Chapter 8
Petula drove up her driveway after a very long day. She shook her head. Everything that could have gone wrong after her amazing time with Julian, had gone wrong.
First, during her initial delivery stop, she’d fumed because someone had packed her van backwards. The stuff she needed to drop off at the beginning of her route had been piled to the back of the stacks, and the things that were last on her docket were front and center.
That had sucked. She’d gone back to the hub, found the new person who’d been responsible for the debacle, and the two of them had repacked everything before Petula had returned to her route.
Then, half way into her day when she’d been delivering on the outskirts of town, she’d hit a pothole; something that was unavoidable in Maine as the permafrost thawed. There’d been a popping sound, and she’d almost lost control of the van.
Emerging, she’d seen that she’d sustained a flat tire.
She’d had to wait a half hour for UPS’s roadside assistance to come change it for her, but luckily, she hadn’t had to wait alone, which might have skeeved her out.
The rural mail delivery person had seen her troubles and voluntarily kept her company until the mechanic showed up.
That had been nice, but the whole incident had set her schedule back even more.
Her day had finally wrapped up late by a total of two hours, even though she’d whipped through her deliveries.
Then, when was just about to leave, her supervisor had summoned her into the office, telling Petula she was scheduled for a performance review first thing Monday morning, and that she needed to be in the office an hour before her normal shift.
Great. Now that would be looming over her head all weekend. She glanced upward. Was there already a black cloud there?
It was all crap, anyway. Petula didn’t need a review. She’d been doing a fine job. At least she thought she had. There’d been no complaints against her that she knew of.
Huh. Maybe this was a good review. Maybe they were going to give her a fat raise?
Right. A girl could dream.
Her new boss, Irma, was a bitch, and seemed to have it out for Petula, without the least bit of provocation.
Time would tell.
As Petula’s house came within sight, she wasn’t surprised at all to see a raft of trucks out front.
It was Friday night, and when Statler’s crew was local, they often ended up back here to have some beers and blow off steam.
At first, when they’d begun the Friday tradition, Petula had been uncomfortable with it. But that had been eight years ago, when Statler had started his own business after leaving the firm he’d been working for as a project manager.
Petula had been proud of him for daring to take the plunge, and knew she also deserved a few kudos.
Statler had left behind a decent paycheck and work security to build his own company.
Petula had helped make that possible by taking on some waitressing work at night to supplement her UPS paycheck, picking up their bills while he figured things out.
His success hadn’t taken long, because her brother was extremely good at what he did.
Yeah. They’d always made a good team. She was more grateful for Statler than anyone could ever know.
And now? She was also thankful for the six employees who had joined the company in the ensuing years.
It was like she’d picked up a half-dozen additional, older siblings; all people whom Statler trusted implicitly, which meant Petula did, too.
It didn’t hurt that they were individuals who’d worked with her brother in the Army Corp of Engineers before coming on board with him.
One by one, as they’d each reached the end of their time in service, they’d been eager to help Stat make his dreams come true, while also carving out a comfortable place for themselves.
Now, eight years later, they were the tightest bunch of not only co-workers, but friends who helped each other out with everything. Because of that, Petula had a whole bunch of people who watched over her as if she were their little sister.
“Here she is,” Dizzy cried out happily as Petula walked through the door.
“You’re late,” Stat added, tipping a brown bottle toward her, silently asking if she wanted one.
“Yes, and yes,” Petula told the bunch as she stepped into the melee. “It was a sucky day; loading was wrong, a flat tire, a sneak review coming Monday.” She sighed. “All that, means I’m in need of some serious decompression.”
One by one, every person came up and gave her a commiserating hug. She readily accepted them. It had taken her a while to get comfortable being touched, but each person on her brother’s crew had proven to be not only hard workers and upstanding citizens, but squishy pussycats, just like Statler.
Of course, he wouldn’t have hired them, otherwise.
The gang was certainly all here, tonight. Dizzy, Blue, Hazard, Sherbert, Tonka, and Pipes. Her brother’s besties.
They all had real names that weren’t their old military handles, but those had long ago become hazy in Petula’s mind since nobody ever used them. To her, these peeps were the greatest bunch on earth, and had all earned a special place in her heart.
