Chapter 7
CHARLIE
The phone won’t stop ringing, and I consider burying it in the broken filing cabinet in the corner of the office Raja and I share at the community center. But Raja’s eyes are on me, filled with quiet judgment, and I’ve already been in trouble once today.
Raja yelled this morning. And by yelled, I mean they used a very stern tone. Evidently, I need to go to the ER or urgent care if I’m injured on-site, even if I think it’s nothing.
“Charlie…” Raja says, sounding weary. “Please. Answer. The phone.”
I grab the receiver before it rings again, so my greeting might be a little snappy. “Chas Smith. Homes for Hope. Can I help you?”
“Hard day?” Gary, my project supervisor, sounds amused. “You called me first.”
“Right. Sorry. Can I get an update on the inspections and permits? What timeframe are we looking at? And any update on the associated costs? I’m also looking at the revised estimates for the foundation and stairs. So give me anything you’ve got on that too.”
“No problem. I’ll have it to you by…” He pauses. Is he checking his calendar?
“Today, Gary.” I blow out a breath. “I need it today.”
Writing a report is like putting together an ever-changing jigsaw puzzle. I gather the pieces from everyone on my team and put them together to give my boss—Raja—the revised picture. I can’t do it if any of the pieces are missing.
“Today?” He whistles. “That’s not much time.”
“End of business today,” I clarify. The need to give in, to not make waves, squirms in my body as I try to hold firm. And fail. “Or first thing tomorrow morning.”
“You got it.”
After the call ends, I focus on my emails, not wanting to see the look on Raja’s face. Giving people more time to get me what I need gives me less time to do what I need. But it’s fine. I’ll put together as much as I can today so I can be ready.
Brinnnnng.
If only the phone would stop ringing. As I grab the receiver, I imagine pounding it over and over on the desk until it’s in pieces. It gives me a small amount of satisfaction. “Chas Smith. Homes for Hope—”
“Charlie? Is that you?”
I don’t recognize the voice, but I recognize the tone.
Familiar. As if we’re friends and have been since forever.
This isn’t the first neighborly call I’ve had today.
And probably won’t be the last. I dart a glance at Raja.
They’re typing on the computer and not paying attention to my drama. Or faking it really well.
I take a steady breath. “This is Charlie. How can I help you?”
“Hey there, Charlie. This is Stan from the feed store. I heard from Holly that you were back in town and helping out at the community center. They were talking about it during book club over at the library.”
Oh Lord. “I’m not helping out. I’m working— Never mind. Did you need something?”
“Nope. Just wanted to say hello.”
“Okay, thanks for calling.”
“Wait. I do have one question. Do you know when they’re having the all-town trash pickup? We have an old, beat-up chair we need to get rid of.”
“No.” I press my free palm against my eyes, trying to keep it together. “How would I know that?”
“Your mom’s the mayor.”
Then call her. Or the city office. Or anyone but me. But I don’t say that. Instead, I use my professional adult voice. “I’m sorry, Stan. I don’t have that information.”
“That’s no problem. I just wanted to see how you’re holding up. Did you get tired of living in the big city?”
“Sorry, I have to go.”
After ending the call, I glance at Raja. They raise an eyebrow.
“The town’s excited I’m back,” I say in way of apology. “Well, not Dani Rae—”
Raja can convey so much with a look. And this one clearly says I need to stop talking. So I do. “How’s the report coming?” they ask.
“All good.”
I get a few hours of peace as I respond to emails and check stats. The time on my phone reminds me it’s late afternoon, and I worked through lunch again. In fact, school just let out. Dad will be home soon. Which means—nope. Not thinking about Coach Rathborn or his smile. Or those thick thighs.
The information from Gary with the updated numbers comes in, and I pounce on it. Now I can focus on my report.
I barely get started when a knock at the door startles me. Harper gives me a little wave. That’s when I realize Raja isn’t behind their desk. When did they leave?
Jumping to my feet, I motion for her to come in. Harper used to babysit me when she was a senior in high school. I don’t remember a lot from that time, but we used to have killer dance parties and play hide-and-seek. I was four or five, I think? She’s several years younger than Brad.
Today, her long curly hair is tied into two braids, one on each side of her face. She looks comfortable in jeans and a flannel shirt.
I give her a quick hug. “Good to see you, Harper. I’ve been meaning to drop by…” Except I have no idea where she lives. Harper moves around a lot.
“Ah, hell, Charlie. Don’t worry about it. I’m actually staying with Brad until I get back on my feet.”
