5. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
Eliza
“I just can’t believe you met a hunky fireman in the first five minutes of being in town…” Amy gushes over FaceTime. “Did you get his number?!”
“No, I didn’t get his number. Are you crazy? It was probably the most embarrassing moment of my life.” I roll my eyes at my best friend. “And you already know I’ve sworn off men and love. Besides, he was just doing his job. There’s nothing to read into.”
I take in my new, messy look in the mirror: faded jeans, oversized sweatshirt, and a loose bun on the top of my head. I’ve gone from uptown businesswoman to unemployed and living in my granny’s spare room.
The definition of rock bottom.
“Oh, come on, Eliza! You can’t tell me there wasn’t a spark there. I mean, you described him like he walked straight out of one of those lumberjack romance novels.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You watch too many chick flicks, Amy. This is real life, not some cheesy movie plot.”
“Real life can be just as romantic, if not more,” she insists, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought when I was with Devon, and look how all that turned out for me,” I retort, the bitterness in my voice surprising even myself. “I’m here to start fresh, not to repeat the same mistakes.”
I sigh, taking in my father’s old room, which is now just a plain guest room—complete with a full-sized bed and a fall-themed quilt that I’m sure is nearly as old as the house. Despite the fact it smells like stale air, it’s a quaint little room … and maybe even cute.
But it’s a huge change from the luxurious apartment I shared with Devon—against my family’s wishes, of course. They didn’t want us to move in together before we were married.
I always thought we’d get married eventually, so I didn’t think it was a big deal.
But clearly, I was wrong.
Ugh. Such a waste of time.
Amy shakes her head, her expression softening. “I get it, Eliza. But not every guy is going to be like Devon. And who knows, maybe this fireman is the fresh start you need. I mean, he did rescue you from a hole on your first day in town!”
“I appreciate your optimism. But let’s focus on the reason I’m actually here: to help Granny and start fresh,” I redirect the conversation, hoping to steer away from the topic of Nick.
“Right. Okay, well, what do you plan to do there, then? Once you get settled in, of course.”
“Well, I came to West Falls with a decent savings to help pay for things, but I still need to find a way to make money. I don’t want to mooch off Granny. She already won’t let me pay rent,” I explain, leaning back in my chair and looking around the room at my half-unpacked bags.
“I’m assuming they don’t have a marketing firm in West Falls?”
“Definitely not.” I chuckle. “Though, I’m kind of relieved to finally have some time to figure out what I want to do with my life. Because working at that marketing firm wasn’t it.”
“Yeah, your boss was a real turd.”
“That’s an understatement.” I shake my head, memories of my old job flooding back.
“Hey, if you want to make a quick buck, maybe you could be an Uber or Doordash driver until you find something more stable?”
I can’t help but chuckle at the thought. “Amy, I appreciate the suggestion, but West Falls has less than five thousand people and most of them probably don’t even know what Uber or Doordash is. I’m not sure if either of those services even work here.”
She laughs. “Fair point. Hey, maybe you could dust off your old camera and start a photography business or something. You used to love photography.”
It’s true. I did love photography. So much so, I actually planned to major in photography in college. But then I met Devon—who was well on his way to law school—my sophomore year, and he convinced me that photography wasn’t a viable career choice. It was “too risky” and “not a stable source of income” according to him. So, when it came time to officially declare my major, I chose marketing instead…
And sold my camera.
A knot forms in my stomach, as I suddenly realize how much I lost myself in my relationship with Devon.
I can’t believe I gave up my passion for him.
“You okay?” Amy interjects my thoughts.
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I got lost down memory lane for a second, there. But I think you might be onto something,” I say, feeling a surge of excitement bubble up inside me. “I’ll need to buy a new camera first, but … I think this could be the perfect opportunity to finally pursue photography.”
Her eyes light up with enthusiasm. “Yes! Imagine capturing all the beauty of West Falls through your lens. It could be incredible!”
A rush of possibilities floods my mind as I consider the idea. The quaint charm of the town, the rolling hills, the fall colors, all waiting to be immortalized through my camera. “I think I’m going to give it a shot.”
What better time than now? It’s not like I have anything to lose.
