Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
JOSH
Avery steps back, sets her hands on her beautifully curved hips, and releases a heavy sigh. Like a popped balloon, she deflates before my very eyes. Or like a marionette whose puppeteer snapped its strings. Or a woman who just got asked the wrong question.
After what feels like forever, she meets my gaze again, but the light has gone out in her eyes.
Did she really want me to kiss her?
It’s been a long time since a woman wanted that from me, and I’m not sure I’d recognize the signs anymore. Sad to say, I can’t remember the last time I kissed Lisa before she died, other than a brief peck on the cheek. I shouldn’t be thinking about any of this anyway. Especially not here in the Trede parking lot.
“That’s a complicated answer,” Avery finally says, her voice sounding very different than it did moments ago. “And a lot of it is personal. I’m pretty sure I don’t even know the half of it, even though she’s my best friend.”
Avery’s looking at me like it’s my turn to speak, but it takes me a few beats to remember what my question was. “I don’t mean to pry. But Leia insisted that Eli stay away from the Parks and Rec department, but he seems very intent on being involved in the process.”
She looks off to the side like she’s considering what she can tell me, but when she bites her lip, I have to close my eyes to avoid joining in the fun. Instead, I force work words past a clenched jaw.
“The day we met, you told me they were rivals in high school and that they’d dated. If there’s anything else you’d be comfortable sharing, I’d like to hear it. I need to understand their history if I’m to have a chance at convincing him to stay away.”
She sighs, still gazing off somewhere past my shoulder. I’ve made a good argument. Saying more would likely put her off. Instead, I study her profile. Academically, of course. Her straight nose, with just a tiny little upturn at the end. The way her golden hair falls past her shoulders in a shimmery curtain. The plump lower lip captured by her top teeth as she thinks.
When she faces me again, I drop my gaze, feeling caught.
“There’s one thing I could tell you, but really, I need to show you.”
Hands out, palms up, I nod. “Sure, I’ll take it.”
She pulls her phone from her back pocket and checks it. “Do you have a half hour?”
When I nod again, she points at a car a few rows over in the guest parking lot. “Follow me.”
Ten minutes later, I’m parked next to her in a downtown lot. She tips her head to the side, and I follow her quick stride toward the waterfront. Behind city hall, stately mansions perch along a road curving steeply up the cliffside. Eli’s house is up there, and I wonder briefly if that’s why Avery brought me here. But as I follow her down the cobblestone street, away from the fancier part of town, my gaze drops to her tantalizingly swinging hips, and the questions I really want to ask have nothing to do with our bosses. If my ability to support my kids weren’t on the line, I’d say, Forget Eli and Leia, tell me about you, Avery .
I want to know everything from what made her want to work with kids to why she doesn't have her own children to what those lips would feel like pressed up against mine.
“So, here’s the thing.” She stops at the corner and points at the homes hugging the cliffs. “Millionaire’s Row has always been out of reach for the middle class. They were built by the one-percenters of the time.”
“Back when a millionaire was a major deal?”
“Still a pretty big deal around here. Anyway…” Turning, she leads me down a block and then back up another cobblestone street, away from the water again. This one is lined by tiny but well-crafted bungalows. “These cottages were built for factory workers. Even though they’re well over a hundred years old and in need of work, the prices are out of reach for most locals. Teachers, firefighters, nurses...”
“And the director of the Parks and Recreation department?” I ask, getting where this is going.
“Right.” She nods slowly, tapping her breastbone. “Program managers too. None of us can afford to live here anymore. So we’re stuck in apartments near the highway, unless we want to move outside Climax to the unincorporated county.”
“I get that it must be frustrating, but real estate prices have gone up all over the country.” I take in the sturdy little brick homes with inviting front porches and miniature front yards. I’d say about half are under construction, and a quarter have been recently renovated. The others look like they’re struggling to stand. “And at least gentrification is saving the old buildings.”
Avery shoves her hands in her pockets, and I fall in step next to her as she begins to walk toward the waterfront again. Before I can ask what this has to do with Eli, she stops again and says something under her breath.
“Sorry, I missed that.”
She mumbles, “It’s nothing,” while staring at a house the way I wish someone would look at me. Like it could make her dreams come true.
“Is that one special to you?”
“My great-great grandfather was its first owner. My family hung on to it until my grandmother died twenty years ago.” Her voice is steady, but she takes a moment to swallow, like there’s a lump in her throat. “I’ve always hoped to buy it back, but even though I put money away for a downpayment every week, I don’t think I’ll have enough. Unless things have changed drastically when it goes on the market again.”
“Anyway.” She flips a hand in the air, walking more briskly down the hill. “When Trede moved in, things got exponentially worse. These days, every single house anywhere in Climax not only gets snapped up, but bidding wars drive up the prices even higher.”
“And Leia blames Eli.”
“Exactly. It’s also been particularly rough on her and Travis. When they split up, the kids were still really young, so they created what a lot of people thought was a crazy setup, but now it’s a thing. They call it nesting.”
