"Which I didn't hear about until the next day, because I was working..."
"Details, details. It's the thought that counts."
Libby couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously though, Viv. Are you okay? I think I had a little panic attack when I saw it was you calling. This doesn't have anything to do with breaking up with Brice, does it?"
"Brice? Oh no, not him." She swirled her mug. "I just needed to get away. For a few reasons."
"Things didn't go so well with your parents? I was wondering how the dynamics would be with you working with them."
Vivian glanced at her. "Nathaniel's working for them."
Libby leaned forward so fast that she bumped the table and sloshed her coffee. "He's what?"
"Yeah. That was my reaction too when I walked in the office. Mom wanted to 'surprise' me with it."
Marcie's head swiveled between Libby and Vivian as she helped Libby mop up the coffee with a stack of napkins. "Who's Nathaniel?"
Libby and Vivian exchanged a look.
"He's my ex-boyfriend. My weird ex-boyfriend. And he doesn't plan on moving on anytime soon."
Libby nodded. She knew Vivian hadn't told her everything that Nathaniel had said and done, but it had left invisible scars on Vivian, and Libby didn't want to think about her being exposed to his cruelty anymore.
"My parents are so pro-Nathaniel that I can't stick around. I need to find something else to do. Somewhere else to move to."
"Why don't you move to Portland with me?"
"And do what? Live where?"
"Good point. I still don't know where I'm going to live when I get up there. But you could always come live with me."
"I have an even better idea," Marcie piped up.
Libby wasn't sure if "better idea" and Marcie were two things that went together, but Marcie was good at taking in strays.
Libby would know. So maybe she should bite her tongue and hear Marcie out. Marcie had experienced a lot in her lifetime, and she was creative. She might actually have a good idea — or ten.
"I'm buying a house," Marcie said as she glanced at her little pocket calendar. Libby wasn't sure why she kept that thing. Marcie was so sporadic it was hard imagining her writing out her schedule.
"You’re what?"
"I'm buying a house."
"I thought that's what you said. So, are you selling yours?"
"No, I plan on staying there until I die."
Which would be very soon if she kept on trying to kill people.
Marcie continued, "We're buying a fixer-upper. I'm going to renovate it."
"Is this why we've had HGTV marathons lately?"
"I've been getting inspired. The cottage renovations are just a practice run. Wait until you see this place. There's so much potential. I'll save money because I plan to do most of the renovations myself."
"Porch swing," Libby piped up.
"What?"
"Porch swing. Remember how long it took to put together that porch swing?"
"Those were faulty directions. Besides, you did a great job when I got out of your way and let you do it yourself."
"There are no directions on renovating a house. And I definitely don't want to do it myself."
"Have you never heard of YouTube?"
"I once watched YouTube instructions on fake eyelashes for an entire A&P lab. When I tried it, I managed to glue my eyelids together. No matter how much time you spend watching how-to videos, it doesn't make you an expert."
"Do you want to know what your problem is? You're scared to try something new. Anything different and out of the ordinary scares you," Marcie told her in a frustrated tone.
"You're right. I won't even argue with you on that point."
"You would do so great on a project like this, but you need someone to push you out of your comfort zone. Which is why I want to hire Vivian to help us renovate the house. And the property."
"Property?" Vivian piped up.
"Oh no, you've done it now," Libby told Marcie. "She's been dreaming of living in the country ever since I've known her."
"It's not a big piece of property — just fifty acres or so," Marcie explained.
"Just fifty acres or so," Vivian deadpanned. "Do you realize I have lived in an apartment or townhouse my entire life? You might as well say you bought five thousand acres."
"Well, I do have a five-thousand-acre piece of property in eastern Oregon that could use some TLC as well. But I'll worry about that another day."
Vivian's jaw dropped.
Libby smiled tiredly. "You might as well say yes, Vivian. Whatever she has in mind, at least it will be fun. And you won't have to deal with weird family dynamics — only Marcie and me."
