Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
Terrence Rawlins climbed into his car, bringing a sprinkling of snow with him as he went. He glanced behind him at the restaurant he’d just finished inspecting, thinking to himself that they’d barely managed to scrape by.
If it was up to me, he thought, I would also base my health inspections on people’s attitudes. Those people seemed as though they were lazy and didn’t really care. I bet half the place falls apart before the next health inspection.
He sighed, wondering if he was getting too grumpy. It seemed to him that modern people just didn’t have the same work ethic that people used to have, and too many establishments were sloppy and disorganized. He liked it whenever he found a place that was well-cared for, but it wasn’t often that he came across them.
He started the engine of his car, and his breath clouded in front of him. He had a long drive back to Rosewood Beach, where he lived, and he wondered where he was going to eat dinner. He’d been hoping to stop by The Lighthouse Grill that evening for his meal, but based on how hungry he was, he decided that he would need to stop somewhere else on his drive back.
He turned his car out of the parking lot of the little restaurant and started to make his way toward the highway. Snowflakes tumbled down from the sky, and he grumbled a little to himself, wondering if he was about to get caught in a blizzard.
His stomach growled again, and he found himself thinking about The Lighthouse Grill. It was by far his favorite restaurant in the whole area—maybe anywhere at all. They served good, wholesome comfort food, and the staff and owners were friendly and professional. He smiled as he thought about how he’d recently done a health inspection there, and the one thing that had needed to be remedied was that the air vents were in need of replacement. Those were the kinds of establishments he loved to work with—places where people really cared and were doing their best. It was obvious that The Lighthouse Grill cared about their customers just as much as they cared about making a profit.
It’s places like that that make my job worth doing, he thought as he turned onto a snowy road. I don’t like having to write down a whole long list of rules and regulations every time.
Personally, he liked rules and regulations. He liked order, and professionalism, and things being done the way they were supposed to be. In many ways, that made him a great health inspector, since he had every regulation memorized and he was quick to see when things weren’t as they should be. He’d spent many years enjoying getting businesses back on track, and most of the people he’d worked with had been friendly and cooperative.
It was a satisfying life, he thought as he wound his way along the snowy road. The road was bordered by pine trees, which tossed fitfully in the cold wind. He was grateful for how warm his car was despite the outside temperature, and his mind continued on its contemplative track as he drove. He was happy with his life, and he got a great satisfaction out of ensuring that guidelines were met in all of the local establishments he inspected.
He found himself sighing as he drove, however. He liked his life, and his job, but he had to admit that he’d once hoped his life would be different from what it was. He’d imagined a life with a partner in it, a woman he could come home to and support. He’d never imagined being single at his age, he’d always just assumed that his bachelor days were only for when he was a younger man. But there he was, in his early sixties, and he’d never married. He felt a twinge of loneliness he couldn’t ignore.
I’ve had a full life , he thought. One that’s kept me busy and happy. But I do wish I was driving home to someone right now.
He imagined a cozy scene and sighed again. He pictured a smiling wife greeting him at the door, perhaps heating up some leftovers for him to eat for dinner or making him a cup of tea. He pictured himself doing sweet little things for her as well, like massaging her feet or surprising her by bringing home one of her favorite books from the library.
The rosy picture he was painting for himself started to look too wonderful, and he shook his head, telling himself not to be silly. He was content with his life, he always had been. After all, if he’d really wanted to get married, he would have gone out and found a woman to marry, wouldn’t he? He was okay with his solitude, and he often preferred to be alone in the quiet with a good book and a cup of tea.
He cleared his throat a little as he drove, wondering if he was fooling himself a little. He sighed again and turned his car onto one of the main roads, which was well-plowed and brightly lit with streetlights.
Halfway through his drive, he stopped at a little diner on the side of the road. The food was warm and pleasant, but he found it somewhat bland, even though he felt hungry enough to eat a horse. As he sipped his decaf coffee, he looked down at his empty plate, feeling a hankering for a little something more. He’d ordered lasagna with a side of tomato soup and garlic bread, and the portion sizes had been modest enough that he felt he could eat a little dessert as well. He glanced over the dessert menu, but soon decided against ordering a turtle sundae, a giant brownie, or a slice of cherry pie.
He thought about his favorite baked good, snowballs, and decided to stop at the store in Rosewood Beach to pick some up before he got home. He tried not to eat too many sweets, but he had a soft spot for snowballs, and he tended to crave them more than usual when it was snowing outside.
He left a generous tip at the diner because his waitress had seemed tired and a little grumpy, and he’d noticed colored marker stains on her hands, which implied she had small children. He went back out into the cold, and was glad to find his car was still a little warmer than the outdoors.
Within another half an hour, he’d made it back to Rosewood Beach. He drove along the familiar cozy streets until he reached the general store. It was fairly quiet at that time of night, but there were still a few cars parked in the parking lot. He went inside, along with a gust of wind and snow, and took a deep breath. He loved the smell of the general store. Grocery stores always smelled nice—of bread and cardboard and produce—but hardware stores smelled even better. He loved the smell of fresh cut wood and potted herbs. The general store was a blend of all those scents, and it was brightly lit and clean. As someone who appreciated a well-run establishment, Terrence was particularly fond of the general store.
He made his way to the bakery section and picked up the last of that day’s batch of snowballs. As he was bringing them up to the register, he thought about the time he’d eaten snowballs with Vivian Owens in The Lighthouse Grill.
That had been an evening! He’d been walking past the pub, on his way back home from getting snowballs late at night, when he’d seen the lights on in the restaurant. He’d knocked on the door and discovered Jacob Dorsey and Hazel Owens working on an unexpected issue with the air vents. They’d called Vivian, and she’d arrived soon after, her cheeks flushed from the cold. While the young people had worked, he’d offered her one of the snowballs he’d just purchased, and they’d sat and eaten them together.
He found himself slowing down in his walking, thinking of how comfortable he’d felt with Vivian, and how much he admired her. She was a determined and fierce woman who had still managed to maintain an attitude of gentleness in a tough world. He’d felt a connection with her, sitting there and chatting over their snowballs. She’d shared her heart with him in a way that meant a great deal to him.
Don’t be silly, Terrence, he thought, brushing the memory aside. It was nothing. Don’t go looking for romance in places you don’t belong.
He had to admit to himself, however, that the memory was one that he held dear. He’d been happy to stand up for Vivian against Judd McCormick at the pub’s Christmas event, and he’d had a few conversations with her on other occasions, but his favorite memory with her was still that night at the pub when they’d eaten the snowballs together.
He paid for the snowballs, thinking to himself that he wished he had an excuse to see Vivian again. She was the kind of person he felt that he wanted to look out for. He glanced at his watch, wondering if the pub was still open. He had a thought of walking over there and seeing if she was still around and offering her a snowball. Then he shook his head, telling himself not to be silly. Although they’d bonded a little during the Christmas season, he was still practically a stranger to her. He was sure she had better things to do than spend time with his grumpy old self.