One Hundred Humbugs (Aspen Cove #25)

Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Ruby woke with the first light of dawn, her mind already racing with plans for the day ahead. The events of yesterday played through her mind—Becket’s easy laughter, the way he’d looked at her over his coffee mug, the surprising fun of watching goats demolish her yard. She shook off the warm, fuzzy feeling that threatened to take root. This was temporary, she reminded herself. Clean up, sell, get out. That was the plan.

Still, as she padded to the kitchen in her worn slippers, a twinge of ... something settled in her chest. Anticipation, maybe? Or just indigestion from yesterday’s questionable peanut butter?

The fridge greeted her with its usual barren landscape. Ruby sighed, eyeing the lone occupant—a block of cheese that had somehow managed to grow greener than the entire yard. She closed the door, half-afraid the cheese might sprout legs and walk away on its own.

“Alright, Rubes,” she muttered to herself, “time to get creative. Goat Whisperer out there deserves better than stale crackers two days in a row. ”

After some rummaging through the pantry, Ruby emerged victorious with her spoils: a can of baked beans and a tin of Spam that looked like it might have survived a nuclear apocalypse.

Determined to make the best of it, Ruby set about cooking their meager feast. She dumped the beans into a pot, stirring them as they heated on the ancient stove. The Spam she sliced and tossed into a pan, where it sizzled and filled the kitchen with a scent that was equal parts nostalgic and concerning.

Ruby laughed to herself as she plated up her culinary masterpiece, struck by the absurdity of it all. She peered out the kitchen window, searching for signs of life in the yard. Becket’s tent was still zipped up, but she noticed movement inside. The goats were in their temporary pen at the far end of the yard, near where the grass gave way to scattered trees.

“Hope you’re ready for a real treat, Becket,” she called out as she headed to the porch, balancing two plates. “We’re having a five-star breakfast of beans à la tin and artisanal preserved meat product!”

She set the plates down on the small porch table and settled into a chair, scanning the yard. Just as she was about to take a bite, Becket emerged from his tent, stretching and running a hand through his tousled hair.

“Morning, Ruby!” he called out, his joy visible even from a distance. “Wow, breakfast service too? You’re spoiling me.” He glanced at the goat pen and then back at Ruby with a grin. “Give me two minutes to let these guys out, and I’ll join you.”

Ruby watched, amused, as Becket made his way to the goat pen. As soon as he unlatched the gate, the goats eagerly pushed their way out, spreading across the yard with enthusiasm. One exuberant goat pranced around Becket, bleating happily.

“You know,” Becket called out between laughs as he made sure all the goats were out, “I think these guys are more excited about their breakfast than we are about ours!”

True to his word, he was soon bounding up the porch steps, out of breath but still smiling. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he took in the breakfast spread.

“Well, this looks ... interesting,” he said, settling into the chair across from her. “I appreciate the effort. Beats my usual granola bar on the go.”

As they ate, Ruby relaxed into easy conversation with Becket. There was something comforting about his presence, a steadiness that made her feel grounded despite the chaos of her current situation. They watched the goats grazing in the yard, some venturing toward the edge of the wooded area, which sat within the fenced property, in search of tasty leaves and shrubs.

The day passed in a blur of dust and discoveries. Ruby unearthed more of Uncle Peter’s eclectic collection—vintage cameras that looked like they belonged in a museum, a box full of novelty shot glasses from every state, including ones Uncle Peter had definitely never visited, and enough books to stock a small library.

Every so often, she’d peek out the window, catching glimpses of Becket as he kept an eye on the goats, occasionally straightening a patch of fencing or clearing debris. Once, she could have sworn she saw him doing a little dance with one of the goats near the edge of the wooded area, twirling it around like a furry dance partner. The sight made her laugh out loud, a sound that seemed foreign in the quiet house.

As the afternoon wore on, Ruby took more and more breaks to chat with Becket. She told him about her life in Chicago, the soul-crushing corporate job she’d left behind, and the freelance career that had promised freedom but delivered mostly stress and unpaid invoices.

A knock at the door broke Ruby’s focus. She got up and opened it to find Becket standing there, water bottle in hand.

“Mind if I refill this?” he asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

“You don’t have to ask, you can just come in,” she said, stepping aside to let him through.

He smiled and headed for the sink. “Thanks,” he said, as he refilled the bottle and glanced out the window at the goats. Ruby returned to the kitchen table, her fingers moving through the clutter in the open box.

Her hand brushed against something cool and smooth. “What’s this?” she muttered, pulling out an old mason jar. Her eyes widened as she unscrewed the lid and poured out the contents. Coins clattered onto the floor, along with a few crumpled bills.

“Well, would you look at that,” Becket said, glancing over as he screwed the cap back onto his bottle. “Looks like your uncle left you a little treasure after all.”

Ruby counted, her heart racing. It wasn’t a fortune by any means, but it was enough for a decent grocery run. Maybe even a nice dinner out. She looked up at Becket, excitement dancing in her eyes. “Hey, what do you say we treat ourselves to dinner in town? I heard there’s a place called Maisey’s that’s supposed to be good.”

Becket’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? I mean, you don’t have to?—”

“I’m not,” Ruby interrupted with a grin. “Uncle Peter is. Come on, it’ll be fun. Plus, I could use a break from all this dust.”

