Roots and Wings (City Limits #1)

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.

“Can’t complain. I saw Dean last night at The Tap. He was having a good time.” The wink that Rhonda and know-it-all BethAnne shared wasn’t missed.

“That’s good. The shop was busy yesterday. He deserved a little fun.”

“Are you ever going to date that boy? You know he’s been waiting around years for you, Mutt?”

Rhonda finished bagging up BethAnne’s things and gave her the total.

“He’s like my brother. It would be a little strange,” I said. All the while remembering that BethAnne married a guy who was her stepbrother for a time. Paul’s dad was BethAnne’s mom’s second husband. “Sorry, you know what I mean.”

Rhonda’s eyes lit up. I’d hit a nerve. I meant no offense, but it was too easy and I knew it would shut BethAnne up. I found the ones who gossiped the most had the most skeletons in their closet. And BethAnne had a walk-in’s worth of bones. Literally.

Judging by the cherry red cheeks and the scowl, she had taken offense. She quickly loaded a cart with her bags, not saying another word until she was walking out.

“Have a good day, Rhonda. Mutt.” In her fluster to leave, she banged the corner of the cart off the side of the brand new automatic doors they’d just installed. Those things were never going to last.

“Well, you sure got her all worked up,” Rhonda warned. “You know she’s sensitive about Paul.”

“Sensitive? If she doesn’t like the taste of her own medicine, that’s her problem. I heard her making fun of Lesley the other day when she was at Diana’s for lunch. You tell me how sensitive it is to make fun of a person with disabilities, through no fault of their own. BethAnne can just deal with whatever she has coming to her.”

Lesley was Coach Fry’s daughter. At games, she’d cheer alongside the cheerleaders and everyone in town loved her. She had Down syndrome, but don’t underestimate her; she was smart as a whip, remembering every move of every game she’d ever been to. Plus, she adored everyone. And if my dad hadn’t told BethAnne to shut her pie-hole that day in the restaurant, I would have.

My grandpa always used to say, “God don’t like ugly, Mutt.”

Sometimes I thought he was ugly, but if I ever got too far out of line, I was quickly reeled back in. Thinking back on it, my grandfather was kind of a hypocrite. He was the first one to call me Mutt after all.