Bryce was amazing, and not in a good way. For a time, both women, and Rosalie’s father as well, had nurtured bad feelings against Bryce every bit as strong as the ones Rosalie still seemed to cling to.
Numb with grief at the sudden, tragic death of their son, Rosalie’s parents had sought comfort in the only way they knew how—by blaming the young man whose show-off antics had resulted in the accident which took the life of his best friend. Looking back, Rosalie realized that the anger and bitterness against Bryce, rightly or wrongly, had probably been the glue that had held the Campano family together through the weeks and months of mourning.
And then Danny came along and their lives progressed according to a new purpose and pace. Rosalie continued to cry every night for her brother. Enzo Campano buried his grief so deep that Rosalie often wondered if he allowed himself to think about Ricky at all. And Claudia threw her efforts and mothering skills into making a home for her grandson.
Unlike her daughter and her husband, at some point, she’d let go of the anguish and resentment. At least she said she had. But had she ever really forgiven Bryce? Since the Campanos didn’t talk much about the incident, Rosalie had always wondered. Today, however, almost sixteen years after her son’s death, Claudia tried to convince her daughter in this grandiose gesture of welcoming Bryce home that she had.
“You’re the talk of the town, Bryce,” Claudia said. He grinned in a seemingly modest way and chatted quietly with her.
Rosalie rang up the customer’s order. When the lady got in her car and drove away, Bryce walked over. “So how’s business, Rosalie?” he said.
“It’s okay.”
The Honda sped past with Danny in the backseat. The driver honked his horn and turned onto Fox Hollow Road.
Bryce stared at the car for a moment and then snapped his fingers. “That’s right. You have a kid, don’t you? My mother told me you went to college, met a guy and had a baby.”
“That’s right.”
“A boy?”
“Yes.”
“And you moved back home with Claudia?”
“Right again.”
The car rounded a curve and disappeared. Rosalie hoped that would be the end of the conversation. Nope.
“Is your son in high school yet?” Bryce asked.
Vague. Vague. Keep your answers vague. Divert attention away from Danny. “Starts this year,” she said, returning to the task of packing tomato boxes. Bryce didn’t take the hint and move away, so she looked up at him, swallowed an involuntary sigh, and said, “You’re surrounded by fruits and vegetables at your house, Bryce, so you’re obviously not here to shop.”
He smiled. “Not today.”
“Then …?”
He leaned a hip against the stand. “Campanos does business with Benton Farms, and I’m grateful for your years of support. Would you believe it’s customer appreciation day?”
Right. She rearranged tomatoes to fit more boxes in the bin. “Not unless this magnanimous event just started today.”
“As a matter of fact, it did.”
She huffed. “And exactly how many Benton customers have you visited so far to show your appreciation?”
The grin broadened. “You’re the first.”
She frowned at him and continued working, though on some deeper emotional level she was aware of his every move. “As you can see, I’m busy. If you want to go appreciate someone else, feel free.”
“I stopped by for another reason, too,” he said.
“And that would be?”
He stood straight and looked down the road. “You and I are going to be neighbors.”
Her hand stilled. She clutched her fists at her sides. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m about to become a home owner. I put a bid in for a place down the road, about halfway between your house and the old gristmill.”
Her mind scrambled to come up with a location. Houses were separated by acres of land on Fox Hollow Road. There were no close neighbors in the traditional sense. The only property she knew of that was for sale was the old Harbin place. Surely he didn’t mean the homestead that was less than a mile away.
“I just left the Harbin property,” he said. “I’ve made an offer.”
She could only stare, reining in her first impulse to shout at him that he had no right. That she didn’t want him living so near. That she didn’t need to be thinking about him driving past her house every day, invading the space in her heart that once had been filled with him. Instead, after a few moments she found her voice. “That place has been vacant for quite a while.”
“I know. It needs some work. Have you ever driven back there to see the house?”
She had once or twice, when she was a kid. But she couldn’t tell him right now what the house even looked like. “My dad knew old Mr. Clive,” she said. “And he sometimes drove produce out to Wyatt Harbin when he was in town. I don’t remember much about the place. The people who stayed there kept to themselves.”
Light animated Bryce’s eyes. “It’s a great place, Rosalie. Got real potential. I can’t wait to start fixing it up.”
It wasn’t enough that she was going to work with Bryce at the high school. Now they were going to be neighbors. In a spread-out, rural community the size of Whistler Creek, why hadn’t he found a house miles away on one of the other country roads?
She realized he was talking and forced herself to tune in.
“… a done deal yet. The family will have to accept the offer….” He stopped, stared at her. “But I really want that house, Rosalie. I’ll start to feel more like a part of the community once I’ve moved in.” He waited for a reaction from her and when he didn’t get one he said, “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”
At the risk of choking she said, “Congratulations, Bryce.” She almost said, Once again you’ll get everything you want, but instead said the words she knew her eavesdropping mother would be waiting for. “I hope you’re happy in the new place.”
He smiled. “Since we’ll be living so close, maybe you’ll bring me a cup of sugar if I need to borrow it.”
That was the last straw. In spite of Claudia’s listening to every word, Rosalie said, “Look around you, Bryce. Nothing but fields and barns and open space. This isn’t Wisteria Lane for heaven’s sake. We don’t meet in the mornings for coffee and in the afternoons for margaritas.”
She spared a glance in her mother’s direction and immediately felt the sting of her heated gaze. Well, sorry, Ma.
“I’m kind of disappointed to hear that, Rosalie,” Bryce said. “I was hoping we could put the past behind us.”
Rosalie
