Chapter 26
The kitchen windows were steamy with the beef barley soup Vic was reheating for lunch, along with buns she was warming in the oven, and she put on a playlist called “cozy winter day” while she waited for Cal.
The good smell and mellow music, combined with the Christmas lights she’d strung through the house on the weekend, made her feel festive—and she hoped the peaceful ambiance would make Audra calm the frick down and stop pacing and muttering.
Vic loved working at the Second Chance Shop—and that wasn’t an exaggeration—yet it was weirdly fun to be playing hooky.
“Do you want to eat with me or in your sitting room?”
“Well, I’m not eating here with the Wrench Monkey due to arrive any minute.”
“You have to stop calling him that. It’s rude. His name is Cal.”
“He looks like a Wrench Monkey to me. A hairy one.”
Vic opened her mouth to protest. Then shut it again. What was she going to say? He doesn’t look like a monkey, Mom. He’s handsome. And he seems genuinely kind. Audra would probably just arch one of her thin brows and say, “Monkeys can be handsome and kind, Victoria.” Argh.
Instead of a futile response, she filled a blue-patterned bowl she knew Audra liked half full and put it on a tray. Then she added a side plate of saltines, one of the warmed rolls, and a wedge of butter.
“That snobby little shop is making you all fancy-shmancy,” Audra grumbled, but Vic thought she liked the presentation, and when, a minute later, Audra asked, “Are there any more strawberries?” Vic knew she was right.
She retrieved the remainder of the berries they’d had after dinner last night, already washed and cut, and put them in a tiny crystal dessert bowl.
Audra sniffed. “No one uses crystal anymore.”
“That’s okay. We can.”
Vic had purchased some mismatched cloth napkins in a variety of colors and prints from the shop, unable to resist the patterns or the ridiculously low price Madeline had set them at.
She finished Audra’s tray with a pale-yellow napkin with a tiny blue bird in one corner and added a knife, soup spoon, and dessert spoon.
Something that might’ve almost been a smile ghosted across Audra’s face. It flitted away the second Vic started toward the dining room table with the tray.
“I said I want to eat in my living room!”
“Right, okay, okay. I forgot.”
“You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t nailed on.”
Vic sighed and obediently marched toward the back of the house, Audra trailing behind her, breathing raggedly.
It was funny that Cal wasn’t there yet. She’d thought he was planning to be there right at noon, and it was twenty after.
She’d been planning to wait to eat until later, but the act of getting lunch ready for Audra had triggered her own appetite.
She was starving. The doorbell rang just as Vic decided she was going to have a bowl of the still-warm soup too.
She left her freshly filled dish on the table.
She opened the door wide, revealing Cal beneath a halo of bright white sun against the brilliant blue winter sky.
“Hi, come on in,” Vic said a little breathlessly. Whatever Cal Anderson was, it wasn’t a wrench monkey.
“Sorry I’m late,” he said, stepping into the porch and setting down his big toolbox. “There was a fender bender in front of me—”
“Oh no! No one was hurt, I hope.”
Cal gave a quick shake of his head and a reassuring smile. “Nope, just a hassle for each driver, no injuries—and traffic got backed up. I couldn’t pull a U-turn either. Too many cops.”
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t. Our place needs some work, but not so desperately that you need to risk a ticket.”
Cold radiated from Cal as he pulled off his boots. She took his coat and shivered.
“Yeah,” he said, noticing. “Temperature’s really dropping. It’s the price we pay to see blue sky.”
“It’s crazy,” Vic said, pulling her wrap cardigan a little tighter. “I was at work this morning and it was overcast. Nothing like this.”
“At least the cold will keep the snow away,” Cal said philosophically and followed her into the kitchen. “Man, it smells good in here.”
“Thanks—you caught me with about the only thing I can cook from scratch. Good soup.”
“Well, a good soup is a good thing.”
“Do you want a bowl?”
Cal hesitated.
“I was just about to have one—and I have nice buns too.” She groaned inwardly. Had she really just said that? Really?
To Cal’s credit, although his eyes crinkled, he merely said mildly, “How can I say no to that offer?”
The primary problem with you, Victoria, is that you’re a shameless flirt. It’s pathetic.
It wasn’t intentional—and oh me oh my, don’t I have a lot of “primary” problems.
Wow, Vic thought. One of my inner voices is getting a backbone? Interesting.
Cal was staring at her. Why? Oh, right!
“Have a seat.” She motioned to a chair across from her bowl. “This one’s mine. I’ll serve you a fresh one. It’ll be hotter.”
