He was hiding something. And yet, Maggie felt no impulse to distrust Jackson Clay. On the contrary, she felt right at home in his monster of a pickup truck.

Jack poked his head through the driver side window before he hopped in. “Hang on a sec, we have a ride-along.”

What the hell was he talking about? She craned her neck around and saw what he meant. She was simultaneously horrified and impressed. Jack was helping the bloody Chet Easley, drunk and slumped at the foot of a lamp post. He hoisted that good-for-nothing into the bed of his pickup like he was nothing more than a rotted tree limb. And drunk farmer weight isn’t nothing.

Moments later, they delivered Chet to the emergency room. Maggie waited in the truck in front of the entrance to the Middleburg Hospital’s ER, as Jack helped Chet’s drunk ass out of the truck and in through the sliding doors. 

Jack was actually taking the time to check him in and everything. What would he do, wait with him until he could be seen? That could take all night! 

A few minutes passed and Jack came back out and drove them away, silent. She studied his profile in the dark cab as he drove, the occasional set of headlights illuminating that inscrutable face. 

“How is he?” she said.

“Drunk. Probably broken nose. Still an asshole. But he’ll be all right and back to his old tricks in a few days, I’m sure.”

“That was incredibly kind of you to drive him to the hospital.”

“Probably too nice. I should have left him alone, passed out in the parking lot, and let the turkey vultures have a go at him.”

“Lord knows he’d deserve that. You’re a good person, Jackson Clay.”

“Nah, I’m just a person.”

“Don’t be so humble!”

“It’s fine to fantasize about your enemies getting what they deserve, but we’re all just a bunch of fuck-ups in one way or another.”

“Chet’s fuck-uppery is just a little hard to stomach for me. Statutory rape… Damn. I don’t know that I would have made sure he was OK.”

“We all make mistakes in life.”

“You are far too nice about it. Is it a man code kind of thing?”

“Hell no. Some dudes just don’t think past the tip of their dicks when they’re making decisions. Sorry for the image.”

“No apology necessary. It’s just a sensitive subject for me, and I’ll leave it at that. I’m still going to maintain that you’re a good guy. You should have a white hat, not a gray one.”

They had talked all the way back to the farm, and continued talking as Jack parked the truck under the oak tree at the front of the house, still talking. Maggie checked her flip phone that Lily had purchased for her. It was after 11. Had they really talked that long? 

There was a sudden lull in the conversation, and it felt as if they were ending a date. A very weird blind date that she didn’t want to end. She liked being next to him. Or rather, next to his hat that lay on the console between them because it could not fit on his head while driving due to his height. She liked the smell of the outdoors he emanated. He was the real deal. She looked at him in the moonlight. He was quite a bit older than she was. Maybe she should be careful. 

It was probably her “daddy issues” catching up with her. Or lack of a daddy. Wasn’t this how she’d screwed everything up? Having no father figure in her life, she’d latched on to the first guy who was nice to her. And now she was back to square one, developing a little crush on an older man who’d simply been doing the community a favor by punching Chet Easley’s lights out. It was probably no more than that. Don’t get a crush. Crushes lead to attachments, and attachments to anyone but yourself and to family will just lead to trouble.

“Well, here we are…” She smiled. “Thanks for taking me home. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight.”

Why wasn’t he saying anything? He was so mysterious. 

Jack made eye contact with her there in the dark and held it for several beats. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t. Could he possibly be thinking of kissing her? No. That’s crazy. She was definitely losing her mind. 

He turned away and opened his door, jogged around to the passenger side of the truck, and opened her door for her. 

“Thank you,” she said. Could she even remember the last time someone held the door for her? She could not. Who was this guy? She remembered Iowa men being basically polite, but they were quiet, unassuming, reticent people. They held doors for other people out of necessity. This guy had manners from another time and place altogether. 

Jack walked her up to the front porch and opened the door for her, which she’d left unlocked. In all her time here, she never even had seen a house key, let alone used one. That was the way of things in Middleburg.

She shot him a questioning look. “Thanks again, have a good night.”

But instead of replying in kind, he just sort of stood there, staring at her awkwardly. 

“Look, Jack, I’m not going to invite you in. I just don’t think that’s a good thing for me right now. I’m sorry if you got the wrong idea.”

He looked down at her, still propping the door open and smirked and looked up at the ceiling. “Well you see, that’s just it. This is my home.”

“Excuse me?” Weak. She knew right away he was not messing with her. 

He gestured around the room. “This house. That sofa. Those barns out there. Mine. I bought it. Well, the bank did, but my name is on the deed.”

She was beginning to understand, but then a million more questions popped into her head. “Mama said she’d hired a manager, is that you?”

“In a manner of speaking. She didn’t tell you she sold the farm?”