Before they left, Ruby and Becket stepped outside to check on the goats. The animals grazed, content and unaware of the world beyond the fence.

“They should be fine,” Becket said, giving the fence a once-over. “I’ll check on them when we get back.”

Satisfied, they walked into town. Twenty minutes later, they entered Maisey’s Diner. The bell above the door jingled as they stepped inside, and the aroma of coffee and home-cooked food filled the air. The diner looked like it hadn’t changed much since the 1950s, with its red vinyl booths and chrome-edged tables. A few heads turned to look at the newcomers, curiosity in their gazes.

A thin woman with a neatly styled bob approached them, wiping her hands on an apron tied snugly around her waist. Her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

“Well, hello there! Don’t think I’ve seen you two around before. I’m Maisey, and this here’s my place. What brings you to Aspen Cove?”

“Hi, I’m Ruby Whitaker,” she said. “I inherited my Uncle Peter’s house?—”

“Peter Whitaker’s niece!” Maisey exclaimed, her face lighting up. “Well, I’ll be! Your uncle was a regular here. It’s so good to meet you, honey.” She turned to Becket.

“Becket Shepherd,” he introduced himself with a nod. “I’m helping Ruby with some landscaping.”

“With goats,” Ruby added, unable to keep the amusement out of her voice.

Maisey’s eyes widened. “Goats? Well, now that’s a story I’ve got to hear. Come on in, let’s get you two settled. I hope you’re ready for some real food. Can’t have you wasting away on whatever’s left in that old house of Peter’s.” She grabbed two menus from behind the counter. “Before we get to that goat tale, how about I set you up with our blue plate special? It’s meatloaf tonight.”

Ruby and Becket exchanged glances. “Sounds great,” Ruby said, speaking for both of them.

“Perfect! Two blue plates coming right up,” Maisey said as she led them to a booth. Ruby noticed the other patrons watching with interest. In Aspen Cove, it seemed that news of a new face spread fast.

Once they sat down, Maisey asked, “What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll have a coffee,” Becket said, glancing at Ruby.

“Same for me,” Ruby added.

Maisey nodded. “Coming right up.”

A few minutes later, Maisey returned with two steaming cups of coffee. “Here you go. Food will be out soon.”

They sipped their drinks, chatting about the town. Not long after, Maisey appeared again, skillfully balancing two plates. She set them down with a flourish, proudly declaring, “The best damn meatloaf this side of the Rockies. Enjoy, you two!”

Ruby inhaled deeply, the savory aroma making her mouth water. She was about to dig in when a cheerful woman approached their table with a wave.

“Hi, I’m Katie! I own B’s Bakery across the street. You should stop by sometime—first treat is on me,” she said. Next to her stood a tall man with an easygoing grin, holding the hand of a little girl who was clinging to his leg.

“This is my husband, Bowie, and our daughter, Sahara,” Katie added. Sahara, about five years old, peeked out shyly before grinning up at Ruby.

“Nice to meet you,” Ruby said, warmed by the family’s kindheartedness.

As they settled in, a few other townspeople wandered over to introduce themselves, each offering a friendly word or invitation. Even Sheriff Aiden Cooper, who had been sitting across the room, stopped by to shake Ruby and Becket’s hands.

By the time they started eating, Ruby’s nerves had eased. The food was delicious, the company lively, and the whole diner gave the impression of a tight-knit community welcoming her in. Even the scratchy old country tunes from the jukebox added to the cozy appeal of the place.

After dinner, Ruby insisted they stop by the Corner Store. “We can’t keep living on canned beans and Spam,” she told Becket as they perused the aisles. “Besides, I think that cheese in the fridge is plotting a takeover. I swear I heard it muttering ‘vive la revolution’ this morning.”

Becket laughed. The sound made Ruby’s heart do a little flip. “Well, we can’t have a cheese uprising on our hands. That would be an embarrassing way to lose control of the house.”

They left the store laden with bags full of staples—bread, eggs, milk, and enough fresh produce to make Ruby feel like she was back in civilization. As they walked back to the house under a sky full of stars, Ruby stole glances at Becket. In the soft glow of the streetlights, he looked ... different. Softer, somehow. More real.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight,” Ruby said as they reached the front porch. “It was nice to get out of the house for a bit.”

Becket smiled, and that now-familiar flutter stirred in Ruby’s stomach. “Thanks for inviting me. It was fun getting to know the town a little better. ”

They stood together, the cool evening air settling around them. Becket glanced toward the backyard, then back at Ruby. “I should check on the goats before it gets too late. They tend to get a bit adventurous in the evenings, with all those trees tempting them.”

Ruby nodded, watching as he walked away into the night, his figure gradually disappearing into the shadows cast by the trees at the far end of the yard. There was something steady and reassuring about him, like the town itself—a quiet strength that was beginning to grow on her.

As Ruby got ready for bed that night, her mind buzzed with the day’s whirlwind. The house still seemed like a mountain to climb, but now there was a glimmer of possibility in every cluttered corner. And Aspen Cove ... maybe it wasn’t quite the backwater she’d pegged it for. There was something irresistible about the town, a tight-knit community that felt worlds apart from her life in Chicago.

She picked up the photo of Uncle Peter she’d found earlier, studying his smiling face. “Okay, Uncle Peter,” she said. “I’m starting to see why you loved this place. What else do you have to show me?”