Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Pretending not to notice the curvy goddess haunting the entryway of the video rental store a week later, I continue to restock tapes.
I know all too well how she responds to potential threats.
Studying her covertly, I wonder what her goal is.
Knowing she’s a carpenter, I’m painfully aware of the sagging shelves, the washed-out walls, and the threadbare gray carpet.
The shop needs work, which was my purpose for seeking her out.
Dressed in a pair of lavender overalls with clouds, she’s a lot of adorable poured into an explosive package.
Clutching a tinfoil-wrapped item in her ring-laden hands, she glares at the door.
Eventually, it swings open, and I turn to face her.
The fluorescent lights flicker above her head. A problem to investigate later.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite pepper wielder.”
She grunts. “You’re hysterical.”
Amused by her deadpan delivery, I disregard her grumpy demeanor. I won’t be satisfied until I see this girl crack a smile. Gruff exterior aside, she draws me like a magnet.
“Should I be worried about your mystery bundle?” Taking a quick look at the circular object emitting a mouthwatering aroma, I try to play it cool.
My interest is caught by the notes of warm vanilla, apple, and cinnamon mingling. My stomach rumbles, reminding me I had missed breakfast this morning.
“Depends on whether you like sweet things.” She comes toward me, and I admire the gentle sway of her hips. Pausing a few inches away, she thrusts the dish at me. “It’s an apology pie.” She peers over my shoulder as she waits for me to take it.
“Huh? I’ve never heard of one of those before. What’s it made with?”
She rolls her eyes. “Regret.”
I laugh. Her jaw ticks.
“Feels closer to a hate pie from where I’m standing.”
Blinking, she rocks back on the heels of her black combat boots. “It’s not.” She lifts the dish toward me again.
“Hmm. Are you sure about that? You’ve got a pretty wicked stare going.”
“You have no clue what I’m actually thinking,” she says, unimpressed by my teasing.
“I’m pretty good at reading between the lines, Pepper.” I squint. “You’re cute when you’re disgruntled. Did you know that?”
“Just take it.” She toys with the silver wrapping.
“Or what? You’re going to toss it in my face?”
Her jaw drops. Closing her mouth quickly, she clears her throat. “Fine.” She pulls the dish back.
“No. No. No.” I reach out and grab it. Our fingers brush. Energy surges to life between us. An audible hum fills the room. I peer down, expecting to see sparks. Her brown eyes widen, and her full lips part. She felt it too.
Releasing the pie as if it’s on fire, she steps back quickly. “It’s all yours. I need to get back to the store.”
“Don’t be a stranger, Pepper. Our spicy start doesn’t have to define the rest of our relationship.”
“We don’t have a relationship.”
The sound of her voice is a pleasant melody I want to hear again—often. Desperate for more time with her, I scramble for an excuse to prolong our encounter. “Hold on a second. Do you have a membership? That would make up for the assault.”
Stopping, she turns to face me. “The thing went off on its own, and no, I do not want or need a card here, Mr. Sunshine.” She speaks the nickname as if it hurts her to say.
“Oh, so you agree to the nickname stage? Nice to know I’m not alone.”
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
For a moment, her lip quirks up. She spins, walking away.
Hypnotized by the swing of her shiny black ponytail, I admire her plump backside as she exits.
A man would have to be dead not to notice how striking she is.
Outside, she glances over her shoulder. Curiosity shines in her dark eyes.
Facing forward, she strides briskly to her family’s store, Joiner’s Hardware.
That woman is a mystery I want to solve.
Interest stirs for the first time in months. Surprised by the intense attraction, I peel back the foil to redirect my thoughts. The perfectly glazed brown crust of the apple pie is straight out of a cooking show. A maple leaf pattern replaces the traditional lattice design.
I see the love she put into the intricate design.
The woman has talented hands. For a moment, I wonder what they’d feel like on my skin.
Blood rushes down. My libido has officially returned after nearly a year.
It’s amazing how intense stress and heartbreak can affect your entire body.
You bring me good luck, Pepper, even if you don’t want to.
Intrigued by the grumpy carpenter, I walk to the back room.
She’s the only customer I’ve seen all day.
“I could smell that all the way into the office.” Uncle Ralph looks up from his seat behind the old wooden desk.
Neat piles of papers, files, and books line the surface.
I set the still-warm pie in front of him.