“Well, good! I can’t wait to see what comes of it. Okay, I gotta run. I’ll talk to you later!”
I end the call and scroll to Google, immediately searching for a camera to buy—well, after I check my bank account.
Wait, does Amazon even deliver all the way out here?
“What’re you doing in here?” Granny stands in the doorway, startling me.
That’s something I’m going to have to get used to .
“I’m buying a new camera.” I smile. “I figured it’s time I start pursuing my passion again.”
“ Ooh, ” Granny begins, stepping into the room. “I think that’s a great idea! You always did like taking pictures as a kid.”
“Yeah! I’m thinking it might be fun to start a photography business, and hopefully make a little income,” I say, feeling a breath of fresh air.
“Now that sounds like a good plan. West Falls could use a talented photographer like yourself.”
“Thanks Granny.” I blush. “I might be a bit rusty though. It’s been a long time since I’ve picked up a camera. Is there a college around here? I’d love to brush up my skills by taking some photography classes.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh goodness, no. I think the nearest college is a good two hours away; maybe even further. ”
Of course.
“I guess I’ll have to settle for online classes then.” I sigh.
“Well, come to think of it, my friend Barbara Hewitt teaches a photography class down at the high school every so often. Maybe I can put in a good word for you when I see her at church this Sunday, or you can come and put in a good word yourself.”
I grimace at the thought of soliciting photography classes at church. “Um, I think I’ll let you handle that. I don’t need to be making any more awkward first impressions in this town.”
Granny makes a face. “What do you mean? You haven’t even been here two days.”
“Um,” I begin, setting down my phone as I finish the purchase. “I fell through your ramp literally five minutes after I arrived. You had to call the fire department. That’s pretty bad.”
Granny purses her lips. “Well, it’s not like the whole town saw it happen.”
“Right, but I know how this town talks,” I point out, recalling the stories my father has shared about this place over the years. It’s gossip central. There’s a reason that he left and never came back.
“Oh honey.” She giggles. “No one is going to be talking about you falling through a ramp. Speaking of, I have someone lined up to come fix it; he should be here pretty soon,” she says, glancing down at her watch. “That’s why I’m baking.”
“Oh, that’s great!” I say, relieved that I won’t have to worry about Granny falling through it. “Do you want some help? ”
She gives me a huge grin. “I’d love your help making a batch of cookies.”
I follow her to the kitchen, and we spend the next forty-five minutes making three dozen chocolate chip cookies from scratch.
The time spent in the kitchen brings me out of the slump that I’ve felt all day. In fact, for the first time since we broke up, I don’t even think about Devon at all.
I’m moving the final batch of cookies from the cooling rack to a container when there’s a knock on the door. Granny claps her hands together, and saunters off with a little too much excitement, considering it’s just the handyman.
Maybe she’s got a crush.
But the moment a deep, familiar voice carries through the warm smell of freshly baked cookies, my shoulders drop.
You’ve got to be kidding me. The fireman is the handyman too?
I turn to see Nick walking into my granny’s kitchen, a bright smile on his face.
“Hi,” I choke out so awkwardly that I nearly cringe.
He raises his brow at me, his eyes darting to the cookies. “Looks like you ladies have been busy in here.”
My face grows bright red as I blow a tuft of my hair out of my face. “Um, yeah, you could say that. Want a cookie?”
He nods as I grab the container and hold it out to him. “Thanks,” he says before turning to Granny. “Sorry for being late. This year’s float is gonna be a big one. ”
“Oh, that’s okay.” Granny beams. “We’re just so glad that you came by.”
“I’m gonna go see what I can get done this evening,” he says, taking a bite of his cookie.
“If you don’t finish this evening, you can always come back, you know. My door is always open,” Granny says.
“Well, I certainly won’t leave it unfinished; it’s in pretty bad shape. I’m not even sure any of it is salvageable, but I’ll do my best.”
I wait a few moments before backing away slowly, hoping to slip out of the kitchen and into the laundry room. I do have laundry to do after all…
“Anyway, thanks for the cookie.” Nick directs his attention to me. “I better get to work.”
I nod like my lips are glued shut as he heads back out the front door. It’s only when the door slams shut that I finally relax. “I need to do some laundry.”
“Why don’t you go see if he needs a hand?” Granny suggests instead.
