Page 34 of Once Upon a Fall

“Right,” I say. “We’ve got to hang the curtains.”

“And not with hot glue.”

I shake my head. “Definitely not.”

The hot glue has become a joke between us. We’ve both used it often, but not enough that it’s gotten old.

“I don’t know if I’ve said thank you enough for helping me this weekend.”

She definitely has. At least a dozen times.

I lift a shoulder. “It’s been good to have something to keep me busy. I don’t mind it.”

“So, you don’t have any work to do for your consulting business right now?”

“I took the month off,” I say. “I have a contract with a company in Manhattan starting in October.”

“Is it weird traveling so much for work? When do you ever get to go home?”

I stare at her, my eyes focusing on the way her brows pinch when she’s curious about something.

“Oh no. I’ve said something wrong. You’re doing the straight line of disapproval again.” She points to my mouth.

“What?” I ask her, not following.

“Your lips,” she says. “They pull into a straight line when you don’t approve of something.”

I touch my lips with my fingers, confused. “I . . . they do?”

Her cheeks turn the lightest color of pink. “I’m sorry,” she says, her words tinged with a nervous-sounding laugh. “I’ve said too much. Just pretend I didn’t say that.”

“I can’t now,” I tell her. “Apparently I’ve got some disappointed expression I had no idea I was making.”

Here I thought I was good at schooling my expressions. It turns out I’m just putting it all out there for everyone to see. Or maybe it’s just Rosie that would pick up on it.

“Disapproval. It’s the straight line of disa—you know what? I’m just going to shut up now.” The color on her cheeks deepens.

“I don’t disapprove of the question, though. I was just figuring out how to answer it.”

“Oh?” she asks, her eyebrows moving up her forehead as if to say go on.

“I don’t really have a place I call home,” I tell her. “I had an apartment in Boston, but I was never there, so I got rid of it and put my stuff in storage.”

“And you’re okay with that? Not having a home?”

I chuckle. “It sounds bad when you say it, but it’s been fine. I travel so much for work that I don’t really need a place.”

“But you don’t have a home base. Not even wherever your family is?”

“I only have my mom, and she moves around a lot.” And she’s currently on her way to the desert, which she hates. I don’t say that part, though. It’s not a straightforward story.

“What about your dad?”

“He’s around somewhere. I never knew him,” I tell her. “He was out of the picture before I was even born, according to my mom, and I haven’t bothered trying to find him.”

Rosie’s doing the brow-pinching thing again. I can see how this would be strange to her, with her family all so close, all living in the same town and going to football games together. This town will always be home to her because of that.

“But you do have a farm,” she finally says.