One and two-story houses along with several small cabins line the sides of the road just like the trailers did back in the town at the south side of the woods. But there’s nothing run-down here. Freshly painted houses sparkle under the setting sun, and not all of them are finished. A few studded houses stand behind dirt front yards with piles of lumber and drywall stacked out front.

But there are way more finished houses than unfinished ones. And I notice some startling similarities to the trailer town. A cute two-story terraced house sits in the same place as Meemaw's modular home. And just in case I think it’s not meant for her, it bears a sign that says Meemaw’s Garden Inn. There is also a large brick building at the top left corner of the cross with Charlie’s General Store painted across the top. And it sits in the same location that Charlie's trailer occupies in town.

It takes me a few minutes, but I soon figure out what I'm looking at. A town. This is the town that they're starting.

The place I've been living in is only a temporary establishment.

This….

This is the new town everybody keeps mentioning—the one everyone is so excited about.

I spot traces of new construction everywhere. A concrete truck sits idle in front of the foundation that's just been poured. A few of the finished houses are only painted on one side. And the town has a not quite there yet feeling to it, like a baby about to be born.

Waylon slows to a stop when the road ends abruptly at the top of the cross.

He climbs off and reaches over to lift me off the bike just like he did when I was still dressed in the heavy wedding gown.

This time I let him help me. I'm way too confused to protest.

As soon as my feet hit the ground, I rip my helmet off and start asking him all the questions. “So you were building an actual town? This whole time? Is this where Crazytown and all those other guys disappeared to every day? Are all these houses going to the people who are living in the trailers right now?”

He answers all of my questions with a single, “Yup.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” I demand, looking all around. “Why didn't anyone tell me?”

“Because I told them not to tell you.” He shrugs like compelling an entire community to silence is no big deal. “And when I give an order, I expect—”

“Yeah, I know,” I say, cutting him off before he can give me yet another reminder of just how powerful he is in this town—which he’s apparently named Angel Pond. But there's no heat in my voice. I'm too shocked to be irritated.