45. Marnie
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Marnie
Monday morning at the G&G, I’m met with a bewildering surprise. It’s not even eight when I pull up, ready to organize my thoughts for our 10 o’clock all-hands meeting. But despite the early hour, I find not one but all three of my misfits—Wade, Christie, and Roy—already at work and dressed up.
“You fellas look… nice. What’s all this?” I ask, approaching the counter and eyeing their new looks.
Christie’s long gray hair is swept up into a high man-bun, neat and tidy. He’s freshly shaven, wearing lip gloss, and donning his mother’s emerald earrings, which I already know, he only brings out on special occasions. He’s in a silky Bermuda shirt, jeans, and Birkenstocks rather than his usual clogs.
Wade’s improvements are more subtle. His trimmed beard matches his tucked-in plaid button-down and combed-back hair.
Roy has undergone a total makeover. His jeans, dirty t-shirts, and falling-apart sneakers have been replaced with what I call 80s biker couture. His black leather pants, which look entirely uncomfortable, match his jacket, and both are adorned with silver chains and doodads. He wears motorcycle boots, a band t-shirt, tucked in, and has buzzed off the remains of his hair. He’s almost completely bald. He gnaws on a toothpick in his mouth, and I fear he might choke on it.
“What’s wrong, Marnie? It’s not okay for us to make an effort?” Roy huffs.
“It’s wonderful to see you make an effort,” I chime in, “but I only wonder, why? Not for our meeting, surely.”
They glance at each other uncertainly.
“Well, my clean-up is just a coincidence. But they heard your mom’s in town, didn’t they?” Wade says, looking sheepish.
“What?” I demand, aghast. “You aim to try flirty business with my mom?”
“We only want to look nice, in case she comes by. That’s all,” Christie says.
“ I’m trying flirty business,” Roy corrects. “Grady won’t mind me getting your mom a nightie. She doesn’t work here, so it’s not inappropriate. See? I remember the rules.” He taps his forehead proudly.
“It’s still inappropriate.” I groan. “ Et tu , Christie?”
“I always make an effort, Marnie,” he reminds me. “She’s your mom. You’re getting a second chance with her. I wanted to look nice, so she feels comfortable with us.”
“She ain’t gonna feel comfortable with our freaking Hells Angel over here,” Wade quips, turning to Roy. “You damn numpty.”
“I thought a redheaded hair stylist might like flair,” Roy defends. “It gives me an edge.”
“The only edge you’ll see is the one she pushes you over,” Wade chuckles. “Marnie, I apologize on their behalf. It was a dumb idea. Not our first. Won’t be our last.”
I huff out a sigh, holding back my laughter. I take a quick picture of them and text it to Grady with the caption: The fellas found out Mom is in town.
He texts back a minute later. Fuckheads. I’ll swing by at lunch. I don’t want to miss that shitshow.
A warm smile emerges. I hoped he might join us to tour Wade’s available trailers. I have time at my little cottage, but Mom and Tilly need something sooner.
Now, I stare down my three friends, still shaking my head over their brazen efforts. “Well, gentlemen, maybe it’s your lucky day. Mom’s dropping by at lunch. She wants to see what’s available to rent.” I hold a finger up and put on my best stern face. “But the last time a guy flirted with her in a way she didn’t like, he ended up with a broken penis.”
“What? That’s not a thing,” Roy argues, jolting up in his chair.
“I’ve heard of it,” Christie nods solemnly. “Male gymnasts get it when they fall wrong on the pommel horse.”
“That’s right,” I agree, though I’m clueless, and Mom’s not violent. But they don’t need to know that. “He had to go to the hospital. Ice and heat for weeks.”
“Dang, what’d he say to her?” Roy asks, wide-eyed.
“Don’t know, but I wouldn’t want to find out the hard way.”
They wince simultaneously. I hide my inner smile—I doubt they will risk flirting now.
“Wade, can we talk?” I wave my notebook toward the office nook I created in a large closet in the backroom. He nods, shifting between his friends as they heckle him.
“Uh, oh, that sounds like trouble,” Christie coos.
“Like being called to the principal’s office,” Roy laughs. “Best cover your penis, Wade. The apple might not fall far from the tree.”
They laugh as we disappear behind The Canteen.