She didn’t know how much her brother had shared with them about the family past, but she assumed it was enough to bring out all their protective instincts. For that, she was forever appreciative.
“Okay everybody. Let the working stiff sit down,” Blue finally ordered.
Petula found a seat, but gave a smirk, guessing that her comfort wasn’t the priority for Blue.
“Now spill it girl. Tell us about your breakfast date.”
Yup. She’d guessed right. Blue, the only female in the group, was always the nosy one, and hadn’t missed a beat to prod Petula as Statler handed her a beer.
Petula took a long swig, then narrowed her eyes at her audience, unable to stave off the blush as she turned her regard to her brother. “You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, huh?” she asked.
That didn’t begin to wipe the grin off his face. He simply rolled his free hand as if to say, “get on with it.”
Yup. Anything that happened in her life these days was scrutinized, ad nauseum, by all of these busy-bodies. There was no getting around this.
“I had a Danish and coffee,” she prevaricated.
“That’s not an answer, Petti,” Statler chided amusedly. “But I’m guessing by the color of your face, things went well.”
“Yeah. They did,” she informed the peanut gallery while blowing an errant strand of hair off her face that had escaped her ponytail.
“Julian is a really nice guy, and very astute, too. Every time he saw that I was even the slightest bit uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed, he changed the subject. He reminds me a lot of you guys in that regard.” She held her bottle high. “Cheers.”
“Cheers,” came the ready response as everyone drank.
“Does that mean you’re going to see him again?” Hazard, the thoughtful one of the bunch asked.
“As a matter of fact, yes. We’re meeting at the Moose and Muffin tomorrow morning at nine.”
Statler’s brows raised. “Wow. Now I know you must really like him to see him two days in a row.”
Clearly her brother was astounded, as well he should be. Not only was this the first time Petula had gone out with someone for a “sort-of” date, it was the first time she’d ever let on, even a little bit, that she might be moving forward with a man.
“I think…” She cleared her throat and started again. “I think I could really end up liking Julian, if he can…handle things with me.”
Statler would know what she was saying, and the crew, if she was correct, probably had an inkling, too.
“Are you kidding?” Blue interjected. “Any guy would be lucky to have you, and don’t you ever think otherwise. And you know we’ll want to meet him. We can’t have just anybody attaching themselves to our Petula.”
Petula threw the woman a grin. “Thanks, Blue. But it might be a while before that happens. I’m going to take things slowly. A few more morning meet-and-greets, maybe a lunch or two. Then before I throw him to you wolves, my smart brother suggested a possible hike, or fishing.”
“Ugh. Fishing,” Sherbert groaned. “I’ll never understand how the two of you get off on slimy worms, barbed hooks, and gutting fish. It is so, not my idea of a good time.”
Petula laughed. “First of all, we use lures, not worms,” Although that hadn’t been the case when they’d been younger. “And second, I don’t see you complaining when you sleep on the bank while we fish, then eat what we’ve caught when you wake up.”
Point in case… “I could be coerced into frying up some previously frozen catfish for supper tonight,” she told him.
“That’s awesome,” Sherbert cheered. “When you serve it to me on a plate, I can pretend I’m in a restaurant.”
“God, you are such a wuss, Sherb.” Tonka, the largest one of the bunch, launched a pillow at Sherbert’s head. It was caught, and hurled back, but before things could break down into a full blown pillow fight, Blue intervened and deftly confiscated the projectile, mid-air.
“Nope. We are not making a mess of Petula’s house. She’s had a long day, and the last thing she needs is to clean up after you cretins. Now settle down, and maybe she’ll be nice enough to feed us if she still has the energy.”
“You know I do, Blue,” Petula chuckled as she vacated her chair. “I’ve already got the fish prepped. So if you can keep these idiots under control for a short while, I’ll head to the kitchen and get things cooking.”
“I’m on it,” Blue said, with no hesitation, and Petula believed her.
Like Sheila, at the Diver Downeast office, Blue somehow managed to intimidate the guys with a single word. Petula didn’t know what that was all about, but she was grateful for it more often than not.
Shedding her boots, she gave a sigh and walked into the kitchen.