“I’ve heard of that.” Despite the subject matter, walking side by side with Avery is comfortable. Comforting, even. “Where the kids stay in place and the parents move in and out when it’s their turn for custody?”
She nods. “They’ve had a little house near the rec center since the kids were born, and they also have a studio apartment nearby. But now that Trede is bringing in all these people from California and whatnot who think half a million dollars for a two-bedroom house is a bargain, one landlord wants to sell and the other’s jacking up the rent. While their salaries have been frozen. So, yeah. Leia’s pissed at Eli.”
When she doesn’t add anything else, I say, “Thank you for taking the time to tell—or show—this to me. Even though it seems like there may still be feelings between them, it’ll probably be easier to get him to back off if it’s about business. He’s very excited about transforming Climax Parks and Rec, but hopefully these data points and the fact that we have a new crop of entrepreneurs to focus on will be enough to keep him out of your boss’s hair.”
The sidewalk has narrowed, so I’ve been following behind her. When she suddenly stops, I have to step to the side to avoid running into her. Once I’ve righted myself, all I can see are two perfect pink lips pressed together in a line. “I mean it, I really appre?—”
She holds up a hand between us. “I know I’m supposed to talk to you about Playgroup and all the other programming, but I need to apologize first.”
“For what?”
She blows out a breath and looks up. “For… avoiding you. Being rude to you. Not returning your calls at first.” Before I can accept her apology, she blurts out, “I didn’t know it was about work stuff. I thought you were hitting on me.”
“Um, well. For the record, I do need to discuss Parks and Rec programming with you…” It’s a bad idea—a very bad idea—but that doesn’t stop me from blurting out the truth. “But I also can’t stop thinking about you. What it would be like to kiss you.”
Her cheeks pink up, but she meets my gaze. “For the record, I’ve wondered that too. Since you first helped me pick up those art supplies.”
“Then why were you avoiding me?”
“Because I thought you were taken.” She points at my left hand. “You’re wearing a ring.”
“Oh. Right.” I lift my hand and stare at my wedding ring. The one I’ve taken off and put back on many times over the past year and a half.
“Eli told me today that you’re a widower. I’m sorry for your loss.” She tucks her hands in her back pockets. “Is that why you still wear the ring? Because you’re still grieving?”
“It’s not so much that, it’s… it’s just easier to wear it, because, I mean, I am…” How to say this? “Taken. By my kids.”
“Is… all of you taken?” Avery steps closer, and all I can focus on are her gray-blue eyes, the color of a gathering storm. Until she trails a finger over my jaw and every brain cell rushes to meet her touch. “I mean, what about this part?”
“That’s… available.” My throat’s somehow too full of my heart to get much sound out but when her mouth replaces her fingertip, I think it might explode.
“And this?”
Her lips skate to the spot between my jaw and my ear and I manage something like, “Yeah, um, that’s wide open too.”
Her warm breath hovers over the corner of my mouth as she whispers, “Is anyone using this these days?”
“You,” I growl, grasping her jaw in my hands and pulling her mouth to mine. “Just you.” A gentle brush of my lips over hers quickly morphs to a demand for more. To explore every inch of her mouth, inside and out. My hands can’t get enough of her hair, even silkier than I’d imagined. When we stumble into a tree, every hard place in me meets all her softness as I press her into its trunk.
I’d worry that it’s too much, but she pulls me even closer. I’m echoing her needy moans and whimpers with groans, and I can barely tell where she begins, and I end. The tolling of a bell resonates through our bodies. When it happens again, Avery freezes. On the third peal, she shoves me away and staggers back.
Eyes wild, she looks everywhere but at me. “I, uh, have to go.”
The next morning, I’m still reeling from that interrupted kiss. Confused about why Avery literally sprinted away from me, of course. But also thrown by how the kiss made me feel.
Before my kids were born, I kind of assumed that I was just the kind of person who didn’t feel anything deeply. That I was just an even-tempered guy. I’d always had plenty of friends and could always find something to like about pretty much every person I met. I figured it was a good thing that I didn’t suffer from heartbreak like other people or get into fights or get my feelings hurt.
I mean, I wondered what it must feel like to fall deeply in love, but it wasn’t like I missed something I’d never felt.
Until the moment I held Mabel in my arms. The rush of emotions totally blindsided me. I knew I’d die for her. Or kill for her. Her safety and happiness made all the things I’d valued before seem insignificant.
I’d hoped that Mabel might bring Lisa and me closer, that my feelings for my wife might deepen. That I was learning how to be in love. Instead, it was like Lisa and I traded places at that moment. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get back to work and I could barely make myself leave the house because I resented the time I had to be away from my daughter.
It happened all over again with Percy. The wallop of falling in love with my son even as the gap between my wife and me widened. As a result, I figured that while I am capable of some deep feelings, I’m just not made for romance.
Until last night.
The attraction between Avery and me has been obvious since the moment she dropped those boxes, revealing those big blue eyes, set so perfectly in her heart-shaped face, framed by hair that is as soft and inviting as the rest of her. I’ve loved watching her with the kids in Playgroup and admired her deft handling of squabbles, whether they’re between children or parents.
