“Mrs. Fairfax means well,” Regan said, shrugging. “But I like having babies. It’s kind of who I am.”
“You work for Johnny Fairfax?” Van asked.
“Yeah, next door at Fairfax Realty. I’m on my break right now.” Regan glanced at her watch. “I only have ten minutes until I have to get back to the office. Can I join you?”
“Sure.” Van watched as Regan wedged herself into the bench seat, her stomach pressed up against the table. “You want a coffee?”
“Better make it decaf. Otherwise people will talk.” She lowered her voice as though it was a secret.
Five minutes later, Van was all up to date with Hartson’s Creek gossip. She knew that Tanner’s brother, Gray, had built a huge mansion on the edge of town and somehow ended up living with his ex-girlfriend’s sister, which according to Regan had caused a hell of a hullabaloo in town. She also knew that Reverend Maitland had broken his leg, but was still running Sunday services on crutches, and that Della Thorsen’s dog had bitten her arm so bad it had bled for hours, yet she was still refusing to have him put to sleep.
Van took a sip of her coffee, amused at how fast Regan could talk. “Poor Mrs. Thorsen.”
“Ah, she had it coming. She’s awful. She made my mom cry at Chairs last week.”
Another mention of Chairs. Van was pretty sure her own mom had been the main topic of conversation these past two weeks at the weekly gathering.
“Have you worked at Fairfax Realty long?” Van asked her when she finally got a word in.
“Five years. I started working right before I got pregnant with my second.” Regan shrugged. “Mr. Fairfax nearly blew a gasket when I told him.”
Van bet he did. “So you must know who owns my mom’s house. One seven five Second Street?”
Regan pulled her lip between her teeth. “One seven five?” she mused. “The one with the oak in the front?”
“That’s the one. Used to be owned by Simon Klein.”
Regan’s face lit up. “Oh, Mr. Klein sold that four years ago. He’s moved to Florida. Last I heard he’d found a girlfriend who was twenty years older than him. I have no idea where they get the energy. As soon as I feed the kids all I want to do is climb into bed and sleep.”
“But do you know who he sold it to?” Van prompted.
“Oh yeah. Tanner Hartson owns it. I’d have thought you’d known that. Aren’t you two best friends?” Regan glanced at her watch. “Oh sugar, I have to go.” She shuffled her behind along the red bench seat, sliding her stomach along the rim of the table. “It was real good to see you, Van. Maybe I’ll see you at Chairs.”
Van nodded. “Sure. It was great to see you, too.”
Regan finally got to the edge of the seat. Feeling sorry for her, Van stood and helped her up, curling her fingers around the pregnant woman’s palm.
“Thank you,” Regan said, leaning forward to give her a hug. “You’re very kind.” She hobbled to the door, and Van found herself running past her to pull it open.
“There you go.”
Van watched her slowly walk toward Fairfax Real
ty, as her stomach dropped at the news Regan had let slip.
Tanner Hartson owned her mom’s house, and by the sound of it he had for a few years now. But why would he do that when they weren’t even talking to each other?
Blowing out a mouthful of air, Van watched as Regan waddled back into her office, the door closing quickly behind her. Van walked back to the table, the thought of Tanner, her mom’s bungalow, and Johnny Fairfax rushing through her mind.
A few days ago she’d thought she’d come back and not let this town affect her.
So much for that.
Tanner stretched his long legs out beneath the kitchen table the next morning, scrolling through the laptop he’d had couriered over yesterday. His work laptop had been surrendered as part of the company sale, along with his work phone and his sense of purpose. He raised an eyebrow, remembering how he used to be cash rich and time poor. All those things he’d said he’d do when he had the time to do them, and now he couldn’t remember any of them.
So instead he was spending way too much of his free time remembering how Van Butler’s ass looked in her tight shorts when she was running. Which really didn’t feel like a bad way to waste away the minutes.
He shifted in the chair, scanning the screen in front of him, shaking his head as he scrolled down again.