Page 21 of See It Through
“I know you wouldn’t.” I had a second to feel good about his confidence in me despite him only just forgiving me for the hurt I’d caused. It didn’t last when he added, “Not on purpose, anyway.”
That stung, but he wasn’t wrong.
When it was time to leave, I would. That might have meant never seeing Caleb or his family again, but I didn’t belong here, and I wasn’t going to be staying.
Chapter Ten
Hannah
My regularly scheduled programmingwas once again interrupted by the necessity of paperwork. It truly sucked the joy right out of life. Even more so now that Remi was lurking about Graham’s house.
I got the sense he was giving me space, though. Since our unexpected encounter at Joy’s last week, where my traitor of a brother had decided to leave the past in the past, I’d only seen Remi in passing. I’d spied him hanging out with Henry around the property and had narrowly avoided a run-in in the kitchen one afternoon, but we hadn’t exchanged a word, and I was pleased with that.
But his presence loomed.
He was annoyingly, distractingly…there.
I did not have time to think about Remington Town. Not when I had calls to make and bills to send out.
I was currently on the phone with Keith Levinson, a grizzled old rancher who was ninety if he was a day, hard of hearing, and stubborn as a mule—a fantastic combination.
“You want change? Did I not pay you the right amount last time?” he hollered into my ear.
“No, Mr. Levinson. You paid the correct amount. I need to switch your appointment,” I shouted back. “Can I come out Wednesday?”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he answered.
I banged the heel of my hand against my forehead. This was what I got for trying to make my life easier. Keith’s property was a sixty-mile drive from Sugar Brush. It wasn’t an out-of-the-ordinary distance, but I’d agreed to a standing Wednesday appointment for a new client who lived near Keith and hoped to consolidate my driving time and do them both on the same day.
“Would it be possible to turn the volume up on your phone?” I asked.
“Sure, you can come by my home. When were you thinking?”
I closed my eyes, deciding to let him guide the direction of this conversation. Maybe that’d make things easier. “Does Wednesday work?”
“My shirt’s blue. Why do you ask?”
Oh boy.I carefully enunciated my next words and basically yelled this poor man’s ears off. “Can I come on Wednesday?”
He chuffed. “You know I never go anywhere, young lady. Any day of the week is fine by me.”
Success. Time to be done while we understand each other.
“Great. I will see you next Wednesday.”
“Well, all right. Wednesday is fine. You didn’t have to shout.”
He hung up without saying goodbye, and I tossed the phone on my desk. Letting my head fall in my hands, releasing the frustration burbling in my throat in a high-pitched yowl.
I didn’t want to do this. If Graham were here, he would have taken care of these calls. He loved chatting with the folks who’d been his clients for years. He’d been good at it.
Ireallymissed him.
I couldn’t stop the second cry from spilling out, another frustrated, angry keen. That was why I shouldn’t have been surprised when the door to my office pushed open moments later and a deep voice interrupted my spiral.
“Hannah…are you okay?”
My surprise was the only reason I grabbed the object closest to my hand—a stress ball shaped like a cupcake—and lobbed it straight toward the voice.