My, What A Big Hose You Have (From Denture With Love #1)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Brandy

It was the fact that, as of right now, I was essentially starting my life over. And that was both thrilling and terrifying on so many levels.

The GPS had gotten me to Denture just fine.

It was the last three blocks that nearly killed me.

Not because the roads were bad or the town was confusing.

That wasn’t it. Denture was actually adorable in the way small towns were.

As if someone took a snow globe, filled it with kids on bikes, garden gnomes, flower-covered front porches, and a giant set of false teeth in the park, and just plopped it down gently in the middle of nowhere.

TA-DA! I give you a town called Denture.

It was the fact that, as of right now, I was essentially starting my life over. And that was both thrilling and terrifying on so many levels.

Denture? Who names their town after false teeth? Eww.

Even during my interview, after asking the mayor if that was honestly the name of the town and him confirming it, I had to Google to be sure, and lo and behold, the town really was called Denture.

The GPS loudly announced that I had arrived at my location. I pulled my car to the curb and immediately burst into tears. Wonderful, relief-filled tears.

When I finished my meltdown and was certain the neighbors sufficiently believed the new lady was a complete nutter, I sat in my car in front of the rental house and admired where my new life was going to start — a little yellow place with a white porch on Clover Street.

I’d already decided I was going to get some brightly colored, comfy outdoor furniture where I could eat sweets and drink wine every single night if I wanted to.

It was mine. Every glorious inch of it. The only person I had to answer to was my landlady, who appeared to be somewhere in the neighborhood of four hundred years old.

She’d already told me three times how highly the mayor spoke of me.

Apparently, that was all the reference she needed.

I even forced her to take my security deposit.

In Denture, she told me, a person's word is good enough.

“Out with the old and in with the new life,” I said to my empty car.

Nineteen years of marriage. A courthouse, a judge, and one ex-husband.

Who proved I was making the best decision possible when he couldn’t keep his eyes off the court stenographer long enough to pretend he was even a tiny bit sad about ending our time together.

One would have thought that after four months of negotiations, which he caused, and all of the back-and-forth that ended with us finally agreeing to sell the house and split the revenue, he could have managed that much.

I knew I wanted to move, that I needed a change.

For one thing, because I swear if I had run into him and another one of his special friends, I'd be doing time in jail. Not to mention the time I came home to find him and one of those special friends with her ass on my kitchen counter, kissing. Which seemed odd, since he said he was just going to be quickly stopping to pick up a jacket he’d forgotten. Jackass.

I grinned at myself when I remembered my lawyer getting the judge to agree that since Gary had been the reason for the divorce, he should be the one to clean and get the house ready to go on the market.

I made sure the house was ready for Gary to clean when he got back, especially since the realtor was eager to get it on the market.

I hoped he enjoyed the deeply unpleasant smells when he opened the refrigerator. I helped and left it unplugged, conveniently forgetting that Gary was on a business trip for a week. Oops.

While I packed my things, I was so concerned about his precious, beloved model cars.

The ones he’d repeatedly begged me to let him leave at the house so he knew they were safe.

All one hundred and forty-seven boxes of them.

With the complete safety of those time suckers in mind, I made a point to stack each box on top of the other, floor to ceiling, in the farthest spot in the basement.

That way they were good and safe. And since safety was the main concern, I also took the liberty of removing all the glue tubs, paint, and potentially sharp edges from the models.

I’d hate for poor old Gary to injure himself.

That would be very unsafe, and he wanted things safe.

Also, because I didn’t want anyone finding the glue and having a potentially unsafe situation, I emptied all the glue into his full golf bag, his laptop, and tackle box. Keeping everything and everybody safe, as he requested. And not one ounce of glue was damaged.

Oh, and being the excellent wife that I was, well, ex-wife, I took care of all of his clothing too.

I mean, why not? For years I picked them up, washed, and folded them.

So I thought I should be able to treat them however I wanted.