“Sold the farm?! No! Why would she invite me to stay here if the farm didn’t belong to her anymore?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to do now?”

“You’re a big girl, you’ll figure it out.”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn’t mean ‘big,’ you’re not big. You’re perfect. Maybe too thin, if I’m being honest.”

“Accusing me of being skinny is not any better than pointing out a woman being so-called ‘big.’” She glared.

“I meant…old. Not old. Old enough.”

“You said you were 42, you literally could be my father, so what the hell are you saying to me?”

“I mean…you seem like you have a good head on your shoulders. That’s all.”

He blushed deeply and was talking so fast she realized she had really thrown him. She laughed, and he looked so relieved. He was too easy to fuck with. 

“How about I make some coffee and we have a chat about Mrs. Blaise.”

His title for Mama Jane made her smile. Nobody but bankers and preachers ever called her that. 

Over the late-night coffee session, Maggie studied Jack, who warmed his hands around the mug. It was a big, no-nonsense ceramic mug that had no place in Mama Jane’s bright yellow kitchen. Mama Jane’s mugs were all teal, purple and orange. And where had all the mismatched striped and polka-dotted window curtains disappeared to?

This was a strange set of circumstances, and she was not happy. 

Not that she was unhappy to look at Jack’s unbelievably handsome face. But until a few minutes ago, Maggie had thought she was coming home to spend some time to decompress and eventually spend time with her mama on the farm before she retired. Once Jane returned from Greece, Maggie had visualized them together, baking in the kitchen, laughing at the chickens, petting the wether goats, shopping for fine antiques in town, now that Mama didn’t have any rowdy kids around to break everything in sight.

“Let me get this straight. My mom tells me I can come home and stay while she’s on vacation, and then she’s going to retire when she returns. Meanwhile, there’s a live-in manager on the premises. But she fails to tell me she is already retired and has sold the farm to you?”

“What were her exact words?”

Maggie looked up, trying to jog her memory. “She said, ‘Honey, I told the new guy you were coming for a visit and he agreed it will be OK with him. It’s all in our agreement until I have my retirement party. I wanted an open-door policy for all my kids until then.”

“Well,” Jack said, rubbing his chin as if he was trying to hide a smile. “It sounds like she intentionally left parts out but didn’t exactly lie.”

“But I don’t understand. What did she tell you?”

“She told me she had a renter coming to town to get away from the city and work on the farm for a few weeks. She said she’d forgotten it was an Airbnb rental she had already committed to before we closed on the property, and asked me if I would honor that. I told her that was pretty unusual, but it is a big house and that it shouldn’t be a problem.”

Maggie was utterly gobsmacked. “Well, all of that is actually not true. Why would she tell you that?”

Jack’s face darkened, as if he’d just thought of something. He looked deadly serious. “Maggie, when was the last time you spoke with your mom? I mean, before you asked her if you could come and stay?”

Maggie shored herself up for this odd question. That was rather personal. But she did appreciate him referring to Jane as her mom. Not everybody did. “I don’t know. Why?”

He cleared his throat and seemed hesitant. Then he drew a breath and looked deep into her eyes. They sat across the Formica kitchen table from each other, but he may as well be melting her and absorbing her right into his soul. “I hate to even suggest this, Maggie. But is it possible Mrs. Blaise might be suffering from some kind of dementia?”

The nerve! “I would know if my own mother was sick!”

“That’s why I asked when it was you last spoke with her. Maybe if you spoke to her more often, you might have noticed a pattern of forgetfulness. I’ve seen this before.”

“My mama does not have dementia. But thanks for the input.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry. I’m just grasping at straws, trying to solve this mystery, same as you.”

“Fair enough. Well, I guess if you want to give me a ride into town, I’ll get a room at the Sunset Motel and figure out what to do next. I don’t want to be in your way.”

“Sweetie, the Sunset closed down about two years ago. Prostitution raid. Wow, it really has been a while since you’ve been home.”

Coming out of anybody else’s mouth, those words would have come off as a dig at her. But Jack’s face, and his expression as he gazed at her, made her feel anything but judged. Still. He presumed a lot. He presumed correctly, but none of this was his business.

“Maybe I could stay with Carrie, then. She already offered me a bartending job. Maybe she could use a nanny as well…”

Now Maggie was the one grasping at straws.

Jack reached across the table and patted her on the hand. “Listen. It’s late. You’ll stay here tonight and then in the morning, we’ll figure everything out. OK?”

“I don’t like any of this.”

“I’m sorry Mrs. Blaise didn’t paint the correct picture for either of us. But I for one feel like this happened for a reason, and maybe we both need to sleep on it.”

Sleep on it. Yes. Her back was aching and she sorely needed sleep. That was for the best. In the morning she would figure out what to do next.