Chapter 14
When Cal arrived back at the office for lunch on Tuesday, Carrie was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she was in the can? Cal was alone in the office, which was a good thing because he’d just messaged Vic and was feeling jumpy.
He wolfed down a sandwich and attempted a pep talk, muttering under his breath, “Give your head a shake, man. It’s just a job.
A job.” But it didn’t matter how much he berated himself.
He couldn’t get himself to chill out. He paced the room, waiting for Vic to answer his text about a time to come over and assess the house with as much nervousness as if he’d already asked her out.
Already asked her out?
Well, that explained the nerves. Apparently, the part of his brain not in denial knew that was his plan.
When his phone dinged, he jumped, and his heart thudded.
“Any time after 5:00 works great for me. And any time after 9:30, Audra is asleep for the night. Just saying. ;)”
Cal stared at the little winking emoji behind Vic’s text for a long time, something fluttering in his gut. He rolled his eyes at himself, but it couldn’t shake his smile. Here he was, a very crotchety fifty-four, feeling like a teenager or something.
“Tonight then? Say . . . 9:30?”
Again, he waited what seemed like an interminable time.
A little thumbs-up icon popped up.
He hesitated only a moment. “And if I brought pizza, would you be too full having just had dinner?”
A string of party poppers, praying hands, and smiling faces with party hats filled his screen.
He’d take that as a yes, she’d like pizza. He was embarrassed by the size of his grin, even though he was alone.
“Wow, what are you smiling at? You look like the cat who got the canary.”
Vic was petite and vivacious, but Cal doubted she’d appreciate being the “canary” in Carrie’s scenario. His grin deepened.
Carrie’s eyebrows shot toward her hairline. “Oh, my—there’s a woman. Wait! Is it Vic? It has to be Vic. Why don’t I know her? Why haven’t I met her?”
Carrie never missed anything. It was super annoying. He smiled even more. Dammit.
“It’s early days, Care. Early days.” Reality slapped him. He shook his head a little. “It’s not even early days. We haven’t been on a date or anything. I’m just—”
“Crushing?”
Cal grimaced, then scrubbed his hand through his beard. It needed a trim. “Yeah. Maybe. Shut up.”
So, he wasn’t only thirteen around Vic. He was thirteen with his sibling too. Perfect.
To his surprise, though, Carrie didn’t tease him. Or even punch him supportively. She came over and gave him a hug. “I’m glad. Just enjoy it. Even if it doesn’t go anywhere.”
When his initial surprise wore off—they weren’t a huggy family—he squeezed back. Then he gave her a quizzical look.
“You’ve been sad for so long,” she said simply, knowing his question without him having to verbalize it. “It’s good, beyond good, to see you happy about something. Hopeful.”
Her words so closely echoed his own thoughts about himself the past weekend that all he could do was nod.
The shop phone rang, Carrie answered it, then settled into her desk chair and pulled out a list of materials he’d given her earlier. Must be a supplier on the line.
He went back to his planning. Would two pizzas be too much? Too obvious? Should he get his beloved pineapple, pepperoni, banana peppers, and onion, or was she just being kind? Should stick with something—
“Okay, Romeo,” Carrie interrupted his menu planning, “true love or not, you still gotta work. Sister needs a new pair of shoes.”
She had a point—though not about the shoes. She had a closet full of them.
“Think of them like worn-out flannel shirts,” she’d once said when he was ribbing her. “Why do you need so many of them?”
Fair. People had their things they liked.
He slapped his thighs, clearing his thoughts, and pulled out his phone to see what was next up on his scheduling calendar.
His final “job” of the day couldn’t come fast enough.
*
Vic’s porchlight was aglow in the darkness, and even though the night was already cold enough for Cal to see his breath and the characteristic Greenridge dampness had settled into his bones, warmth suffused him.
And then Vic opened the door. Perhaps she’d just gotten out of the shower, because her face was flushed a soft pink and a few damp tendrils of her reddish-brown hair (such a great color; reminded him of maple leaves in the sunshine) had escaped her—what did Carrie call it again?
A messy bun. Right. Anyway. Some strands of hair had escaped and curled around her face.
So cute. She was in a soft-looking gray sweatsuit.
Not date attire (Of course not, you idiot.
You’re here to give a quote. It’s a job!
You just happen to be eating together.), but he loved the look.
She beamed up at him, big brown eyes shining.
It felt like his heart literally grew seeing her smile.
“You came!”
“I did,” he replied, equally cleverly. They weren’t going to be winning any best banter awards, were they?
