Free At First Sight by Nicholas Sparks Page B

chicken pesto sandwich on pumpernickel bread.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” he protested. “There’s just a lot going on, that’s all.”
“She knows that. But she also wants you to feel like you belong here. That you’re happy here.”
“I am happy here.”
“You’re happy because you’re with Lexie, and she knows that. But you have to understand, deep down Lexie wants you to feel the same way about Boone Creek that she does. She doesn’t want you here just because of her, she wants you here because this is where your friends are. Because this is where you feel like you belong. She knows it was a sacrifice for you to move from New York, but she doesn’t want you to think of it that way.”
“I don’t. Believe me, I’d be the first to tell her if I felt that way. But . . . c’mon . . . Rodney or Jed?”
“Believe it or not, they’re good guys once you get to know them, and Jed tells the funniest jokes I’ve ever heard. But okay, if you don’t relax the way they do, maybe they’re not the right ones.” She brought a finger to her lips, thinking. “What did you do with friends in New York?”
Went to bars with Alvin, flirted with women, Jeremy thought. “Just . . . guy stuff,” he said instead. “Went to ball games, shot pool every now and then. Just hung out, mainly. And I’m sure I’ll make friends, but as I said, I’m busy right now.”
Doris evaluated his answer. “Lexie says you’re not writing.”
“I’m not.”
“Is it because of . . . ?”
“No, no,” he said, shaking his head. “It has nothing to do with feeling out of place or anything like that. Writing isn’t like other jobs. It’s not just about showing up and going through the motions. It’s more about creativity and ideas, and sometimes . . . well, you just don’t feel creative. I wish I knew how to tap into my creative source whenever I wanted, but I don’t. But if I’ve learned anything about writing in the last fifteen years, it’s that I know the inspiration will eventually come.”
“You can’t come up with an idea?”
“Not an original one. I’ve printed up hundreds of pages from the library computer, but every time I come up with something, I realize that I’ve already covered it before. Usually more than once.”
Doris thought about it. “Would you like to use my journal?” she asked. “I know you don’t believe what’s in it, so maybe you could . . . I don’t know, write an article about your investigation into it.”
She was referring to the journal she’d compiled in which she claimed to be able to predict the sex of babies. Hundreds of names and dates were included in the pages, including the entry that had predicted Lexie’s birth and the fact that she was a girl.
To be honest, Jeremy had considered it-Doris had made the offer previously-but although he’d rejected it initially because he knew her abilities couldn’t be real, lately he’d rejected it because he didn’t want his true feelings to cause a rift with Doris. She was going to be family.
“I don’t know. . . .”
“I’ll tell you what. You can make your decision later, after you’ve studied it. And don’t worry-I promise that I’ll be able to handle being famous if you do end up writing about it. You don’t have to worry. I’ll still be the same charming woman I’ve always been. It’s in the office. Wait here.”
Before Jeremy had the chance to object, she was rising from the table and heading for the kitchen. In her absence, the front door opened with a squeak and Jeremy saw Mayor Gherkin enter.
“Jeremy, my boy!” Gherkin exclaimed, approaching the table. He slapped Jeremy on the back. “I didn’t expect to find you here. I thought you might be out pulling water samples, searching for clues regarding our latest mystery.”
The catfish.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Mayor. How are you?”
“Good, good. But busy. Town business never stops. There’s always so much to do. Barely sleep at all these days, but