6. Chapter 6
Chapter 6
James
T hirty minutes later, I was standing beneath my own shower head, letting the hot water wash away the frustrations of the day, when I heard my phone vibrating on the counter. I reached for the knob and turned off the water, leaning forward to rest my head against my arm on the tiled wall.
As I stood there watching the suds swirl down the drain, I could almost see my career swirling down along with them. Because my time spent in here ruminating had done nothing to prove otherwise.
What the hell was I going to do?
Feeling no less tense than I had when I started my shower, I gave up and opened the door, reaching for the dark green towel I’d left hanging on the nearby hook. After drying off, I stepped over to the sink to check my phone.
GIGI: Are you on your way yet? Dinner’s ready in thirty.
GIGI: Oh, and you should bring a couple of those ciders we had last week.
JAMES: Yes, I’ll be there soon.
Shaking my head, I set down the phone and started drying off. No sense pissing her off by being late again.
Besides, I could use a break from focusing on everything that had me feeling off lately.
Thank God for living in a small town with well-traveled short cuts.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the open parking space behind the cabin, straightening the collar of my blue button-down shirt as I stepped out of the truck, paper bag in hand. I didn’t always make as much of an effort for our dinners, but I figured I should tonight—she deserved to see a better side of me than the one I’d been showing lately.
The door opened in front of me before I could even make a grab for the handle. Then GiGi stepped out, dressed in her typical loose-fitting floral dress, and pulled me in for a hug.
“Well, it’s about time you got your ass over here for dinner, Tater-tot.”
“I figured if I didn’t, I’d be on your shit list forever,” I said as I pulled back, grinning.
“Don’t worry, you’re still at the top,” GiGi laughed, swatting at my arm as she took the bag from my hand, shooing me inside.
“How’s the new faucet sprayer working out?” I asked over my shoulder as I took off my shoes. I was greeted by the aroma of roast chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and string beans coming from the kitchen. After all these years, GiGi— Grandma Georgia actually, but I don’t think I’d ever actually called her by her given name—-knew well enough when I was in a funk. And it never failed that she’d start pulling out my favorite meals.
“Food is mood,” she’d always say, and she wasn’t wrong—as a small boy, there wasn’t much in my world that couldn’t be soothed by my grandmother’s hugs and home cooking.
These days, both still had a way of lifting my spirits—but the problems of her thirty-four-year-old grandson were another matter entirely.
Knowing GiGi though—if there was a meal powerful enough to fix everything that needed fixing in my life, she was likely to find it.
After all, nobody would dispute the fact that Georgia LaMott was a force of nature, and not just in my life. A lifelong resident of Dearing Creek, she was a pillar of the community who’d built herself a salty/sweet reputation—she didn’t take guff from anyone, but she’d also be the first to step in with loving advice or help.
Being raised by such a woman had its advantages—and likely explained a lot. A lesser woman wouldn’t have been able to do it, considering where we’d started together—but GiGi and I, we were kindred spirits.
Deep, excruciating loss was something we both had in common.
“It’s working perfectly, love… Thanks for getting me all set up. Those dishes won’t know what hit ‘em.” She tucked a section of white hair—flowing in its usual loose waves above her shoulders—behind one ear.
I smiled, nodding towards the kitchen. “Roast chicken, huh?” I said, casting her a suspicious glance as I followed her.
“Chicken was on sale this week at Filbert’s,” she said, shrugging. “You have something against chicken?”
I smirked. “You know I don’t.”
“Then stop your belly achin’ and help me set the table.”
An hour later, we sat there together, bellies stuffed and finishing the last of our ciders. GiGi was in the middle of regaling me with the sordid details of her friend Doris’s latest romantic entanglement over in Heartwood, our rival town just to the west.
But my mind was far from Doris, or anything to do with the latest gossip. I had replayed that scene with Denise Kinney over and over in my mind, trying to determine if I’d somehow misled her—though I already knew I hadn’t.
Just another fucking entitled person taking what they wanted—what they believed was theirs, just because of their name or that their bank account had more zeros behind it than any decent person needed. The control somehow always ended up in the hands of the wrong kind of people.
And I was goddamned tired of it.
Being fed up wouldn’t solve anything, though. Because right now, what I needed to focus on was the security of my job at Aaronson Construction.
It was then that I heard my grandmother sigh. “Alright, out with it.”
I glanced over at her across the table, where she sat with her head propped on one hand, staring at me. “What?”
