Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
FOUR HOUSES AWAY
The next morning I find myself outside and I find there’s something wrong with the fence. It’s dragging.
The perfect moment to text Gavin and interrupt his busy morning.
I have no idea if Paige is in the house or not.
Maybe she left when he did.
Maybe they…
I rush back into the house and find a screwdriver.
I’m determined to fix this myself but fail miserably.
When I catch myself holding the screwdriver like a killer in a horror movie, ready to attack the fence, I know it’s time to seek help.
Still not Gavin.
I end up texting Dean.
Not to rescue me, but to merely ask a question.
I pour a fresh cup of coffee and wait outside for Dean to show up.
Noah is in his play area on the back porch, safe, playing with blocks and a couple stuffed dinosaurs.
I watch the fence open and the door almost tip over to the ground.
Dean has to hurry through and spin around to keep it from falling.
He instantly looks back at me and smiles.
“What?” I call out.
“You loosened the wrong hinge.”
“Oh,” I say.
“Fifty-fifty odds. No worries.”
I walk closer to him, watching him work. He talks as though he can sense me coming toward him, teaching me instead of taking completely over. Pointing out screws, hinges, some of it turning in a language I don’t quite understand.
“Just like that, another easy fix,” Dean says.
“Well, this one makes me feel just a little stupid.”
“Claire,” he says. “Never. You’d be surprised at how many things are easier to fix than they look.”
I tilt my head, wondering what exactly he’s saying.
If he’s heard something…
“No cafe today?” Dean asks, pointing to my coffee.
“Coffee is almost just as good at home,” I say.
“I’m sure you’re a pro at it.”
“Yes, the ultimate dream, Dean. Going from running operations to making morning coffee.”
He chuckles. “I hope that didn’t come across offensively.”
“No,” I say. “This is just me trying to be funny. In the morning.” I shrug. “I love the cafe. I really do. Audrey is great. Always willing to work with me…”
I glance back toward Noah.
“That’s a good thing.”
“I didn’t plan it this way,” I end up saying. “You know, leaving my career and all. Once I got pregnant and… never mind. What am I saying right now?”
I let out a laugh that feels and sounds way too fake.
“No going back?” Dean asks.
“No.”
“Well, they lost someone good.”
There’s a simplicity in that statement that makes me smile.
“You’ll have to forgive the way I talk before the caffeine fully works in,” I say. “Also, how rude of me not to offer you a cup of coffee. I’m so sorry.”
“I was already at the cafe this morning,” Dean confesses. “The coffee and the French toast.”
“It’s the cinnamon syrup, right?”
“You know what? It is. I just realized that.”
“That was my idea,” I say. “Audrey uses the thick bread, but I said to put the cinnamon in the syrup too. To make sure that flavor is always there.”
“Proved my point,” Dean says.
“What point?”
“When I say your old company lost someone good. Even if it’s a cafe, there’s still operations to it, right? Seems like you’re still working in your field.”
I take that as a huge compliment.
“And you’re still working in yours,” I say with a nod. “Helping out someone who can’t turn a wrench or screwdriver.”
“You can do both,” he says. “And if you keep it up, I’ll recruit you to help with the block party. Audrey seems to feel as though I’m the only one capable of bringing extension cords. And tables. And a projector screen.”
“Generators?” I ask.
He snaps his fingers. “And those. I’ve got two I’m bringing. But I really don’t mind. I like the block party. Sometimes it’s nice to see the people you’ve been casually waving to. Actually talk to them.”
“Trust me, Audrey has me put to work too,” I say. “She takes this very seriously.”
“Nothing wrong with that. Not everything in life needs to be a monumental moment to be taken seriously.” Dean looks at his phone. “I better get moving along. Or else I will take you up on that offer for coffee.”
I feel my mouth open and then pause.
A wave of guilt hits me, wondering if inviting Dean in for coffee is any better than what Gavin and Paige are doing.
Dean pulls at the fence gate, and it opens nice and smooth.
He looks back at me. “You know, Claire, most people wait for someone else to fix things.”
“I used to,” I call out.
“I don’t think that’s true.”
He closes the gate behind him.
I retreat to the porch and watch him walk away.
There’s no butterflies or a sense of longing.
It’s just… respect.
Once Dean is out of sight, I sip my coffee and shake my head while smiling.
Kind of funny how the fence needed one hinge adjusted.
I wonder how many parts of my life are like that.