CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR Van
Pooch curled up under the counter, next to the safe. Chip kept a bed at the mercantile for him because he went everywhere Chip did. I’d never had a pet before and found myself getting attached to the well-behaved dog.
“Look at you and Pooch bonding,” Bertie reported, coming around the counter. “Seems to me when a person falls for an animal, he makes a good partner for its owner.”
“He’s irresistible,” I said.
Ever the wisecracker, Bertie chuckled and asked, “Pooch or Chip?”
“Both,” I stated. “I like them equally.”
“You better not tell Chip that.”
We simultaneously turned toward the glass door that led to the garage, where Chip worked on customers’ vehicles. He was bent over the open hood of Mrs. Hanson’s Plymouth.
“Well,” I began, reconsidering whether I liked Pooch or Chip best, and before checking out how awesome his ass looked in Wranglers. “I think I’ll choose Chip.”
“Wise choice, kiddo.”
Bertie began calling me kiddo almost from the day I showed up in Missile. Our friendship was immediate, and I valued her affection. Chip had mentioned he’d never seen Bertie take to a stranger so quickly.
I turned to face her, apprehension permitting fear to gain control of my thoughts. “I worry, Bertie,” I said. “About him. About us,” I explained, gesturing to the garage and Chip.
We stared at Chip for a minute before she spoke. “I’ll allow the worry,” she said, still focused on Chip. Then she turned to me. “But please do not break his heart.”
“Not my intention,” I responded.
“If you can’t stay in Missile, I wouldn’t blame you, son. But try to make that decision soon, will ya?”
I remembered Sadie’s warning and voiced a worry. “People staying here seems to be the overriding concern of Missile’s residents.”
“That just your observation, or are you remembering crazy lady Hatfield’s rant?” she asked.
“You heard?”
She grunted her acknowledgment, shaking her head in disgust. “Nothing goes unnoticed in this town, son. Keep that in mind if you end up staying.”
There were no customers inside the store, so I turned my back to the counter and jumped up, sitting on it to ask Bertie’s opinion and see if she’d share her wisdom.
“I hate to talk behind Chip’s back, but I worry about John returning to town,” I confessed. “And I know we’ve just met, Bertie, but I hoped you might have some insight.”
Bertie leaned backward against the half wall below the cigarette display. Her face, lined deeply and with zero makeup, appeared concerned with my question. She glanced toward Chip before answering me.
“John might,” she admitted. “You know, come back.”
“I was afraid of that.”
“Won’t matter though,” she muttered, fixing her eyes on me.
“In my opinion, even if you weren’t here, his return wouldn’t matter.
At least regarding Calvin getting back with John,” she explained.
“I’ve known the kid his whole life. Once he gets through the pain and the bullshit associated with it, he moves forward. Just his nature, son.”
“The deaths of his parents and then his grandfather?” I asked.
“Yeah. Definitely those losses, but when John left, that about killed him,” she said. “My Calvin was gutted. Unprepared, and lost without his right arm.”
Her words bothered me more than I liked to admit. I was correct. John had been Chip’s great love. The one man to truly capture his heart. The perfect partner I could never compete with.
“Figured,” I said, feeling defeated. “I experienced the same thing. Maybe my ex wasn’t as great as I hear John is, but I was dumped suddenly, too.”
Bertie didn’t immediately respond to me, possibly choosing her words carefully.
“Listen, son. John is a wonderful young man. No doubt about that,” she explained.
“But, and this is a doozy of a but, John did a crappy thing to Calvin. I think a person reveals themselves when they so selfishly and easily discard one person for another. And I think Calvin knows that.”
“You think?” I asked, needing reassurance. “I know I sound pathetic. Probably weak too, but I’m terrified of John returning.”
Bertie crossed her arms and stared at me, boring into my soul like she had an issue with my concern. “That worry ain’t weak, son. You’d be a fool not to respect it.”
I nervously laughed. “See?” I asked. “Even you agree.”
“Not with what you think,” she corrected. “I agree he might return to Missile. But I wouldn’t worry about Chip’s response to his return.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Simple,” she declared. “You showed up.”
I think everyone would find solace in a comment like Bertie’s, but I’d met John, and I was well aware of the competition. Mine and John’s visit in the Seattle condo’s garage exposed me to how kind and gracious he came across.
He’d literally replaced me in Evan’s world, but he seemed remorseful and considerate.
I didn’t sense a single spiteful thing about him.
And of course, he was a stunning man to look at.
That issue alone may have a lot to do with my fears.
But there was one upsetting fact that I felt helped my cause.
He’d unceremoniously dumped Chip the way Evan had dumped me.
“I’m not sure my showing up in Missile will affect how Chip reacts if John comes back.”
“Of course, it will,” she disagreed. “If nothing else, and even if you leave, you’ve proven to him he’s worthy of love.”
“He doubted that?”
She nodded, herself seeming surprised by the fact. “The boy was lost; his entire self-worth crushed when John left. The luster clean wiped away. I’ve never seen Calvin so despondent, or so convinced he had nothing left after what John did.”
“Gosh,” I sighed. “Sounds like my life the past year.”
“And in my belief,” she began. “Not to sound like a wackadoodle or anything, but what you both need is why you’re in Missile.”
“Do you honestly believe that?” I asked, hopping from the counter and standing a foot away from her.
“Because I do too. And with total transparency, I want you to know I purposefully stopped in Missile after speaking with John,” I revealed.
“But, and let’s be clear, I didn’t know Chip was John’s ex when I arrived.
And besides that odd coincidence, I had a weird hunch related to the message encouraging me to take a journey.
Meeting John added intrigue to get me to visit Missile. So, maybe I’m the wackadoodle.”