Although, somehow, mysteriously, the man’s clothes seemed to end up, well, everywhere.

Some clothes ended up in the oddest places, like the fireplace.

His clothes also appeared arranged in the backyard oak tree, and someone might have taped his underwear to the outside of the garage door.

Put that in your online dating profile, asshat.

I had driven away from that house with a car full of the things that actually mattered to me. The windows down and the radio blaring, “That Don't Impress Me Much.” And I hadn't looked in the rearview mirror once.

This week I was the new Community Ambassador for Denture, population eight thousand, upper Midwest, a quiet town that I was thrilled to now call home.

I was moved in and already enjoying my porch.

And I had a meeting with the mayor in forty-five minutes to go over my job.

A job where I had absolutely no idea what I was going to be doing, but damn if I wasn’t going to find out and give it my best. The days of being Gary's adorable, doting wife were over.

I wanted to fit in here and belong, me, on my own.

Oh, who was I kidding? Realistically, I'd been on my own for a long time.

Gary had checked out of our marriage years before the divorce.

At first, I'd tried everything I knew to get the magic back, but then, if I'm honest, I gave up too.

There wasn't any love left. Shit, there weren't even feelings, unless you counted meh as a feeling.

If it wasn't for my busybody neighbor finding his online dating profile, I would have just gone on living my own life that just happened to be in a house with my roommate husband.

So, when I stumbled across the job in Denture, I jumped on it. I plumped up my resume and applied. After a Zoom interview with the mayor, I was hired.

And here I was in the bathroom of the Denture municipal building, about to find out what the next chapter of my life looked like.

I stood looking at myself in the mirror.

I fluffed my shoulder-length soft brown hair with blond highlights, glad that I’d gotten my color before I left home.

Trying to find a new hair stylist could be a nightmare and not a quest I wanted to start on just after moving.

I pulled my lipstick out of my blazer pocket.

Touching it up, I smacked my lips and blinked my eyelashes over my caramel-brown eyes.

“Okay, girl, let’s do this,” I said in the mirror, checking my teeth for rogue lipstick and my ass for absolutely no reason at all.

I’d looked up Mayor Rich Stevens before the interview; he was in his sixties.

Soft around the middle in the way of a man who attended a LOT of community dinners and never said no to the dessert table.

Not fat, just... well-fed and comfortable with it.

He was of medium height, around the five-ten area.

A full head of silver hair that’s styled within an inch of its life.

Not a strand out of place. This was a man who didn’t go to a barber; he saw his personal stylist. Which was probably his wife or sister.

Rich Stevens had a face made for local television.

Round, open, friendly in that practiced way.

His smile arrived slightly before the sincerity did.

Teeth that were a little too white for a man his age, which, in a town called Denture, was either deeply intentional or the greatest irony of his entire life.

In everything I watched and saw, he’s always in a blazer. Always. Even at casual events. The blazer was his armor and his brand. And on the blazer, a large lapel pin of a pair of lips spread in a smile over gleaming white teeth.

Connie, his administrative assistant, opened the door and introduced me to the mayor. Stepping past her into Mayor Stevens' office, I was overtaken with the smell of carpet cleaner and furniture polish. To the level that I wondered if his windows were painted shut.

“Brandy Wilson!” he said, like he was announcing me at an awards show. “It's so nice to meet you in person. Welcome to Denture, where you’re greeted with...” He paused like I was supposed to fill in the missing word.

Confused, I answered, “with a smile?”

His face broke into a wide grin. “Yes, yes, that’s our town. See? You fit right in.”

“Thank you, Mayor Stevens. It's great to be—”

“Rich! Call me Rich.” He waved a hand and gestured at the chair across from his desk.

There was a framed photo on the credenza behind it of Stevens shaking hands in front of a pair of giant teeth that I’d seen in the park.

Next to that was another photo of him cutting a ribbon in front of the laundromat.

This pattern of self-loving pictures continued around the entire room.

The wall opposite his desk couldn't have held another picture frame if it wanted to.