I shake my head. “I’d hate for him to have to pull me out again.”
“Oh, stop,” she chides me, laughing. “You’re not carrying bags the size of Texas, so I doubt you’ll fall through again.”
The sound of a saw—or something like it—startles me. “I think I’ll just stick to doing laundry,” I say, not giving her a chance to protest before I slip away .
I shut the door to the mudroom behind me, and flip open the washer lid. I’m safe here, far away from Mr. Handyman’s irresistible charm and whatnot.
He’s just so … nice.
Almost too nice.
Surely, he must be hiding something behind that mile-wide smile.
Or maybe I’m just being ridiculous. I’m not a man-hater or anything, I just have a healthy dose of skepticism after being burned one too many times. I’m sure there are some genuinely nice guys out there; I’ve just personally never had a run-in with one.
I’d much prefer not to have to try and figure that out anymore .
I switch the load of my clothes from the washer to the dryer and then realize there’s nothing more for me to do. My eyes flicker back to the door where Granny is surely scheming on the other side to force me and Mr. Nice Guy into some kind of meet-cute.
Ugh. I do not want to face her.
Or him for that matter.
I turn my attention to the side door, and for a second, I actually consider making an escape to the backyard, sneaking my way through the back door, and locking myself in my room. There’s just one problem with that: the back door is always locked.
For a town where most swear you can leave your doors unlocked, Granny keeps it shut down.
“Eliza Kate.” Granny wraps her knuckles against the door. “I made some lemonade. Why don’t you take a glass out to Nick?”
Why does he need lemonade? That’s not even hydrating.
I roll my eyes, but I’m not about to cause problems with Granny. She was kind enough to let me stay here.
I open the door with a slightly annoyed smile on my face.
“It’s just the nice thing to do around here,” she says with a shrug. “I know you’re probably used to that uptown cold shoulder way of life, but here, we love on each other.”
I nod, taking the glass from her hand. “Maybe next time we should give him Gatorade or something.” The tone of my voice comes out much more sarcastic than I meant it to. “I don’t think this lemonade is going to do anything but spike his sugar levels.”
“You can be so persnickety sometimes,” Granny teases, bopping me on the nose before sauntering away, humming to herself.
I smile with amusement, glancing down at the glass as I make my way to the front door. This small-town living is quite an adjustment. I feel like I’m living in a completely different world, and I’m not sure how I feel about it.
Different doesn’t mean bad.
That’s what I keep telling myself as I step out onto the front porch. It’s already dark outside, but the porch light is on, and Nick has a few work lights set up. He’s bent over the mid-landing, stripping the rotten boards from where they were nailed in. I stare at him for a few seconds, trying to decide if I’m sweating because of the heat in the laundry room or if I’m just overdressed for the weather.
“Hey,” he says to me .
“Oh, hey,” I mutter, feeling dumb for zoning out on him like an idiot. “I brought you some, uh, lemonade. Well, actually, to be honest, Granny made it. I’m just the mule.”
He breaks into a smile. “Just the mule, huh? Never heard that term before.”
“Yeah, you know, like a drug mule or something,” I say with a shrug. “I watch a lot of documentaries.”
He chuckles, two deep dimples showing on his cheeks. “You like documentaries about drug mules?” He tosses some of the rotten boards onto a small trailer backed up to the ramp.
“Something like that…” My voice trails off as I awkwardly hold out the glass. “But I have, um, stuff to do, so … here.”
Nick strips off his work gloves and takes the glass. “Thanks for the lemonade, and the cookie. I think I’ll be good from here on out, though. If I have any more sugar, I might not be able to sleep tonight.”
I can’t hold back my laughter, shaking my head. “So, I’m not the only one who thinks loading you up with sugar isn’t the best way to go. I tried telling Granny, but she insisted I bring you this.”
“Ah, well.” He shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I love sugar just as much as the next guy, but maybe next time, just bring me water if you have to.”
I feel the heat in my cheeks as I nod. “Yeah, okay.”
“Thanks, Eliza.” He shoots me a grin just as I turn to leave. “Appreciate it.”
“Uh-huh,” I choke out, slipping back inside.
There’s no way in heck I’m ever going back out there.