Chapter 4 #2
An explosion of color stops me dead in my tracks. Vinyl records with bright patterns hang down from the ceiling. Mannequins dressed in 80s punk rock fashion of spiky collars and fishnet tops clash with the neon-colored urban streetwear of the late nineties.
Record players, cassette machines, and old Apple color computers rest at their feet.
Tiny trinkets of my youth draw me in. Simon Says, digital pets, and pogs rest on a small table, inviting me to play.
I open the door and instantly recognize Kurt Cobain’s unique vocals.
The scent of dragon’s blood incense fills the space.
Fletch waves to me. “You look a million times better than the last time I saw you.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
He snickers. I lean against the counter across from him. “I need a favor.”
“Okay, shoot.” Making a trigger with his fingers, he fires.
“I still need help with the project I wanted to hire Phil for. After our last meeting, that seems unlikely to happen.”
Fletch frowns. “Phil’s always been down to tackle a challenge. If you ask her, she’d more than likely accept.”
While the thought of spending time with her is tempting, the business comes first.
“Right now, she needs the additional work,” Fletch adds.
“Why?”
Fletch pauses. “She had a job managing projects for a big construction company. They got bought out and restructured with their own people. Then her old man had a stroke, and the shop went dark for a bit.” He winces.
“The town’s pace is much slower than what she’s used to, and she’s trying to make up for the lost income, so she’s taking on side gigs. ”
That explains her mood. Her life’s been turned upside down. I know how that feels. “What’s my other option?”
“Used to be you could ask her father. He still takes on small-commission work to rebuild his dexterity. I’m not sure what he’s up to at this point in his recovery.”
“I’ll try him first. How do I set up a meeting?”
“I’ll call him now. He works from home.”
“Look, his daughter already thought I was a stalker before. This won’t help my case.”
Fletch laughs. “This is how we do business around here. Plenty of folks have spaces in their homes dedicated to their hobbies or passion projects.”
“Huh.”
“You’re far away from the city. Things in Chance Falls run differently. Here, I’ll call him and see what time he has available.”
“I appreciate it.”
Nodding, he picks up the phone. I scan the store, focusing on the pile of CD cases on the counter behind him. It’s an old-school playlist.
“He has an opening in two days, around three o’clock. Does that work for you?” Fletch asks.
“Yeah, that’s perfect.” In for a penny, in for a pound. “It’s that easy?” I ask, waiting for the ground to fall out from under me. I narrow my eyes. “Are you going to get me maced again?”
Shaking his head, Fletch snickers. “No, you’ll be fine. Trust me.”
I lean into the new friendship. I won’t be bound to the past and let Jared have that power over me. Not every friend betrays.
Two Days Later
On the porch of a two-story white farmhouse with light blue shutters and window boxes full of yellow mums, I feel like I stepped into the past. A festive welcome sign with autumn leaves rests against the side of the house.
Pillows with a similar leaf pattern and red gingham backing decorate a porch swing.
The setup radiates care and comfort, creating a welcoming homey vibe.
I knock on the wooden door and step back.
Tightening my grip on the assorted cheeses and meats basket I had put together, I’m reminded of the reruns of Little House on the Prairie I watched with my mom.
In a different setting, I’d be calling on them to court their daughter.
The door swings open, revealing a dark-skinned man with sharp, angular features.
Cropped close to his head, his gray hair boasts a shock of white, like his daughter’s.
So, it’s a birthmark, not dye. The right side of his face droops slightly.
While not frail, he’s underweight for his six-foot-plus height.
“Good afternoon, sir.”
He smiles. “Call me Bill, young man; come on in.”
I step in, and he closes the door behind me.
“That for me?” He eyes the basket.
“Yes, just a thank you for seeing me.” I hold it out to him.
Accepting the gift with his left hand, he studies me. “Fletch’s call surprised me.”
“Oh?” I tilt my head.
“I’ve slowed down on my side work since the stroke. I sometimes take on smaller tasks, since the doc cleared me, but it’s on a case-by-case basis for obvious reasons.” He grips the handle of his ebony wood cane a little tighter.
He sets the basket on a buffet table against the wall in the spacious entry area. I take in the pine wood flooring, white shiplap walls, and family photos on the wall. A miniature copy of Phil grows up in front of my eyes, shot by shot.
“My meeting room connects to the house.” He makes his way down the hall with a slow but steady gait into a sunroom.
A portable kerosene heater warms the room against chills when the temperature drops.
White side tables and a larger center table with coasters surround white chairs with red gingham cushions.
“Have a seat.” He motions to a chair, and I take him up on the offer and wait, allowing him to lead. A strange silence settles. After a few moments, he cracks a smile that gentles his craggy face. “I like a man who’s not afraid of quiet. Tell me what brings you by.”
“I want to do some upgrades to Reel Haven. New end displays and a few interactive creations to bring younger people in for the first time, and older customers back.” We both know it’s more work than he’s ready to take on. But I respect him enough not to sugarcoat it.
He nods his head. “Running a business is an act of endurance.”
“I’m learning that, sir.”
“We all work together here in town. If one of us succeeds, we all do. If one of us fails, more are sure to follow. Do you understand?” His dark eyes bore into mine.
I turn the words over. “I’m not sure I do,” I admit.
Crossing a denim-covered leg over his right knee, he rubs his chin. “In a place this small, signs of decay, waning sales, and low birth rates are a scary thing. It wouldn’t take much to tip the carefully balanced scale that keeps us on an upward trajectory.”
“Ahh. Yes. I get what you mean now.” His words are in line with what Uncle Ralph says. The entire town buys into this legend.
“What you need is someone who can connect with the younger crowd. Each generation has a slow handover of the reins. Which is why you need my daughter for this task, not me.”
“I don’t think she’ll agree to that,” I say.
He grunts. “I heard all about that nasty business with the pepper spray. My Phil is a good girl. She’s fair and hardworking. You two are in the same situation. It’s in your best interest to get along and put this mess behind you. Partnerships thrive in this town.”
“I have nothing against her—”
“Good. Then we’ll get the two of you linked up. Tell me more about what you had in mind.”
Bill Joiner is a powerhouse with years of experience.
Like my uncle, he stayed with the family business and dug his heels in.
I’m going to soak up every morsel of information he gives, whether or not his daughter likes it.
Annoying Pepper would actually be a plus, because it means she’s not ignoring the strange pull between us.