“Rich,” I said, smiling as I took a seat and opened my notebook.

“So!” Rich said, settling back into his chair with the energy of a man who had a lot of opinions and very few facts. “Community Ambassador. That was my idea. Sold it to the city council, I did. It's a big role. A big, big role. But I'm confident you're the lady to do it.”

“Thank you, I'm excited. During the interview, you mentioned wanting to expand and have more events for the community. I've done some research and have a list of preexisting events. How many more events are you wanting?” I held my pen at the ready.

“We need enthusiasm,” Rich said, pointing at me. “Energy. We need a smiling community.” He paused. “You know what makes a community smile?”

I had several answers, but I got the sense none of them were the one he was looking for, so I waited.

“Events,” Rich said, with the gravity of a man revealing a scientific breakthrough. “Activities. Things to do.”

“Yes, now how many—”

“People come together around events.” He was nodding now. “They feel good, connected. They feel like—” he paused for what I can only describe as dramatic effect — “they are a part of something. And that makes them smile.”

“A part of something,” I agreed, pen poised. “So in terms of specifics, what does the calendar look like for—”

“I'll be honest with you, Brandy.” He leaned forward. “This town needs a spark. And I think you're that spark. Think sparkler.” He made a sizzle sort of noise. “Sparks are what we need.”

I wrote ‘spark??’ in my notebook and circled it.

“I want community pride,” Rich said. “Pride brings smiling people together. People together means—”

He stopped. He actually stopped mid-sentence and looked at me like I was once again supposed to finish his thought.

“A stronger community?” I offered.

He pointed at me again. “See, I knew it!” He did a lot of pointing. “You're the right person for the job and going to fit in just dandy.”

I smiled. “Thank you. Now, how many events were you thinking about adding to the calendar?”

We went back and forth like this for forty minutes.

By the end of it, I had established the following: I had a budget that was described as “flexible,” but he still didn't tell me how much. I had access to the community center. And the mayor's full support, which he mentioned seven times. Which I suspected meant approximately nothing.

“Now, I'd like to hear about your event for June.”

I blinked. “June?”

“Why yes, this June. Might as well jump in with both feet.”

“But sir, Mayor, Rich...” I looked at my phone's calendar. “June is next week.”

“Precisely!” He went back behind his desk.

“The only thing we currently have is the fire department's Safety Week every June. We’re not cancelling the week. No, Chief Carson would come unglued. He runs it — a good man, dedicated, very—” Rich searched for the word, “thorough.

But the event is just a kids' safety week, which is important, no doubt. Kids smiling means parents smiling, and young minds grow up to be young voters, you know.” He leaned his head to the side.

“We need more, something less... boring.

Come up with something new for June or a way to make Safety Week bigger, better.

Either way, the choice is yours. I'm trusting you to make something...” He paused.

“Sparkly?” I suggested.

“YES! Yes, that's exactly the word. I knew we’d think alike, you and I.

Alright, you go introduce yourself to Carson and come up with an idea.

I'll be waiting to hear all about it. I've got a conference call in ten minutes.

Talk to Connie about your office, she's got it ready for you. Now, anything else you need, Brandy? No? Alright then, see you later. And again, welcome.”

I thanked Mayor Stevens and walked out into the outer office. Connie wasn’t at her desk, so I decided I’d get back with her about my things. I also decided there was no time like the present to go meet the fire chief.

On the sidewalk outside the Denture municipal office building, I stopped and let my thoughts catch up to me.

A community-wide, big, sparkly event planned and executed in less than a month? Is he crazy?

I got in my car, still trying to wrap my head around the idea.

I peered out the windshield, thinking. I was certain the mayor would be judging my ability to do my job if I couldn't give him what he considered a sparkly event in that time frame.

What if the fire chief didn't like the idea of my involvement in their event?

I hadn't even thought of that. Then I'd be stuck coming up with and executing a whole other event in a very short time.

Damn sparkles, what have I gotten myself into?