Chapter 9 - Marie #2
“Probably. Something like that.” Marie was about to ask how old Grace was when they heard Robby’s cell phone ring. He walked off toward the sound which was coming from his bedroom.
“Hi, Margie. What’s up? . . . Yeah . . . Friday early . . . Sure, no problem . . . See you then . . . Bye.” He walked back to Marie. “Margie wants me to stop by on my way up the Trail Friday morning. She’s making a blueberry pie for Grace.”
“I have to meet this girl. How long will you be up there this time?”
“As long as she’ll have me.”
Marie rolled her eyes. “Oh my god Little Brother. You’ve got it bad.”
Robby smiled. “It’s new territory, but I don’t have anything else to do. There is one thing missing — no electric guitars in the woods. So, I’ll be back. Maybe Grace’ll come with me . . . There’s a thought.”
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Wednesday mid-morning, Grace headed to the lodge to check her email, the first of her twice daily weekday treks, so she didn’t miss anything from her jobs.
At some point today, she expected that note from Margie.
Then, she could let Jim know about tomorrow.
Regardless, she had to place her order for groceries.
Maybe she’d go with him either way. That would be good, come to think of it.
She could run errands and eat and visit at the Lakeside.
It was a no-brainer, and it didn’t depend on what Robby did. Done.
“Good morning!” she said, coming into the lodge. Kirsten was behind the front desk but didn’t look up, and Jim was in his chair. Even when the resort was full, mid-morning was a downtime.
“Good morning, yourself!”
Grace got coffee and sat in the comfortable chair across from Jim. “You look more rested, I’m glad to say.”
“I am. Tough couple of days, but not as bad as they could have been. Thankful for that and for so much help. ‘Course, as soon as the guests helped clear the roads, they cleared out . . . but you can’t blame ‘em. Damn pandemic. We need a vaccine. But, as long as everybody stays healthy, I can’t say I hate the idea of a couple more weeks to get all our projects completed.” He took a sip of coffee, made a face, “Cold,” and went over for a warmup. “Made a decision about tomorrow?”
“I’m going with you.” Jim smiled. “I’ll place my order today, but I have other errands to run. What time are you leaving?”
“About 8:30,” Jim said, sitting back down.
“A little earlier than usual. With the Trail still rough, it could be slow going between debris and the vehicles dealing with it, and I have a long list. We may be suppertime getting back here. I’m not going to scrimp on my visit at the Lakeside or my pie. ”
“Oh! That reminds me — message from Margie. She’s put cherry back in rotation.”
“Great! She makes the best cherry pie in the world. She adds secret ingredients. I’ll tell you if you won’t tell.”
“Never.”
“Almond extract and lemon juice. I can’t taste either one, but when I told her I liked hers better than any other, she said that’s why.”
“I’ll try a piece.” Grace got up and put her mug on the tray. “I’m going to place that order and look at my email — see what Ely thinks of my blog post.”
When she opened her email, there were the two she was looking for.
Margie confirmed Robby would be coming by the cafe Friday morning.
Grace was annoyed at the butterflies that message caused but so be it.
At least this time, she was already on a path she’d created for herself, and the man in question knew she was determined to stay on it.
The other email was from Brad Benham. He praised her post and said everyone was relieved to have her onboard.
He was handing her over to their general editor, Erika Andersen.
Erika passed on everything that went out of the organization and had approved Grace’s post for publication Friday.
He included Erika’s contact information.
At the end of the email, there was a paragraph that began, “On a more personal note,” and went on to say he was still hoping to introduce her to everyone in the office and to “show her around Ely himself at the first practical opportunity.” Grace sighed and decided not to think about that.
Then, she went to Olsson’s website and placed her order.
“Jim?” She said, going around the corner into the lobby. He looked up. “Can I place an online order at the liquor store? I was in there and bought some beer and wine the week before last, but I want more before the lockdown.”
“Kevin doesn’t take online orders, but I call ahead, and he gets it ready. Just tell me what you want. I’ll add it to our order and put it on your bill.”
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Robby talked Marie into a new routine. She would go home now, while the boys were in school and Russell was at work and get clothes.