Dammit—
Cal was clearly more of a grown-up than she was because he didn’t appear to hear any double entendre in that sentence either.
Thank goodness. And honestly, it was a pretty innocent thing to say.
Why did she fixate on and worry about how every little thing she said or did would be perceived?
It was exhausting. She inhaled. It was fine.
You’re fine, she repeated in her head, but made a mental note to ask ChatGPT its collected thoughts about that question later.
She gave Cal a large orange bowl, laid out his silverware on a cream napkin with a gold pirate ship on it, and put out all seven of the remaining buns on a seashell-shaped plate between them.
Cal grinned down with appreciation. “That is an amazing napkin!”
“Right?”
“From your shop?”
She nodded, taking a mouthful of soup, happy that it was still very warm, almost hot.
“That’s another huge perk to working there, hey? You get first eyes on—so first dibs—on whatever’s new.”
“Yep, a huge perk—and a huge hit to my paychecks.”
“I can imagine.” Cal tucked in too, sighing with contentment after his first two spoonfuls of the hearty soup. Then he looked up, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “You’re a liar though.”
Even though Vic could tell from his body language and demeanor that he was teasing, a worm of apprehension wriggled up her spine.
“Oh?”
“You told me you couldn’t cook.” He grabbed a bun from the plate in front of him.
Vic smiled. “I really don’t cook very many things very well. Like I said, soup is an exception.”
Cal had broken the soft bun in half, and it steamed lightly and gave off a mouth-watering yeasty scent.
Vic made a mental note to take a picture of the bag so she could get these same ones to reheat every time.
He added generous butter and was about to dip into his soup, but paused, bun above the broth.
“Is this okay, or do you think dunking is impolite?”
Vic’s eyes widened in surprise. She didn’t know if she’d ever heard a living, breathing man use the word impolite before, let alone ask her opinion on his manners.
“I think,” she said, picking up her own bun and breaking off a chunk, “that dunking is deeeelicious—and the pinnacle of properness.”
“The pinnacle of properness! Nice.” Cal chuckled and Vic’s stomach lurched, but not with nerves . . . with something she didn’t recognize at first. Then suddenly did. Pleasure! She was being silly, and Cal was finding it—finding her—amusing. Laughing with her. Not down at her.
Dipping pieces in unison, they held them up, eyes meeting.
“Cheers!” Cal said.
“Cheers,” Vic echoed.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then Cal started, mildly panicked. “Shoot, it’s nearly 1:00. Do you need to get back to work? I can tidy our dishes before I tackle that door.”
“No need. I have the afternoon off, so I’m at your disposal.”
“Perfect! I have some real grungy work you can tackle.”
“Ha! Don’t get too used to my expert help—and since we have more time, do you want another bowl?”
Cal stretched, then patted his belly, which was by no means as fat as he pretended. Solid was the word that came to mind. Like Vic was starting to feel also described his personality.
“I’d love another bowl—and then I’ll probably want a nap instead of doing chores.”
An image of Cal stretched out under one of the blankets he’d bought flashed into Vic’s mind.
And then, before she was conscious of what she was doing, she imagined snuggling herself in against his solid frame.
She sighed and popped up from the table to refill their bowls, hoping if he noticed her flush, he’d think it was the temperature of the room or something.
“So do you have Christmas plans?” he asked when she was seated again.
She shook her head. “No, it will just be me and Audra—so a very festive time.”
Cal laughed—then stopped abruptly as if fearing he was being rude.
He shook his head. “I don’t have plans either.
And it’s always so slow this time of year that I shut down from the 22nd until the first Monday after the new year.
No one wants renos done when their house is all decorated and they have tons of company—”
“Small town life! The Second Chance Shop is open on Christmas Eve, but then Madeline shuts her down until, like, the 8th or something of January.”
“Yeah, I should’ve booked a trip to Mexico or something, but I thought I’d be doing something with my sister.”
“Plans fell through?”
“Not really. Just me forgetting the reality of folks with children. She’s heading south to spend the holidays with her kids, which I totally understand. Of course.”
Vic got it. He understood, but now he’d also be alone at Christmas. She kind of envied him. “I can lend you Audra.”
He didn’t curb his laughter this time.
Their second helpings had rapidly disappeared, and Vic pushed her nearly empty bowl away. “I had hoped Michael would come, but—” She broke off, feeling a bit emotional, and just shook her head to indicate it wasn’t going to be a thing.
“He can’t make it,” Cal filled in for her softly.