Feels like Trouble (Lake Fisher 4)

Grady glances down at his watch. “You got about a minute and half. Make up your mind, Clifford.”

“Fine,” I say, and I get out of the Jeep and slam the door a little harder than necessary. “How does your mother stand him?”

Grady chuckles. “She doesn’t. He works all the time. They’re like two ships that brush up against one another in the night.”

I scrunch up my face. “Ew. I do not want to think about your father brushing up against anything in the night.”

Grady opens the front door and motions for me to precede him inside.

I find Mrs. Parker at the kitchen table, where she has a heaping plate of cookies and four glasses of sweet tea already poured. She pulls out a chair and motions for me to sit. I hesitate just long enough to see where everyone sits, making sure I am taking the seat farthest from Mr. Parker.

“I heard about your house, dear,” Mrs. Parker gushes as she settles next to me. “I saw that place about ten years ago and thought it was the most darling house on the prettiest piece of land.”

“Did you get it at a good price?” Mr. Parker asks me.

“Dad, it’s not polite to ask her how much she paid,” Grady protests.

I hold up my hand to stop him. “I got it at a very good price, Mr. Parker. I’m happy with what I paid.”

Mr. Parker grunts, which I suppose is a sign of approval for my answer, vague as it was. “What made you want to move back to town?” he asks, sizing me up over the rim of his glass of tea.

I shrug. “Grandma’s getting older and I wanted to be closer to her.”

“So it didn’t have anything to do with Grady here?”

“Dad—”

But I rush to answer. “No, it didn’t have anything to do with Grady. Not then. But it has quite a lot to do with him now, if you want to know the truth. I came here for Grandma, and I’m glad I did because I got to become friends with Grady again.”

“Friends,” Mr. Parker repeats as he looks from me to Grady and back. “That’s what you are? Friends?”

“Yes.” I look at Grady, suddenly feeling like I need help, but he keeps his lips zipped. “We’re friends.”

Mrs. Parker jumps up to take another sheet of cookies from the oven. “Honey, why don’t you take Evie out to the barn and see if she can use anything out there.”

I look around, trying to figure out what they’re talking about.

Grady rubs his chin. “You do need a couch. My mom has a couch. And a dining room table.”

“Four of them, actually,” his mom admits sheepishly. “I like to go antiquing.”

“Antiquing, my ass,” Mr. Parker grumbles. “None of that stuff is old. It’s all modern.”

“Guess that’s why I got really good deals,” Mrs. Parker insists.

Grady lumbers to his feet. “Come on, Evie. I’ll show you.”

Grady leads me to the big barn at the back of the property. “My dad had planned to park his tractor in here,” he explains, “but Mom kept buying stuff, and I told her she couldn’t hide any more of it at my house. And she couldn’t foist it off on her friends, so she took over Dad’s barn.”

He opens the door and I see four couches, two rocking chairs, four dining room tables, and assorted other items like lamps, side tables, bookcases, mirrors, and décor accessories. There’s even a crib in one corner. “Was that yours?” I ask, pointing.

He shakes his head. “For her grandbabies, she says.” He taps his temple. “You know, the fictional ones that live in her head.” He rolls his eyes.

I hear Mrs. Parker yell for Grady from the back porch. “Be right back,” he says. “Look around. If you want anything, you can have it. Seriously. Anything.”

“Hell, I’d pay you to take it,” Mr. Parker says, walking in as Grady walks out. I make a move to follow Grady, but Mr. Parker steps into my path. “I reckon you and I should have a little talk.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “About?”