand on the back of my chair.
“I think we’re being evicted,” I rasp, trying desperately not to cry.
“What?” Holden demands. “She’s busted her ass for that store and Dalton wants to kick her out?”
“We’re not here to evict you,” Brayden says, holding up a hand. “Quite the opposite, in fact.”
Simon sits forward, opens the folder, and then hands me two sheets of paper.
A letter from Marty…
And the deed to the Mason Creek Market.