But the moment our lips met, something else happened.
Part instinctive, almost-animalistic urge, part soul-baring need, the drive to fuse my entire self with her was so strong, I don’t know what I would’ve done if that bell hadn’t startled me back to reality.
“Can I help you?”
Crashing down to earth all over again, it takes me a moment to figure out where I am. Which means I navigated my way to the mayor’s office completely on autopilot. Hopefully, no one was harmed in the process.
I smile at the receptionist looking at me like I’ve been staring off into space for far too long. “Um, yes. Sorry. I have an appointment. Josh Harmon from Trede?”
“Oh, yes of course, Mr. Harmon. I didn’t place you without the others. She’ll see you in a moment.”
Every other meeting with the mayor of Climax has included Eli and his usual entourage as well as myself, and I do try to melt into the background in order to most efficiently observe and strategize. From previous meetings I’ve determined that the mayor of Climax—a shrewd woman, perhaps battle-scarred from having to fight for every penny—obviously cares about the town she serves. Since I need to finalize a few things with the administration before we can move forward with the next phase of the Parks and Rec plan, I’m curious to see what it’ll be like to work with her one-on-one.
Moments later I’m sitting across from Martina Diaz, a woman who could be anywhere from forty to sixty. Diaz always looks like she expects to be disappointed, but when I make it clear that I’m here to get things done, her smile shifts from wary to complicit. In minutes, she’s connected me with the city employees and contractors with whom I’ll need to interface, and I have her okay to move forward with the next phase of the project.
As she’s walking me out, the clock bell tolls. Suddenly on fire from the memory of the last time it rang, I pull at the collar of my shirt before checking my watch, just to make sure that I won’t be late for my next meeting. What I see stops me in my tracks. “What is up with that clock, anyway? It’s ten twenty-two. Not the top of the hour or even the quarter.”
“You haven’t visited the gift shop?” Mayor Diaz asks, her Brooklyn accent making her out-of-context question sound like an accusation.
“Gift shop?” Before she can explain, I add, “Can’t the owner fix it?”
“Not unless they want to give the money back.”
“What money? And who are they?”
“A large sum of money was bequeathed to the city by the clock’s creator, including an endowment for the maintenance of the entire waterfront.” The mayor gestures toward the bank of windows overlooking the Hudson. Outside, people stroll down the boardwalk past well-kept planters and comfortable-looking benches. “People walk along the river, they stop for a drink or an ice cream or to browse in one of the little shops…”
“The waterfront is an amenity that the town values. That makes sense.”
“Exactly.”
“But why does the clock ring at random times? Is it some kind of mindfulness thing?”
“Depends on who you ask.” Hands behind her back, she moves closer to the windows, and I follow. “And whether you believe the answer.”
“What’s there to believe?”
“Supposedly, the bell tolls when someone’s falling in love.”
“How the hell would it know that?”
Her knowing smirk makes it clear that she sees right through me and my besotted heart. “Have you ever heard of an Ormolu clock?”
Again, not what I was expecting to hear. “I… no, I have not.”
“Okay, well,” she begins, and then proceeds to tell a long and winding tale about Climax Clocks and its founder Klaus something-or-other. “He had what they used to call Mad Hatter’s disease.”
“Oh, like that guy in the S-Town podcast? They think he died of mercury poisoning from restoring clocks?”
“Yes, like that guy,” she says with a huff. “Anyway, creating the Ormolu clocks was just as dangerous as fixing them. Something to do with how they applied the gold paint. Anyway, he was some sort of genius, but also not quite right in the head. He said that when two people kiss or”—she breaks off, her neck and chest turning as pink as her cheeks—“um, you know…”
“Climax?”
She snorts. “Yeah. That. He claimed that he created an instrument that could detect some sort of vibrations that are emitted when soulmates, uh, come together.”
“And that sets off the clock?”
“That’s the legend. If the bell tolls, someone’s found their one true love.”
Is that what happened last night? Is Avery my one true love? I let this line of thought go for about forty-two seconds before chastising myself. I may read my kids fairy tales, but I don’t believe in them.
Thankfully, the mayor is gazing out the window, a dreamy look on her face. “Somewhere in Climax, someone fell in love at ten twenty-two this morning.”
“Did he?”
“He who?” She blinks for a moment before looking over at me. “Klaus Clijsters?”
“Right. The clock guy. Did he fall in love?”
The corners of her lips lift slowly as she gazes at the bell tower. “He did, actually. According to the book in the gift shop, anyway.”
“At least he had a happy ever after.”
She turns back to me with a wince. “Well, only for a couple of years. I think they both died horrible deaths from mercury poisoning.”
“Oh.”
“You want to know what’s worse? Up until a few years ago, the gift shop did a lovely job selling the romance. But just when local businesses busted out romantic hotel packages and restaurant menus all centered around the clock, that darn podcast took off and now, all anybody wants to talk about is the similarity to the clock guy in S-Town .” She shakes her head. “That is not the image we were hoping for.”