"Fine. I'll do it. Any apartments for rent here in Colter?"
Marcie waved her hand. "Don't worry about that. Once we get the fixer-upper livable, you can live there. I want to start a hobby farm there. I've always wanted a homestead."
Vivian pulled out her phone and pulled up Pinterest. "I have a Pinterest board completely dedicated to homesteads, thanks to that boring history class I had to take my freshman year. What does the house look like on the inside?"
"I'm not sure. It's being sold by auction. Tomorrow."
"Perfect. I'll hire some movers to pack up my stuff from my apartment and send it this way. Maybe I'll ask Max to drive up and help."
Libby bit her lip to keep from laughing. Evan's old roommate was going to love that. And now Colter had swallowed up another unsuspecting soul.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LIBBY sat straight up in bed and glared at Vivian who still had her sleep mask on. Vivian was blindly smacking at Libby.
Libby wondered if she could add Vivian to Marcie's list of possible victims. It would serve her right for waking Libby up. "Remind me why you had to sleep in my bed when there are three other rooms to pick from?"
"I don't like to sleep alone."
"I do," Libby growled. "And you slept alone when we lived together."
"That was different. It was our home. This isn't. Besides, there was a stuffed deer in the other room, and I didn't want to sleep across the hall by myself. Your phone's still ringing."
Libby snagged the phone off of the dresser. An unknown number was trying to FaceTime her. She swiped and answered. She didn't even care that she looked scary enough to be on a Halloween poster. That's what happens when you FaceTime someone at five forty-five in the morning.
"Hello?"
All she could see was a forehead. A wrinkled forehead with a head of gorgeous white hair combed over to the side.
"Hello? Doggone this thing. I just want to talk, not take a picture."
"Bob?" Libby asked, a little incredulous that her cribbage buddy was FaceTiming her. "Bob, is that your forehead I see?"
"Libby. I'm waiting in the car to pick you up for cribbage. Harvey and I figured you wouldn't feel up to running with that bum ankle. I'm waiting in Marcie's driveway."
The call ended, and Libby was left staring at her phone. "Who was that, and what in the world is cribbage?" Vivian asked, lifting a corner of her sleep mask.
"That was Bob. I'm heading downstairs to play cribbage for an hour. Catch you later."
Libby stood and was pleasantly surprised that she could put weight on her injured ankle. There was no shooting pain, and it was only a tiny bit tender. She snagged a pair of jeans out of the drawer and pulled on a tank top then a sweatshirt. She walked downstairs slowly. Even though the ankle was feeling better, she didn't want to risk straining it again.
She stepped out the front door to find Bob parked in the driveway — in a Tesla.
No wonder she hadn't heard him.
She spent the next hour and a half playing cribbage with Harvey and Bob. She didn't even get skunked this time. After the third game, she texted Marcie and Vivian and asked them what type of coffee they wanted her to bring home for them. Marcie immediately texted back, letting her know they would pick her up in town so they could go straight to th
e house auction.
Libby headed down to Cup of Jo's to wait for her taxi service. She didn't have long to wait before a white Prius slowed in front of her on Main Street. Libby sent out a quick prayer of thanks that Vivian had insisted on driving. Libby didn't think she would ever be ready to ride with Marcie again.
"Get in, we're going to buy a house!" Vivian yelled out the window as she slowed down in front of the coffee shop. She never came to a complete stop, forcing Libby to chase after the still-moving car.
"You crazy person!" Libby told her as she buckled up and licked the spilled coffee off her arm. It was too precious to waste.
Marcie sat in the front seat, punching buttons on the radio. And Vivian started explaining all of her plans she had for the place. Apparently, she had lain awake most of the night getting inspired by all of the homestead blogs. She had the entire property designed. And she hadn't even seen it yet.
