10
mckenzie
I scrollthrough the search results for homemade triple-berry pie recipes on my work computer, skipping over one that calls for frozen berries, and another that uses canned fruit filling. I want to bake a pie that reminds me of the ones Bev made in Gramp’s kitchen, bursting with fresh fruit and topped with a lattice crust. I’ll admit, the lattice top might be pushing it; I’ve never actually rolled out a pie crust by myself. But I'm determined to teach myself how to bake a pie from scratch, because I said I would bring a dessert to Holly's baby shower, and that's what I plan to do.
I’ll be using fresh raspberries from Austin’s berry bushes, and local strawberries and blueberries from a nearby farmstand. The blueberry bushes we put in won’t produce fruit until next year, but I’m excited for the stone fruit to ripen.
After thoroughly touring the orchard, I determined that we have six peach trees, four pear trees, and four apple trees in all. We've managed to prune just over half of them, and now that the peach trees have sprouted leaves, it's only a matter of weeks before we get our first harvest. I can already feel the sticky juice dripping down my chin.
The veggie garden is coming along nicely, too. We started planting too late to grow anything besides lettuce from seed, but the plant nursery offered a good selection of starters. I've sectioned off one corner to use as an herb garden, and planted flowers in between the food crops to bring in the bees.
The front-desk phone rings for the hundredth time this morning. Everyone wants their deck replaced before the Fourth of July. Only three calls have come in for me so far, down from five yesterday, mainly journalists and reporters seeking my comment on the former governor’s early release.
I'm surprised Bridget Howe fromOur Nation Todayis still only calling on Fridays, still with the same old pitch: an interview about me, not the case, or Hoyt Renier, or the Davis family.
Yeah, still no thanks.
I answer the phone—another deck quote, this time with a built-in hot tub—and forward the call to Mike’s office. I’m back to scrolling recipes when I hear footsteps in the hall.
“Sup, Kenzie?” Jeremy’s smile isn’t as broad as it used to be. Our normally friendly rapport has been strained since the night we had dinner at Rudy’s. Austin still believes Jeremy intended to take advantage of me, but Austin’s wary of every straight-leaning guy who talks to me, aside from a select few.
“Not much,” I reply. “How's your day going?”
“Can't complain.” I could tell Jeremy was disappointed when I mentioned I was moving in with Austin. Now that we’re a couple, Jeremy won't even talk to me when Austin's in the office, unless I speak to him first.
He nods to my computer screen. “Planning on doing some baking?”
“That's the idea.”
After an awkward pause, he says, “I didn't know you liked to bake.”
“I don't. Well, I haven't on a long time. I told Holly I'd bring a dessert to her baby shower.”
It’s been almost three weeks since I moved out of Cal and Hollywood’s house. She still texts me almost every day. I don't always respond, but I wouldn't say I've been ignoring her. As much as I miss getting to talk to her face-to-face, I think this separation is good for us. Hollywood and I haven't been apart since we were fourteen. We grew up together, and in a lot of ways, we helped shape each other as people. I'm learning who I am when she's not around to support me.
And I'm beginning to wonder if she wasn't entirely wrong about there being things I haven't dealt with.
I had hoped the nightmares would at least slow down now that I’m sharing a bed with Austin. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case. Whathaschanged is that I'm able to fall back to sleep faster with Daddy's arms around me, but it’s a tossup when you factor in the remorse I feel for kicking or smacking him awake.
The bell on the entrance door chimes as a tall, lanky man in a tan suit enters the office. He glances around like he's not sure if he's in the right place.
“I'll leave you to it,” Jeremy says, before heading back down the hall.
I ready my best customer-service smile.
“Hi,” I say to the man. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” His lips disappear as they spread apart. “I just have a couple of questions I hope you can answer.”
“Sure. I can try to answer your questions, but if you need more technical or specific information, I can have one of our project managers come chat with you.”
He rests his arm on my desk. “I was wondering how long this place has been around for.”
“Oh...” That's not usually the first question we get, though people are often curious about the company’s background. “I think Austin and Jonah started the firm around twelve years ago? I'm sure the specifics are listed on our website.”
“Austin and Jonah are the owners?”
“Yes. Jonah Parkes and Austin Pope.”