8. Start Somewhere
8
START SOMEWHERE
T he following Saturday, Charlotte was outside pulling the lawn mower out of the shed.
It had to be done. Her puppy was getting tickled on the belly just walking outside.
She stared the thing down. She had this. She watched enough videos on YouTube on how to start it. Then all you had to do was push it back and forth. Easy.
She checked to see if there was gas in it and thankfully there was so she didn’t have to worry about putting the can in the back of her car and getting it. Yet.
Little steps.
She grabbed the string and yanked.
Nothing. Hmm.
Maybe she had to be more forceful.
She did it again.
It wanted to start. It sounded as if it was just clearing its throat, but that was something.
Third time should be the charm.
Nope. This time it was more like a cough. But getting there.
Three more and it was rumbling to life and had her jumping back.
She did it!
Charlotte was pretty sure she did a little victory hip swirl and then looked around to make sure no one saw it.
There were neighbors across the street and only one on the other side. None on the other side of Foster’s driveway. At least not close by.
She walked up front with the mower to do that first, thankful it wasn’t that big of a piece of land.
She missed a lot of spots but was happy after several more passes that she shouldn’t have had to make if she knew what she was doing. There, the front was done.
By the time she got to the back though, there was smoke coming out of her little mower. She wasn’t even halfway done back here.
She started to run while she did it, hoping if she moved faster she’d finish.
She was out of breath when the thing just started to cough and spit out more smoke, then stopped where it was.
“What the hell?”
Charlotte put her hands on her hips and went to open the top to see if there was gas.
“Don’t!” she heard.
She turned and there was Foster standing in the driveway glaring at her.
“What?”
“Don’t look in there. It’s not the gas. It’s the oil.”
“Oil?” she asked, frowning.
“Yeah,” he said. “I heard the knocking and smelled the smoke at my place. I can’t believe you still kept mowing. Did you think the faster you ran you’d air it out like a fan or something?”
When he said it like that, she felt like more of a fool. Good lord, could she embarrass herself anymore in front of him?
“I just wanted to get it done,” she said. “I thought it was running out of gas.”
“You’re lucky the engine didn’t seize.”
“Why didn’t you want me to open it and look in the gas section?”
“Because everything is overheating in there and the gas could be hot and spit out and burn you,” he said.
He moved past her and opened another cap that she’d missed before. “Is that where oil should be?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Well, poop,” she said. “I was so excited there was gas in it from the previous owners, I just figured it was good to go.”
“They probably took the oil out at the end of the summer.”
She frowned. “I saw a can in the shed that said oil.”
He moved past her into the shed, located the can and brought it out, poured it in, then pushed the mower to the side.
“Let it sit for now. You can try to start it again in a few hours.”
“ If I can get it started again,” she said. “Good thing you didn’t see me doing that.”
“First time?” he asked.
She nodded her head. “It took six tries, but I did it. I’m learning.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere,” he said.
“And you came to save me again,” she said. “I wish I could save you, but it doesn’t seem like you do anything wrong.”
He snorted. “My family would tell you I do a lot wrong.”
“Been there and done that,” she said. “Mainly from my parents. Not Amanda. Though she and I didn’t have a great relationship for years. I’m glad we do now, but she doesn’t live around here. Does your family live around here?”
He seemed to hesitate. “A mixture. Half of us are within an hour or so commute. The other spread out in different states.”
“Amanda lives on Amore Island with her husband and son. She’s having another baby at the end of the month. Not sure why I’m telling you this when you’ve made it very clear you don’t like people or talking.”
It was the tongue and cheek way she said it that had him breaking a tiny little grin.
“I don’t know. Something about you makes me keep coming back when I’d normally run in the other direction.”
She wasn’t sure what to make of that statement, but the fact he was trying to be nice and friendly helped. “I’ve had men say that to me before. That I’m way too high maintenance. And other times, that is what draws them in.”
“They haven’t seen you painting, pulling weeds, burning cookies or smoking up your lawn mower then, have they?”
She burst out laughing to the point she was almost doubled over with it. Then she snorted and covered her face in her hands.
“Why do I do all these stupid things in front of you?”
“Because you’re being yourself?” he asked.
“Maybe. I guess I’m not used to that either and it’s part of me making this change.”
“What change?” he asked.
“Well,” she said. “You don’t like to talk, but you seem to be asking a lot of questions. So I’m going to ask you one. Rather than stand out here and smell this burnt oil, would you like to come in and I can make us some coffee or tea? Or anything you want. I don’t have beer and something tells me you’re a beer drinker, so sorry about that. Maybe next time.”
There was the hesitation again, but he nodded. “Coffee sounds good.”
