Hold Onto the Stars by Tracy Broemmer
Epilogue
CJ glancedat her dad as she dropped a slice of bread into the toaster. Her heart did that little thud and stutter thing it had been doing as of late whenever she studied him too closely. He was in good health, but he had aged so much lately. It made her desperate to grab the reins of time and slow it to a halt. Maybe even turn things back a bit. Never so far into her childhood to bring her mother back. As much as she would love to have her mom back in her life, she couldn’t watch her dad suffer that loss again.
But CJ would gladly redo a few recent years of hanging around her dad. He could be crotchety and blunt at times, but mostly, he was a good guy with a heart of gold. He had taught her his solid work ethic, how to judge a fly ball in the outfield, and respect for electricity, among other things.
It was time for him to retire. To enjoy his golden years. He didn’t have a steady lady friend, but CJ knew he had a group of friends—men and women alike—he enjoyed spending time with. They had started chattering about traveling one day. CJ had scoffed at the idea at first. Crosby Everhart was a homebody through and through. He didn’t care to go to movies and had only recently started dining out. And he made a trip just outside town to the lake for some fishing only once a month, if that.
But the more he talked about it—there were rumblings about an Alaskan cruise—the more CJ hoped he would do it. He had worked hard his entire life, both on the job and raising her alone, and he deserved to see the world and enjoy time with someone other than his daughter and their customers.
Her dad put the cordless phone down and sipped his coffee. In front of him on the table, his empty plate had been pushed away, his silverware crossed over it like dead soldiers. Eggs and toast every morning. CJ had vague memories of her mother making pancakes on Sundays, but she pushed them out of her mind. After all these years, her dad still didn’t like to talk much about her.
“What’s on the agenda today?”
“New construction on Georgia Street,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Hal’s place, right?” She snatched her toasted bread, dropped it on a plate, and carried it to the table to butter it. Hallie Kepner did a heavy catering business out of her tiny kitchen on Georgia Street—an occasional reception, the high school’s sports banquets, and teachers’ appreciation lunches—but her bread and butter was do-gooders having home-cooked meals made and delivered for shut-ins. Shut-ins might be anyone—the elderly who didn’t drive and therefore couldn’t get out anymore, people who’d broken a bone or tweaked a back muscle, or anyone sick with seasonal allergies all the way to terminal cancer. Hallie had started cooking for others out of the goodness of her heart, and gradually, the community had started hiring her to cook for others out of the goodness of their hearts. Now, after zoning meetings and approvals and permits out the ears, Hallie and her husband were putting up an outbuilding for her to use as a professional cooking space.
“Yep.” CJ’s dad nodded. “Hope her moving doesn’t change her mac and cheese.”
CJ rolled her eyes at her dad. “How’s it going to change anything? She knows what she’s doing. Besides, you eat boxed mac and cheese most of the time.”
Her dad shrugged, hid sheepish smile behind his coffee cup.
“I can do the job,” CJ told him now.
They talked occasionally about his eventual retirement, though CJ tried to let him bring it up. If she did, he would inevitably grow defensive about it and tell her he wasn’t ready to let go of the business. Still, she tried to take on more of the big jobs after noticing the way her dad hobbled around after a full day of work. He complained now and then of his knees bothering him, and she worried his first experience after retiring would be having them replaced.
He nodded now, though. Without an argument.
“I saw that woman’s business card on the bulletin board,” he told her, his voice rough with accusation. CJ took a deep breath to steel herself for this argument. For the past six months now, she had been campaigning to step up their marketing plan. Branch out into a few surrounding smaller towns and even hire another apprentice or two. Her dad argued that it was a family business, that they had plenty to do here in Oak Bend, and that Everhart Electric had survived on word of mouth for years, so there was no need to throw away hard-earned money on advertising.
She could play dumb, but why bother? It would only prolong the argument. Her dad was talking about Grace Holland. CJ didn’t know her well, but she knew the woman had grown up here, left town after a family tragedy, and was now back in Oak Bend dealing with her grandfather’s estate. Grace Holland was a website designer. Everhart Electric didn’t have a website. Yet. If CJ had her way, they would soon.
“And?”
“You call her yet?”
“Not yet, but I have bumped into her a time or two at Java.”
“Saw that vampire girl on the back of a Harley motorcycle the other day.” Her dad set his cup down hard enough to slosh a little coffee on the table.
“She’s not a vampire girl, and she has a name.” CJ took a bite of her toast. “And you know it.”
He grinned and shrugged. “Ella’s got no business on a Harley.”