The “office” is a shelf nailed into the wall with a small desk lamp and a pen holder. It isn’t glamorous, but it’s the best I could do since I reclaimed most of the backroom for the selling floor. He sits in a repurposed lawn chair, and I take the desk stool.
“It’s time to renegotiate. You’re dealing only with me now, not Grady. I want him out of it.”
I expect an argument, but Wade leans up. “I’m listening.”
I flip my green notebook open and run through the numbers again. “Business has increased drastically, but so has our spending. Our billboard will be up soon. Peter Pike is starting on our gator observation deck today, and we still have more to do before our Memorial Day Extravaganza. The bottom line is, I work for you, and you can’t afford me.”
“I’ll fire Roy.”
“No, you won’t,” I scoff. “We need everyone for our grand reopening. We have a month until then. Pay me whatever the budget allows. Hopefully, we’ll increase sales to afford me permanently. If not, the Extravaganza will be my last hurrah at the G&G.”
His shoulders slump, and he purses his lips like his brain is working overtime to devise a solution. But I already know there isn’t one. If not for the Sullivans’ severance, I wouldn’t have been able to stay this long. I tug my previous paychecks free from the binder and hand them over. “Please, return Grady’s money and free him from whatever obligations he promised to get me this job.”
“Fine, but I’m keeping his shares,” Wade says, accepting the checks. “I deserve majority ownership of this place, and he’s one less kid I have to pay out profits to. Besides, I did him a favor.”
“Grady gave up his shares for me?”
“Yep.”
I swoon. Ah, Grady. “Well, that’s between you two. At the all-hands meeting, we’ll brainstorm more ways to get customers in here, so let’s brew a fresh pot of coffee, huh?”
The brainstorming goes surprisingly well. Making an effort with his clothes inspires Roy with better ideas, like offering a G&G delivery service.
“You said to think about what our customers need,” he explains. “The pizza guy’s on this road a dozen times a day. Why not get your eggs and beer delivered, too? That’s something Sunny’s doesn’t have.”
Marigold offers the design for our new billboard, going up later this week, featuring groceries, grub, and gators—it’s her best work yet. Even better, it’ll go up near Sunny’s parking lot. Travelers won’t miss it, and, for once, they’ll have a choice.
Grady arrives around the same time as Mom and Tilly, and they funnel into our meeting together. They meet Marigold, Peter, and Wren before rounding to the boys. Christie trips over his Birkenstocks, rising to greet her. Roy looks a bit more guarded, his hand hovering in front of his crotch awkwardly as I introduce him, and he barely speaks, as if afraid the wrong thing might come out. Good.
Mom is quite lovely, with her fiery hair, full curves, and bright personality, and Wade must think so too. Their handshake lingers between them, and we’re all surprised by the gentleness in his voice when he says, “We love Marnie and hope you find a home here with us too. You and Tilly.”
He then offers Tilly his hand for a high-five. Tilly giggles, slapping it and saying, “You’re a funny bunny.”
Wade straightens at this and hesitantly glances at his friends, as if worried they might start referring to him this way. “Better than being a grumpy Gus, I suppose.” He scratches his head, mussing his combed hair.
A bubbly laugh erupts from my sister, filling the room. Grady and I share an amused grin.
“How sweet,” Mom coos. “I appreciate it, Wade. Once I’m settled, I’ll give you all free haircuts to say thanks.”
All three men run their hands over their heads sheepishly.
Leaving the rest to run the store, Wade takes us to The Marshes to tour the trailers available to rent. A wide dirt road leads into the woods, flanked by trailers on each side, starting with Wade, Roy, and Christie’s. Though somewhat dated, the homes are clean and well-maintained. An older couple waves at us from their screened-in front porch. Children Tilly’s age wobble on bikes up and down the lane. A family hangs wet beach towels on clotheslines as we pass. It’s a cozy, homey place tucked in and tidy.
Wade has a two and a three-bedroom to rent, but Mom’s quick to take the larger home.
“In case you ever need a place, Marnie,” she says, “and if you don’t, it’ll make a lovely craft room for Tilly and me. I make my own jewelry these days.” Her pink fingernails dance over a chunky beaded necklace in greens and pinks, matching her army green pants and delicate pink blouse. Mom has always been thrift-store chic.