“Follow me,” she said.
She moved up the deck knowing he was behind her. Marco came to greet her but moved past her and went right to Foster.
“I think your dog likes me,” he said, bending down to pick the puppy up. “He’s growing pretty fast too.”
“He’s a traitor. I think he likes the male bonding. If I brought treats out, he’d come to me, but it’s fine.”
She moved over and pulled out coffee beans and started to grind them.
“You make the good stuff?” he asked.
“I do. Most times. Since I’m working from home, I can. When I was rushing out the door to get to the office, I didn’t have as much time.”
“I grind my own too,” he said.
“Then you must get up at the crack of dawn as early as you go to work,” she said, setting everything to brew.
She moved over and got the jar of treats down for Marco and set them on the table. Foster took one and handed it off.
“Now he’s going to like me even more,” he said.
“Probably,” she said. “You asked about my change. I said it was a long story, but I’ll give you the condensed version.”
“It has to do with a guy,” he said. “Right?”
“Doesn’t everything always come back to a guy?” she asked.
“Not for me,” he said, smirking.
“Then a woman for you,” she said.
“Still not me,” he said.
“Because you’re so open and friendly with people,” she said, laughing.
“I am with you,” he said.
That shut her up.
She grabbed two mugs off the wall where they were hanging, filled their cups and brought his to the table. She took the creamer out of the fridge to add to hers but wasn’t surprised when he passed on it and drank it black.
“You managed to have me lose my train of thought. But it’s back with a hit of caffeine. I seem to date losers.”
“I don’t see where you would attract men with no future.”
She laughed, not a funny sound. “Not those kind of losers. Just the kind of men that want a type and I seem to fit the mold.”
“It’s not a mold I’ve seen,” he said. “Which is fine with me.”
“Let’s say I tend to date older men. Established men who like someone pretty on their arm but don’t listen to what comes out of their mouth to even know it’s intelligent. Though after all my fumbles in front of you, you probably think I’m a ditsy blonde.”
“Not at all,” he said. “I think you’re someone coming into your own, even if it’s later in life. You shouldn’t be knocked down when you keep getting back up and trying.”
She started to sniffle. “Thank you for that. I mean it. Don’t run if I cry. I’m not that kind of a person, but I guess hearing you say that just pushed me to keep going.”
“I’ve got two sisters and a mother. They’d both slap me if I ran when a woman cried.”
“Good,” she said. “The short version is, I date these men and think they are more mature and will be willing to settle down, which is what I want. I just want something I never felt I had. A family of sorts. But they don’t want what I do, and in the end, I’m the one that looks like a fool.”
“I don’t think anyone is as harsh as people are on themselves.”
“You’re right. I believe that. Landon, my ex. He was forty-five. Successful. Had a nice apartment in Tribeca. If you asked me what he did for a living, I couldn’t tell you other than I’m sure he got the job from his father. He liked to flaunt his money around and show me off. He never listened to me. He didn’t always treat me well.”
“Why did you stay?” he asked.
“I obviously didn’t. But he dangled the carrot of the ring. I said I was going to leave a few times. Not because I didn’t get the ring, but because I didn’t like the way he made me feel. He’d change and I’d think there was hope until there wasn’t. The night I left...never mind why or what happened. The point is, I left and had nowhere to go. No landing spot. I got a hotel room and stayed there for a few weeks until I could get into an apartment. Then I decided a change of pace was better once I knew I wasn’t going to lose my job.”
“Why did you think you’d lose your job?” he asked.
“Because the person who hired me was someone I was introduced to at one of the parties I hosted for Landon.”
“And he threatened to get you fired?” he asked. The appalled look on his face just warmed her in a way she’d never felt with a man before. That there were men out there willing to stick up for her.
“He did. But come to find out, my boss thought he was a douche and actually promoted me for leaving Landon. I thought he was joking when he told me.”
Foster laughed. “Good for you.”
“And when that happened, I thought, let’s see what other good could come of this. They told me I could work remotely for this position and I decided to give this a try.”
“What do you do?” he asked.
“I work in marketing for an international corporation. So my hours can vary depending on the projects I’m on. I’m kind of like a consultant for companies that purchase services.”
“Sounds like you’re good at your job to get that kind of responsibility.”
“I am,” she said. “I’ve got my MBA, but it seems men I date don’t even ask what I do let alone my education. So there you go. You’ve seen me at my worst and now you know those things too. Already several steps ahead of anyone I’ve dated in years. Not that this is a date. There I go putting my foot in my mouth.”
“Seems you’re flexible enough to do it often,” he said. “And for some reason, I don’t mind it.”