“Her business is not our business,” CJ reminded him.
“Still.” He shrugged again. “Hate to see her get hurt.”
“She wasn’t with Jack, was she?” CJ hated to ask, but she wasn’t aware of anyone else in Oak Bend owning a Harley.
“Vi’s ex? That Jack?”
CJ nodded when her dad met her eyes.
“Hell, no. I woulda chased after ‘em and pushed the bike over.”
“Nice.”
They shared a small smile. Her dad was as protective of Violet—and Ella—as he was her.
“This guy had a ponytail.”
“No helmet?”
Her dad nodded. “Yep. Ponytail so long I could see it down his back.”
“Maybe it was a woman.”
“Ella’s gay?”
CJ’s eye roll drew a satisfied laugh from him.
“Not that I know of, but what if she is?”
“No judgment here.” Her dad spread his fingers out and waved them in surrender.
“Only if it was a guy with a long ponytail,” CJ corrected him.
“Mmm.” He nodded and pushed his chair back to stand. “You might as well call her.”
“What?” CJ shoved the remainder of the toast in her mouth and hopped up to follow her dad to the sink. “What? Call who?”
“That website lady.” He rinsed his cup out and put it in the dishwasher. “The Dutch woman.”
“She’s not Dutch, Dad. Her last name is Holland.”
“Whatever. Give her a call.”
“Yeah? You’re ready to do a website? Are we gonna take on more work in the rural areas? Surrounding small towns?”
“I’m not,” he answered. “You are.”
“What?”
“I’m going to Alaska next May,” he told her. “With the council.”
The council? CJ blinked and stared after him, too stunned to move.
“Wait!” she hollered and ran after him. “What? Who’s the council?” She caught him in the mudroom and watched him tug his work boots on.
“Coffee council. There’s about twelve of us going.”
CJ tipped her head and studied him, though he paid her no attention as he tied his boots.
“What?”
“Keep up, girl.” He peeked at her, and CJ was gobsmacked to see the hint of a smile on his face. “You’re gonna need to fill these shoes, so you best start sooner rather than later. Don’t wanna think you’ll blow my business all to hell the first time I leave town.”
“You’re really doing this? Retiring?”
“Yep.” He nodded. Boots tied, he fixed her with a hard, unforgiving stare. “’Bout time, don’t you think?”
“Dad—”
“You finally got yourself a man, so—”
“Wait.” CJ shook her head. “Are you saying that you were waiting for me to find someone before you retired? Like you think I can’t handle the business?”
“Hell, no, that’s not what I’m saying.” Her dad grabbed his tool kit and headed for the back door. “I’m saying you got a man. Seems like a good thing. If you’re moving in with him, maybe it’s time for me to make a big change too.”
“Dad.” CJ sighed.
“What? I thought this is what you wanted. Me to retire. Out of your hair. And you running my business.”
“Daddy, I don’t want you out of my hair,” she argued. “I want you to live a little.”
“I know, Sweetheart.” He turned back to her and chucked her chin. “I’m teasing.”
“Dad.”
“You hand that boy the reins to my business, I might kick his butt.”
“Daddy.”
“You love him?” Her dad asked seriously. “I wouldn’t mind walking you down a church aisle someday.”
“I do.” She nodded.
“Well, then you better not shack up too long, raising my grand dogs and livin’ in sin.”
CJ snorted and shook her head. “He’s my happy, Dad. I hope you’re okay with that.”
“Crosby Jean, all I’ve ever wanted is for my little girl to be happy.” Her dad slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close for a hug. “Whatever that looks like for you. I’m proud of you.”
Overcome with emotion, CJ hugged him back. She nodded and managed a broken thank you.
“Your mother would be proud, too.” He drew back from her and kissed her forehead. “You know that, right?”
She shrugged, but she nodded too. “Still nice to hear you say it.”
“He’s a good man,” her dad told her. CJ swiped at her eyes. “Now go wash your face before he shows up to start moving your stuff, and you’re standing here bawling.”
She laughed and took a step backward. “So, would you want to babysit your grand puppies if I go with Peyton to meet his family for Thanksgiving?”
“Maybe.” He narrowed his eyes at her.
“Will you be okay here alone?”
“Who says I’ll be alone, Crosby Jean?” He tilted his head.
“Oh.” She grinned. “Oh? Are you seeing someone? Who is it?”
Her dad simply shook his head.
“You’re not gonna tell me?”
The sound of a horn outside drew his attention. He shot her a grin as he opened the door.
“Saved by the horn.” He winked. “Your moving chariot awaits.”