Harvest Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

caught me on my way.”
    “Then I won’t keep you, but…” She hesitated, a far cry from her usual certainty with most matters. “I believe I owe you an apology.”
    “What for?”
    “When you first told us about your plans, I may have acted…” She paused. “…unsupportive, I suppose. Maybe you’ll finally be happy there.”
    Three years into his recovery, everyone still worried he’d slip back into old habits. A little confidence in him would go a long way. Long-term resentment pulsed beneath his skin, but he bit back any snide remarks. She’d never understand how his adoption into the Jamieson family made him feel like an outsider peering through the window of a world where he didn’t belong. Combined with his father’s constant disregard, Trent had learned to turn to other places for happiness—at least he had up until three years ago.
    “I have been happy, Mom.” He instantly regretted the snap and softened his approach. “You’re coming to Sophie’s birthday party, right?”
    “Of course we are. Duncan insisted. We’re going to use the time in Connecticut to visit some other friends in Litchfield the next day. Remember Ham and Nora Ellsworth?”
    “I do. So then I’ll see you tomorrow night. Jay’s expecting me at the farm, so I need to run.”
    Trent ended the call and drove into town. The noon sun hung high in the sky. People hurried along the sidewalks, popping in and out of pre-W.W.I. storefronts on the busy main drag. He was about to pull into a space in front of Sunny Side Up to grab some lunch, but a blue, white, and red striped barber pole a few blocks down caught his attention. He parked halfway between the two shops and headed to the barbershop for a trim.
    At an old windowed door, a sign overhead read, “Kenny’s Kuts and Shaves.” A bell tinkled when he pushed it open.
    Walls covered with dated paneling and faded newspapers, shouting dramatic headlines such as “Nixon Resigns” and one with a photo of President Kennedy, hung like relics of an era gone. An American flag had been stationed near an old campaign poster for Eisenhower. Trent’s gaze landed on a taxidermy stuffed raccoon mounted high on the wall, giving him second thoughts about staying.
    “Can I help you?” An older man with thick white hair and wearing a dark blue smock with “Kenny” written on the pocket continued to clip his customer’s hair.
    “Any chance I can get a trim?”
    “Sure. Gimme a few.” He tipped his head toward a lineup of chairs. “Have a seat. He’s not waiting. You’re next.”
    Trent tried not to flinch when Northbridge First Selectman Buzz Harris stared back at him from one of the chairs. His suit jacket lay over the chair beside him, and a crumbled sandwich wrapper next to a nearly finished Snapple littered the seat.
    “Hello, Buzz. I haven’t seen you since RGI pulled their bid.” He inwardly cringed, wanting to slap a hand over his own big mouth. The large-scale resort plans, which had brought the Jamiesons back to Northbridge nine months ago, may have been the wrong subject to open with.
    Buzz cleared his throat. “Your brother told me he’d offered you a job at the vineyards.”
    “Yup.” Trent glanced at the worn floorboards before meeting Buzz’s hard stare. Buzz was the one person Trent had worried about running into once he’d decided to make this place his home. “I start my work there today, as a matter of fact.”
    Trent took a place a few seats away from Buzz, aware of an awkward stillness in the air, as if he’d walked into the wrong classroom at school. He cleared his throat. “You should stop by the vineyards sometime. The place is really coming together.”
    Buzz pressed his lips tight.
    Only a handful of people in town knew about Trent’s family’s history in Northbridge. Buzz was one of them. What had happened at Buzz’s house long ago left Trent embarrassed by his actions, but he’d hoped by now Buzz and his wife had moved on and forgiven him.