The old faded green walls are a history of the store.
Articles, photographs, and awards we’ve received hang in black frames.
I can’t help but notice the last of them is from nearly ten years prior.
“You don’t know what a treasure you have there,” he says appreciatively.
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration, don’t you think?” This isn’t a Michelin-star restaurant.
He shakes his head. “If I’m not mistaken, that’s the Joiner family’s caramel apple pie. It’s won many a contest. You’re lucky if you can get a piece when they bring them to town events. You have the whole kit and caboodle to yourself.”
The excitement on his face takes years off him.
“Her father’s family can build, but her mother’s family can cook with an otherworldly skill.”
“Sounds like you’re thinking with your stomach.”
Chuckling, he nods. “Maybe. You will too once you taste it.” He hops up, still spry despite being in his mid-sixties.
Returning with plates and plastic silverware, he cuts out two pieces. Closing his eyes, he inhales, savoring the moment like he’s in a fine-dining restaurant.
“You take the first bite.” He nudges the plate closer.
Humoring him, I dig my fork in and take a bite. Flavor explodes like a firework, and my eyes close. Rich sweetness dances on my taste buds, chased by the right amount of spice. It’s a heavenly combination of tart, burned sugar, and creamy vanilla.
Shocked, I open my eyes and stare at my uncle’s smug face.
“Now you understand. This town is full of special people, places, and traditions. Don’t discount them. They’re what make Chance Falls what it is. Your dad never appreciated that, but it doesn’t mean you can’t.”
I nod, soaking up his knowledge and guidance. He’s a breath of fresh air after the stifling world of high stakes, hinging on quick decisions, accuracy, and tight time frames.
“Did he ever say why he left?”
Uncle Ralph sighs. “There was no need. He wanted more than slow living in this small town. He craved action and opportunities for growth beyond what was possible here. You coming back is a good thing. It’s going to breathe life into the old building.
When we have one of our own running a company, things stick, and there’s easy growth. ”
“What do you mean, Uncle Ralph?” There’s an undercurrent to this town I’m still not tapped into.
“The way it was told to me, we did more than settle in this area. We made a bargain. A trade, if you will.”
“With who? For what?” Scratching my head, I eye him, puzzled.
Exhaling, his expression becomes serious. “Everyone has a different story for that. We always believed there was a deal made with land spirits. As long as we were good stewards to the town, it’d return the favor by making harvest plentiful, and businesses thrive.”
“Are you pulling my leg?” I stare at him for hints of levity, entranced by the legends he’s bringing to life. When we visited growing up, campfire tales were my favorite.
“You must’ve noticed it by now. This place has a way of giving us exactly what we need most. And if we trust that inner voice, and go with our gut, things have a way of working out.”
Despite everything I’ve experienced recently, I want to believe him. The bell chimes, signaling a customer and ending our conversation.
“You stay and finish your dessert. I’ve got the front.”
Doing as I’m told; I look at the statement he left in plain sight. My mood sours. We’re creeping closer to being in the red each pay cycle. Either our bargain is ending, or we’ve pissed the deal maker off, because we need to turn things around now to stay afloat.
I know Phil is the catalyst for change. If I can’t get her to work with me, I need an alternative.
Fletch hasn’t steered me wrong yet. I pop the last bite of pie into my mouth.
It’s time to set things in motion. Moving from behind the desk to the front, I pass my uncle, who’s helping an older woman select a movie.
“I’m going to take my fifteen,” I call to him on my way out of the store.
“Don’t rush back. It’s been slow today.”
Most days, from what I can see.
I won’t let the family business go down without a fight.
Reel Haven has great bones. It just needs a makeover, a rebrand, a little polish, and some new structures.
Okay, it needs a lot, but I’m ready to roll up my sleeves and dig in.
With the renewal of interest in retro things, we’re poised for a major comeback.
Fall window displays draw my attention to shops.
Cheerful scarecrows sit on bales of hay next to pumpkins and bumpy gourds.
One shop window features potted chrysanthemums paired with teddy bears having a picnic.
They’re trying hard for whimsy and classic American style, but there’s a lackluster quality that makes it seem dated.
A nearly translucent Charlie Brown and the gang attempt to greet me from one window. It’s almost like I’m watching this place disappear in real time. A plump, watery orange Garfield waves from another window with a wane Odie.