Libby couldn't help but think that Marcie had picked the perfect person to get a place fixed up. Vivian had endless energy and countless ideas. She would either make or break the property. Either way, Libby was glad Vivian was away from Nathaniel. There was something off about him. Something just a little disturbing. Libby could never place her finger on it, but it was just a strange feeling she had whenever she was around him. Evan had never liked him either. So much so, that anytime he was around, he carefully situated himself between Libby and Nathaniel.
A real estate sign was staked at the end of a driveway, declaring a house auction starting at eight-thirty. While the address was only two miles out of town, the house wasn't close to the road. Vivian's car bounced down the washboard driveway that was lined with trees.
"We'll have to fix this when we buy the place. I promised myself I wouldn't need dentures until my nineties," Marcie remarked. "If I drive down this all the time, I'd need a set after a week."
"There are other people here. Is that Helen there?" Libby looked at the small crowd gathered in the driveway between the barn and the house. Libby wasn't sure which was the barn and which was the house. They were both red, and they both looked like they were about to tumble down around someone's ears.
Marcie parked the car. "Helen wants to buy this place and subdivide it. It's so close to town she might be able to push the zoning with the county. That woman." Marcie shook her head. "She knows I've had my eye on this place."
Marcie was still mumbling about “that darn Helen” as they parked the car and headed toward the small group.
A balding man with a thick mustache greeted them. "Hello, I'm Stanley Blodgett from the bank. I'll be running the auction. Only cashier’s checks or cash are accepted. Please step over here and fill out this paperwork, and then you're free to explore until the auction starts at eight-thirty sharp."
Once Marcie was done filling out the paperwork, she turned to the girls. "Vivian, why don't you go look in the barn, I'll look at the downstairs of the house, and Libby will look at the upstairs. Then, we'll have some idea of what we're getting into before the auction starts."
Vivian walked off to look in the barn and small sheds while Marcie and Libby headed to the front of the house.
"How is Evan doing?"
Libby tripped and caught herself. "Is this a trick question?"
"No. I told him to stop texting me about you every day and to text you instead." Marcie smiled. "So?"
Libby blushed. "So he's been texting."
Marcie nudged her arm. "This is good."
"I don't see how. We're just friends."
"Just friends. Ha. If I had a dollar every time someone told that lie, I'd give Trump a run for his money."
"I'm not lying! He thinks of me as a good friend. Maybe a pesky neighbor."
Marcie raised her eyebrows at Libby.
"Stop."
Marcie wiggled her eyebrows.
"Marcie. Knock it off. Nothing is going on between Evan and me."
"Time will tell," Marcie said in a singsong voice.
Libby didn't know where Marcie was coming up with all of this stuff. Evan didn't think of Libby in any other capacity than a friend who was keeping his grandma alive. Even if Libby had feelings for him, it wasn't as if she could force the issue. She didn't want to ruin the friendship they had now. And that's what would happen if she said anything to him. She wouldn't do it. Not to mention, she was old-fashioned and didn't like to make the first move. If the man wasn't brave enough to ask the girl out, she didn't want anything to do with him.
But Marcie seemed to think that Evan liked her in that way. Maybe Evan didn't want to ruin the good thing they had going right now, either. It had been a long time since Libby had given any thought to relationships.
And she should keep ignoring it. That would be the smart thing to do. She was probably obsessing about it because there weren't any other prospects in Colter. What she needed to do was meet a different guy who could distract her from Evan. Like that nice-looking young man who had stopped her wheelchair. He would do.
"Whatever you think is going on between Evan and me is not happening. He's a good friend. And I want to keep it that way."
"What if he doesn't want to keep it that way? What if he were to want something more?"
Libby folded her arms across her chest and pretended to study the rotten porch. "If that's what he thinks, why doesn't he say something?"
"Maybe he's worried."
"Maybe he should grow a pair and say something."
Marcie laughed. "I think that he misses you. Don't you find it interesting that he came here last weekend? He hadn't been to Colter in six months. What do you make of that?"