I give her a smile, but lord, I’m an idiot. Harper has struggled with life for as long as I can remember. But she’s been without housing on and off for the last five years at least. Is that the reason Brad’s involved in Homes for Hope? To help people like Harper?
I motion to the chair in front of my desk. It’s just a folding chair since we’re striving to keep costs down. My report is waiting for me, and Raja could return at any minute, but I don’t have the heart to rush her.
“How have you been?” I ask, sitting behind my desk.
She shrugs. “I’m holding up.” Sliding into the chair, she scoots closer. “Brad says you might stick around this time. I hope that’s true.”
“Not you too, Harper.” I shake my head and cover my face.
She laughs, and it jerks me back to a happier time. As a kid, I was drawn to Harper’s joy for life. Where had that girl gone?
“Maybe stop being so lovable, squirt.”
“Hey!” But I laugh with her, and it releases some of the tension of the day.
She rests her arms on my desk. “I just want you to be happy, Charlie. Don’t let those a-holes run you off. Every town has people like that.”
“True.” Syd immediately comes to mind. “I seem to attract them.”
“Ha. Don’t we all.” Her braids swing as she rises to her feet. They’re tied with white-and-orange polka dot bows. “I won’t keep you from your very important work.” She taps my notepad full of scribbles.
I stand and turn it over as I walk around my desk. Did she notice her brother’s name and the little hearts? It was totally innocent. Those are the notes for my parents’ surprise anniversary party on Valentine’s Day. Not that I can tell her that.
I walk her to the door. “My work is important.”
Her smile is softer as she gently taps the side of my face.
“You’re a good person, Charlie.” She brushes a finger over the scar I got as a kid while playing in the creek.
I wonder at the sadness in her eyes. I’d do anything to get rid of it.
Her smile returns, looking forced, and then she hugs me.
And that feels real. “Don’t let my brother boss you around, squirt. You’re in charge.”
“I’ll try to remember that.” I hold her tight, trying to take away some of her pain. Pain that I don’t really understand.
She pulls back and holds my arms. “Just think of all the planks and squats he made you do. It’s payback time.” Her gaze darts past me. “Hey there, bro.”
I turn around so fast that I’m lightheaded. Or maybe that’s the sight of Brad, looking sexy as ever, in my office. My space.
His eyes are on his sister. “What are you doing here, Harper? You shouldn’t bother Charlie at work.”
She grins at him. “And yet, you’re here.”
“I’m— This is business.”
“Got it. Continue on.” She salutes him as she walks by and winks at me. “Later, Charlie.”
I don’t realize how close Brad is standing until Harper leaves. Did he grow taller in the four days since I saw him?
He tilts his head. “Working hard?”
That breaks the spell. “Actually, I am. The revised project assessment is due by Friday morning at eight, so I don’t have time to chat.” I sit at my desk, glad to have this Ikea-desk-disguised-as-furniture between us. “Just because you have free time— Wait. Why do you have free time, Brad?”
He chuckles as he moves the chair his sister just vacated around the desk and sits a few feet from me. Why does he seem so big? As if he’s filling the space. My space. “Is that a trick question?” he asks. “If I didn’t have free time, I wouldn’t be able to help with this project.”
“But what about wrestling. Aren’t there like a bazillion tournaments in February?”
“Not quite that many.” He smiles as if he’s enjoying me questioning his life choices. And why am I questioning him?
I want him to continue volunteering, but I can’t seem to help myself. I gesture toward the door. “Shouldn’t you be at practice or something?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I’m no longer the coach. I’m surprised no one said anything. Your mom or dad. Or anyone, really. Everyone in this town knows everybody else’s business.”
“Why would they do that?” Unexpected anger flashes through me. “You’re a great coach.”
“Hold on, Charlie.” He grabs my hands, maybe so I’ll stop waving them around. “No one did anything. I stepped down last year after the season was over. I wanted more time to focus on other things.”
My gaze shifts to the doorway. “Like Harper?”
“Yes. And other things I enjoy doing but didn’t have time for.” He catches my gaze. “Now, can we focus on why I’m here?”
“Of course. But I have tons of work to do— Wait.” I study his face. “Why are you here?”
He smiles, and it’s as bright as the sun streaming through my office window in the early morning. And I’m the small Jade plant on my desk stretching its leaves to capture the warmth.
Geesh, Charlie. Get a grip. But it’s not easy when Brad is still holding my hands and says, “I want to talk about Valentine’s Day.”