And then she registered the pizza boxes he was holding. “And you brought two pizzas!”
Her surprised delight was so genuine that a rush of pride went through him. Over bringing pizzas. Ridiculous.
“That’s some heavy-duty flirting,” she added with a wink.
He grinned back. “I know. All the ladies tell me how smooth my moves are.”
She was laughing as he followed her into the house, trying not to notice how the fleece pants hugged her heart-shaped butt—and failing badly, obviously.
“Eat first, then . . . work?” she asked.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Vic paused by the doorway to the kitchen, then moved toward the living room instead.
“We’ll be comfier here, I think. And it’s warmer.” A little natural electric fireplace flickered in one corner, and slate-gray suede furniture was softened with faux fur throw pillows.
He also noted there were colorful blankets everywhere.
A plush rose-pink microfiber one bunched up as if just used on one arm of the couch.
Another on the back of the matching wide chair.
A blanket ladder in the corner of the room with four variegated wool blankets hung artfully on each dowel.
Cal didn’t know much about blankets, but his friend Steve’s wife, Sylvia, sold things that looked a lot like them at the farmer’s market.
He thought maybe they were handwoven. Expensive. Nice quality.
It was a cozy room, and Cal wondered if that was down to Audra or to Vic once she’d moved back. They settled around a low coffee table, him on the chair, her on the end of the couch closest to her. She pulled the jumbled blanket over her legs.
“I’m always cold,” she said, like she needed to apologize or something.
“Let’s dig in.”
Evie B’s had provided lots of napkins, and Cal wasn’t sure why exactly, but he loved how Vic didn’t fuss or suggest they needed plates or, even worse, forks and knives.
“Your tried and true,” she said with approval when she lifted the box lid.
“Yeah, but in case it’s too weird for you and you were just being nice before, I got a pepperoni mushroom too. I hope you don’t hate mushrooms.”
Vic laughed and took a slice, scooping up a wayward piece of pineapple and dropping it into her mouth. “I told you, remember? I love all the pizza—and pepperoni, pineapple, banana peppers, and onions is not weird! My all-time favorite is, wait for it . . . smoked oysters and onion.”
Cal paused mid-reach for his first piece. “Smoked oysters and onion pizza?”
Vic shrugged. “It’s delicious. Trust me.” She took a big bite and sighed happily. “So is this, though. The hot with the sweet. Mmmm. Perfect.”
The hot with the sweet was right. Cal had a hard time concentrating on the taste of his favorite food.
“Have you always lived here?” Vic asked through a mouthful of pizza, then blushed. “Sorry.” She swallowed. “Have you always lived here?”
Cal wanted to tell her he didn’t care if she talked with her mouth full. It was just nice to have someone who wanted to chat.
“Yeah, off and on. My parents split when I was twelve and my mom moved to Vancouver. I alternated years with each of them.” My parents split. Such a simple-sounding, innocuous statement for something that had taken so long for him to get over. Not that them living together had been any easier.
Vic nodded slowly and wiped her hands on a napkin. “That must’ve been very hard on you.”
He was about to say, Nah, it was fine, and was surprised by what came out instead. “It was. Thanks.”
They each reached for a slice of the pepperoni mushroom at the same time, and their hands brushed. Their eyes met, and Cal wished he’d sat beside her on the couch. He was out of practice, for sure, but even he could feel this was the perfect moment to lean in and—
“Shoot!” Vic jerked her hand away and shoved her blanket off. “I totally forgot to ask if you want something to drink.” She hopped up and left the room. When she returned, she had a tray bearing two diet Cokes, a regular ginger ale, a pomegranate juice, and a beer.
She looked self-consciously down at the offerings. “I guess I could’ve asked you what you wanted before I went.”
“You never know,” he said, grabbing a Coke. “We might want multiple beverages.”
“True.” Her smile was wry, but at least it was there again. “Very true.”
“So, you grew up here?” he asked, continuing the conversation that they’d interrupted.
“Yeah, more or less. I moved away as soon as I graduated, though.”
“Bright lights, big city?”
“Not even close.” She shook her head and picked up the pomegranate juice.
Twisting off the lid, she added, “Motherhood and, I hoped, wifehood—is that even a word? I don’t know. But it’s what I wanted.”
Somewhere in her sentence, Cal had lost the plot. She graduated and moved away because she wanted to be a mom and get married? That seemed like something you stayed in your hometown to do if your heart was set on it right after high school.
“Really? That surprises me.”
Vic flashed him a hard-to-read look. “Does it? Why?”