"Maybe the fact that I texted him to tell him you were planning on toilet papering someone's house." Except, now that Libby thought about it, there was no way he could make the drive from Portland to Colter in the hour from when she texted him and then he found her in the shed.
Marcie gave Libby a knowing look. "That has been a tradition in the historic neighborhood for over ten years now. Evan used to help. It was one of his favorite weekends of the year."
"There you have it; he didn't want to miss out on the fun."
"I think he might have had a little more incentive with you being here."
"Okay, folks. Let's get this auction started. I've got to get back to the bank in time for a four o'clock appointment," Stanley shouted so that everyone would gather around him in the front yard. "Today's starting bid is two hundred thousand, and we only take cash or a cashier’s check. Now, I hope you all have everything in order, because we've got to get this show on the road so that I can get on the road." He laughed loudly at his own joke.
When no one else laughed, he cleared his throat and opened the auction.
Twenty bids later, Marcie won the place for three hundred thousand with the house sight unseen. She paid for it with cash from a carpetbag.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
A loud engine rumbled outside the house. It was six forty-five in the morning. FedEx didn't deliver this early in the morning. But Libby was sure she could hear Marcie's voice outside. It was a bad street for a truck to get lost down. There wasn't room for it to turn around.
She couldn't make out the words, but a man was talking back to her. She was sure of it, because the voices had to speak loudly over what she assumed was a diesel engine.
Stumbling out of bed, Libby grabbed a big sweatshirt and her tennis shoes. She was afraid to see what Marcie was up to this early in the morning. Libby glanced at Vivian, but she was still asleep in her bed.
As she headed down the stairs and out onto the front porch, she was surprised to see a truck with a small horse trailer attached to it backing up the side drive to the backyard. Marcie was standing along the fence, waving the man back, then motioned for him to stop once he was nearly hitting the gate posts.
A round, middle-aged man jumped out of the truck and waddled to the back of the trailer.
"Now, I'm sure you'll be real happy with her. An exotic pet and all. She's a pretty, and some
might even say an exotic bird. I'm sure you'll be real happy with her. Now, I just know you'll be happy with such an exotic pet, just like my wife was."
Libby rolled her eyes. He was like a bad used car salesman, but he was selling some kind of animal. Now that she thought about it, she still couldn't see what the man was talking about.
She walked over to stand next to Marcie. "What are you doing?"
Marcie smiled. "I've bought us a pet."
Libby looked from the horse trailer to the yard and then back again. "You know, Marcie, I'm no farmer, but I'd have to guess that your yard isn't big enough to feed a horse."
Marcie tapped her fingers against the yard gate that she held open. "Don't worry, it's not a horse. It's even better. Just wait until you meet Felicia. She's exactly what we need."
Libby raised both eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest as she turned to watch the man open the trailer door.
He continued with his compelling promotional speech about his animal. "Now, my wife just loved her as much as a person could love her. But we aren't as fast — er, I mean — we don't have as much time as we used to. Now, she needs love and care. You know?"
Libby wanted to ask him if it was the pet or his wife he was talking about.
"Now, just stand back now. We don't want to be scaring her now." He swung the door wide, and Marcie and Libby took a step back.
A head poked out of the trailer, and Libby couldn't keep a gasp from escaping.
"You bought an ostrich?"
"Nope. I bought an emu," Marcie replied with a broad smile.
"Felicia's an emu?"
"I hope you weren't expecting some normal pet like a dog, were you?" Marcie asked with a speculative look on her face.
"I'll give you this, an ostrich — I mean, emu -," she amended at Marcie's glare, "does not count as mundane."
The wild-eyed emu bolted out of the trailer and dashed into the backyard. She ran two full circles of the yard before she stopped on the small bridge over the pond next to the cottage.
"My, she's a fast old girl, isn't she?" Marcie commented.
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