It’s an adorable home, white with blue shutters and a screened porch ready for plants. It has a small side garden where Tilly wants to plant wildflowers to bring butterflies. Mom hands over the security deposit and first month’s rent, cash from a hot pink, zippered make-up pouch she’s always used to collect her tip money.
“Welcome to The Marshes,” Wade says, shaking her hand again.
While they discuss the place and make move-in arrangements, Grady pulls me to the pier for a little us-time before he returns to the clinic. Bessie loiters nearby, gently hovering over the water amid the green muck, eyeing us suspiciously. Last week, Wade spotted her egg den on the other side of the swamp. Soon, gator babies will fill the swampy nursery, just in time for our new decking.
“Will you move in with them?” Grady asks, tucking his hands into the pockets of his scrubs. “I mean, I get it since you just got them back. I mean, hopefully, they’ll stay. You know what’s best, and I support you. But I’m here, too. I’d love to live with you. We could have last night every night. So, my offer still stands, regardless.”
A giggle slips out of me over his obvious nervousness, and I blush over memories of last night. Waking under the hovering trees, the air cold but warm against him felt heavenly. He really wants me to live with him. Already. His strong and sudden commitment to me is such a weird feeling. A good feeling, though, that I’m enjoying with caution. Who doesn’t long to feel this wanted?
He steps closer, slipping his hands around my waist and nuzzling my forehead. “ You and me, babe… how ‘bout it? ” he hums, making me giggle again.
Then, he sways softly in a gentle dance before dipping me. “I promise music and chess every night.”
“Oh, Grady Tripp, I like the sound of it. What else will you promise me?”
“Homemade meals, coffee every morning, free animal care, and unlimited cat treats, of course.”
“Of course, but sometimes a girl likes flowers.”
“Oh, I’ll get you flowers. And braid your hair,” he says, snuggling against me. “And let you have the remote.”
I laugh. “You won’t mind my obsession with PBS and British TV?”
“Nope. I encourage it, especially if it wins us words like numpty . As long as you’re okay with me, old-man drifting off to sleep watching nature shows.”
“Heck, no. I love it. Oh, Grady, we’re going to be the boringest couple ever,” I beam, leaning in for a kiss. “I can’t wait.”
“Is that a yes then?” he asks, kissing me again.
All the romantic wheels turning in my head come to a sudden, squealing stop. “Um, it’s a maybe?”
His eyes squint, considering me. “Did I forget to mention all the amazing sex you could possibly want?”
“Oh, I know,” I chuckle. “It’s not that.”
“Tell me. What is it?” When I hesitate, he adds, “Truth.”
“Truth is, I have a month before I need to move, a month until I’ll probably be out of a job again,” I say, shoulders deflating. “I don’t want to rush. What if my next job is an hour away?”
“Then, you’ll commute,” he says sternly. “Or we’ll move somewhere else together.”
“It’s not just that. Leaving that cottage scares me.”
“What? Why?”
“It’s my home, Grady. That place has been my saving grace for a decade. First, it comforted me after Mom left. Then, it let me be myself, building me up when there was no one else to do it. After that day, it was my safety net, my healing place. When I started at the G&G, all I had to do was look around my little place, and all I’d built to feel I could do anything. It’s hard, letting it go. Not because I don’t want to live with you. I’d pick living with you over Mom, of course. It’s just because… I don’t want to be without it. Yet. ”
I fear I sound ridiculous, putting so much sentimental value in a tiny house. But for better or worse, it’s how I feel. That long chapter of my life is over—I must leave. But is it wrong to extend the epilogue until the last possible minute?
He sighs. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”
“Really?”
“Of course, but here’s what I think we should do.” He latches onto me again. “Whenever you stay the night, bring something of yours over. And whenever I stay the night with you, I’ll take something when I leave. Seeing your things a little at a time at my place might help ease you into the idea.”
I almost tear up over how sweet and understanding he is. “Kiss me.”
He takes my face in his hands and gives me the kind of kiss that makes me want to take him somewhere— anywhere —right this instant.
“We’ll start tonight,” I say, breathlessly. “I’ll come over for chess.”
His coy grin widens. “Yeah, chess. Perfect.”