“I’ve been sittin’ here talking about Doris for fifteen solid minutes, and you haven’t once asked me to change the subject.”
“Would it’ve stopped you if I had?”
“Not likely. But blathering on about local gossip has always been my barometer to see if you’re actually paying attention.”
I rolled my eyes. “I was listening. Doris and Hank Ressler have been hooking up on Tuesday nights after bowling league.”
“It’s cute that you think I’m going to let up on this.”
Sighing, I set down the bottle of cider in my hand. “Fine, you win . I had an incident today at work on the Kinney project. Denise… well, she hit on me.”
GiGi didn’t even bat an eye. “Of course she did. That woman always has her eye out for her next bedwarmer.”
“Sometimes, I wish you’d at least try to have a filter.”
“James, dear… don’t be so innocent,” she said, shaking her head in amusement. “Besides, if you would actually take my advice for once and find some nice girl to marry, maybe the cougars in town would start leaving you alone.”
“I already told you, GiGi, it’s not up for discussion. One woman in my life is enough,” I said, crossing my arms in an attempt to look stern. “And besides, you keep me plenty busy.”
“I’ll wear you down eventually, my boy.” She sighed. “Anyway, how’d you respond? And more importantly, does Joe know?”
“He’s been out of town this week… and of course I immediately put a stop to it, told her she was being inappropriate. That it was only professional between us.”
She let out a low whistle. “I bet that didn’t go over well.”
“I wouldn’t know… I left right after,” I said, fidgeting with my fork. “But I have no idea what I’ll be walking into tomorrow. She may try to turn this around on me with Mel.”
“She might. So, what’re you going to do about it?”
“Not much I can do. I don’t see how this ends well, unless she’s embarrassed enough by her own behavior to keep it to herself. Otherwise, she’ll probably report it to Mel or Joe.”
“Probably. Either way, you might be out of a job.”
“Yep.”
“Want me to kick her ass?” Her brown eyes narrowed with determination, and I laughed in spite of myself.
“Not this time. I just… need to figure out what to say to Mel.”
GiGi was quiet for a moment, considering. “Have you thought any more about what we talked about?”
I raised an eyebrow. “What, starting my own business? I don’t know…”
GiGi knew it was pointless to push me into anything. Even still, this had been a persistent topic of conversation at this table for well over a year now—especially during the past few months, while I’d been grumbling about the Kinney project.
We both knew being my own boss—having the autonomy to choose my clients, and the projects I felt passionate about—was everything I wanted.
But I wasn’t na?ve enough to ignore the realities of what came with it. Striking out on my own carried a great deal of risk. And in my case, it was also deeply personal.What if I fucked it all up?
My grandfather was a good man, working hard his entire life for other people. There was no shame in that. So why did I keep feeling like I needed more? Was it pride?
Either way, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face what I needed to in order to make it happen. Maybe I never would be.
GiGi took a sip of her cider before continuing. “You’d be great at it, you know. And I’m not the only one who thinks so.”
Who else had she been talking to about this?
I felt myself tense. “I don’t want to discuss this right now.”
She rested her hand on mine, her eyes solemn. “You can’t run away from it forever, James.”
Moving my hand away, I stood up. “I need to head home. If I want to talk to Mel tomorrow, I better do it first thing.” Before she could respond, I grabbed my dishes and carried them to the sink, feeling her eyes on the back of me as I rinsed them off. She knew well enough by now that when I didn’t want to discuss something, it was best to leave it.
Drying my hands, I paused to kiss her cheek on my way out. “Listen GiGi, I appreciate the advice. I just… can’t right now, ok?”
“It’s ok, Tater-tot,” she said, reaching her hand up to pat my arm. “Good luck tomorrow, ok? And stand up for yourself. Nobody but you gets to choose your outcome.”
“I know. G’night then.”
But as I drove along the roads towards my own home a few minutes later, my mind was stuck back in GiGi’s cabin, the first home I could recall, thinking about what she’d said.
She’d been there for me my whole life, knew me almost better than I knew myself. After my mother—her only child—had died when I was eight years old, and my father bailed shortly after, she and Pops became my whole world. They went through all the hard shit raising me, a broken boy whose whole world had imploded.
And then we lost Pops too, when I was barely eighteen.
It was then that I knew I’d never leave her, never leave Dearing Creek. She and this town had taken me in after I’d lost it all. And going back to where I’d started was something I never even considered. There was nothing left for me there.
But now, all these years later, I wondered if resenting what had been left behind was doing a damn thing—except holding me back.