Bertie nodded aggressively in agreement.
“Wackadoodle or not, I wished for a man like you for months,” she admitted.
“I found myself observing customers, travelers, locals, and any assumed single man who showed up here, to determine whether they’d be a good choice for Calvin.
I about gave up until ten days or so ago. ”
I lowered my voice. “Doesn’t the fact that my ex is now with his ex seem like too much of a coincidence?” I asked.
“If you believe in coincidences,” she replied. “Which I do not!”
We both startled when the glass door to the garage popped open. Chip burst through in his usual bull-in-a-China-cabinet style.
He came up to the counter. “What?” he asked, wiping the front of his greasy jacket. “Somethin’ on my face?”
Bertie and I exchanged glances. “Nope,” she replied. “Just shootin’ the shit with Van.”
Chip rolled his eyes and then studied me closely, probably trying to decide whether I was okay. He eyed Bertie again, undoubtedly checking her bullshit-ometer as he liked to call her ways.
“I’m learning about your business,” I added. “Training on the Lotto machine next.”
He leaned against me affectionately, scrunching his nose and poking his tongue at her, looking like a brat. “Your language is foul for an old woman, Bertie. And Van doesn’t have to learn Lotto if he doesn’t want to.”
“How the hell am I gonna retire if he doesn’t learn everything we sell?” she asked, grabbing and throwing a pack of Marlboros at him. “You don’t have me for frickin’ ever, ya punk!”
Chip grabbed the pack of smokes out of the air and closed the distance between them in a flash, wrapping her in his arms. “And where the hell you gonna go, woman? Admit it. You’d miss my sweet ass too much to go anywhere.”
Watching Chip interact with her warmed my heart. They shared a genuine affection between them, and their love for one another was obvious. She meant something important to him. And he to her.
There were clear signs that validated who Chip was as a man; his loving manner, his dedication to the community he lived in, and the respect he gave to his friends and neighbors were wonderful attributes he possessed. But the bond with Bertie was a joyous thing to witness.
“I’m making way for him,” Bertie said, smiling at me. “You two will manage just fine without me.”
“That’s a big ask, lady,” Chip said, releasing her arms and returning to my side. “This handsome man standing here might not like living in Missile like we do.”
“But that’s what I want for Christmas,” she softly complained. “And I don’t think my two Christmas boys wanna break my heart, do they?”
Chip nervously readjusted his stance, not looking at me. “Hey,” he said. “About Christmas. I’m not positive, but I’d bet I’m dis-invited to Mrs. Hatfield’s for Christmas Eve dinner.”
“Nice segue, Calvin, but I just told you two boys what I want for Christmas,” she pushed. “So don’t disappoint me, and nice try.”
I felt bad that she was putting Chip on the spot. “It’s awfully early to commit to that,” I interjected. “And, you know, we’d have to discuss things before we could say for sure if I could live here.”
Bertie turned her attention to Chip. “Do you want Van to live in Missile?” she asked.
“Well… yes… of course, but…” he stuttered.
“And you?” she asked, cutting off Chip and redirecting her attention my way. “Can you see yourself living here?”
Her line of questioning felt intrusive, premature, and absolutely uncomfortable, but her direct approach made me feel emboldened as well. I wanted to throw caution to the wind. I wanted to say out loud what I felt inside.
“I can see myself living with Chip anywhere we chose to live,” I stated. “And yes, that would include Missile. But,” I added, making sure Chip was listening. “We’ve just met. These sorts of decisions are probably too early to commit to after a week and a half.”
“Bullshit!” Bertie exclaimed. “I met, courted, and married my husband in less than a week. And if Buzz were still livin’, we’d still be together. You can take that to the bank, son.”
Chip glanced my way before turning back to Bertie. “We’ll take it under advisement,” he said.
“I’m not just yakkin’ to be heard,” she defended. “When you know, you know. And you boys are meant to be together. That I know as much as I’ve ever known anything.”
“Like Chip said, we’ll take your advice to heart,” I said.
She narrowed her eyes, moving them between us.
I had a distinct feeling she wasn’t done talking.
“What do you two have right this very minute that’s better than how you feel about each other?
” she interrogated. Both of us shrugged our shoulders.
Better than interrupting her as she attempted to educate us.
“Ya think shit like this happens to everyone, every day?” Bertie was fully into her rant by then, and far from over.
“Let me spell it out for ya,” she continued.
“You were both born on Christmas Day, for Christ’s sake.
It’s even in the name. And your exes? They’re together?
Hello? Just admit it—I’m right. You’re destined for one another. ”
Just as I was about to address her far-fetched reasoning—reasoning I happened to believe in—the mercantile phone rang. Bertie looked to me as if to indicate it was time I took calls as part of my training.
“Missile Mercantile,” I answered. I listened to the caller, unsure of what he was on about, so I turned toward them both, covering the mouthpiece of the ancient rotary phone. “Do we offer towing services?”
Chip pointed to a nondescript, aluminum-sided building across the street next to the liquor store and took the phone from me.
“We keep the newer tow truck in that building,” Bertie explained. “And yes, we offer towing services. Ya may as well put your ski pants and parka on. Looks like you’re going on a tow run.”
“What about the…?” I began, wondering about manning the mercantile this close to her shift ending.
“I’ll stay late. I don’t do tow truck runs,” she stated. “You’ll get used to it. Plus, there’s a shit-ton of money in towing.”
Chip disconnected the call. “Ready to do your first tow run?”
“Absolutely!” I exclaimed, having zero clue what that even meant.
Bertie and Chip exchanged glances, grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats.
“Hard worker. I like him,” Bertie declared.
“Me too,” Chip agreed.