Then she would come to Robby’s direct from every shift, walk in wearing clean surgical gloves and mask, undress and start the washer, take a shower, eat, and sleep.
In essence, she would live at Robby’s on the days she was working.
Robby’s own plan for anytime he was at home was simple: play electric guitar.
He and Russell had looked specifically for a piece of property on the lake between Grand Marais and Duluth where Robby could count on privacy and play as loudly as he wanted.
They had insulated, soundproofed, and heated the basement, so he could have the bubble that playing had always created for him with everything else in the universe pushed out.
These days, he wanted a break from the uncertainty and anxiety that kept dropping down on him from out of nowhere.
He fixed bacon and eggs over easy. He wondered what Grace was doing.
Maybe the next blog post. He knew she was concerned about what Ely had thought of the first one.
Such a different relationship than he’d ever had.
It was not the age difference. Most women around the band were younger than Grace.
It was that he was not the center of it.
In this relationship, he and Grace were equals.
She didn’t need him any more than he needed her.
A freeing, but at the same time, disconcerting thought — he was just realizing he’d always been in control.
But not now. Maybe they were friends, too?
He wasn’t sure he’d ever had a female friend, aside from Marie.
He and Grace talked about all kinds of things.
And the sex was great. But there was a lot he didn’t know about her.
She was right. For all his rock star label, he didn’t know much about women except for sex. If he wanted more than that . . .
He was contemplating washing the dishes when he heard Marie come in the back door.
She called out to let him know she was back, then went about the routine.
He did the dishes, so she wouldn’t. He checked his email.
She came in from the bedroom hall in Russell’s flannel pajama bottoms and a Komatsu t-shirt. “Don’t you look fetching?” he teased.
“It’ll comfort me since I can’t be with him. They smell like Russell.” She paused. “I already feel more relaxed. A little guilty, but I know it’s for a good cause. I left him a note. Told him I’d call on the way to my shift. Listen, are you in a hurry? Just say so — it’s okay.”
“No. I seem to say this a lot lately. I’m in charge of my own schedule, and I’m in no hurry. Should we sit down? Maybe you’d like a beer?”
“What an idea — beer in the morning! Yes, I think I will.” She turned and went to the big chair next to the woodstove.
Robbie brought her a beer and coffee for himself.
He sat back on the deep red sofa in front of the woodstove.
“Can we talk a little more about Grace?” Margie’s phone call interrupted us, and then I had to go get my things. ”
“Sure. What else do you want to know?”
“Well, I was about to ask how old she is.”
“Twenty-eight.”
“Okay. I guess that’s an okay split. Is she married?”
Robby was about to take a sip of coffee, but his hand stopped halfway to his mouth. He lowered it, rested it on his thigh, looked off, then back at Marie. “I don’t know. It never occurred to me to ask . . . She doesn’t wear a ring.”
“You probably should ask.” He looked away. “Maybe soon — I just don’t want you to get hurt. You’re not used to not being in the driver’s seat in a love affair. There are common road hazards you don’t think about.”
“It’s true. I never thought about it . . .” He turned to her again. “In the past, it wasn’t a concern. But now . . .”
“Now, what?”
“I don’t know . . . it’s not an appealing thought.” He paused and looked down at his coffee.
“Oh. Well, she’s probably not, or it might be over . . . Has she ever said anything about her home life, about needing to go back?”
“She doesn’t like to talk about it. She said home wasn’t high on her list of where to go after this . . . She said she never wants to leave here.”
“Were you in bed?”
“No. We were sitting far apart on a rock halfway up Gunflint.” The memory cheered him. “We’ll talk about it. I’ll ask her. Anything else?”
“What does she look like?”
“Margie hasn’t told you?” Marie shook her head. “You’ll never guess. She’s a natural redhead. Lots of hair. An unbelievable amount of hair. Even freckles.” He laughed.
“Have you ever dated a redhead?”
“Not that I remember . . . not a natural one, anyway. But I knew something was up the moment I saw this one sitting at the gate in Minneapolis. I just didn’t know what. I’m enjoying finding out, though.”
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