Chapter 7
7
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I’d woken to find Chloe’s side of the bed empty, a note on her pillow. “Hey there, sleepyhead. I had to get to work but you looked like you needed the sleep. Feel free to help yourself to coffee. Sorry there’s not much breakfast food—I usually eat mine at work. I enjoyed last night. Need to do it again. Soon.”
I wanted to call her right away, to make plans to drive to Peterborough and visit my sister’s tea shop. Would calling her so quickly appear too needy? Plus, it meant I’d have to introduce her to Joy. Who would inform everyone in my family who I was dating. I liked the idea of getting to know Chloe before springing my family on her.
With that thought in mind, I logged into the family chat again, said the date had gone well, and I wanted to ask her for a second date, but how long should I wait? I didn’t mention Chloe or Pemberley’s Parlour.
Shelly replied first, recommending I wait a day before contacting my mystery woman. Cynthia recommended a week. Joy initially said not to wait but to ask her that morning, then she saw Shelly’s texts and backed off. Which was typical for my sisters.
In the end I took Shelly’s advice and held off until the next day to text Chloe about wanting to see her again. She’d texted me back a half hour later and agreed to a second date for the following Saturday evening since she had a family obligation during the day. Which relieved me because it meant I could put off the high tea and introducing her to Joy.
Everyone I’d met the rest of the day had asked me why I was smiling. I could hardly tell them I’d had the best sex of my life. Or that I thought I’d met the one . It was only our first date and there was no reason to open myself up to mockery.
Saturday night I’d driven Chloe over to Peterborough, where we’d had dinner at one of the classier restaurants overlooking the Otonabee river. Like the first night, we’d ended up back at her place. Once again, I couldn’t stop smiling all the next day, prompting a grumbled comment from John, and more than a few pointed jokes from other team members.
The third date, last night, we’d met after work and wandered along Port Paxton’s main street, then stopped off at the piano bar. Over several beers and a plate of shared appetizers, I’d been surprised to learn Chloe hated working outside because she’d spent her summers pruning trees on her grandfather’s Christmas tree farm, spent her Decembers freezing at the barn where he sold them, and in between cleaning cottages or mowing lawns for her father’s clients on the summer weekends. In the eleventh grade, she’d made a pledge to herself that she’d choose a career that let her work inside with heating and air conditioning. And that she’d spent four years at a university in southwestern Ontario studying business management.
Marilyn had already told me some of the basics of Chloe’s life when she was matchmaking—I wondered what she’d told Chloe about me—but I celebrated that Chloe was finally opening up to me, trusting me.
Though I’d love to see her every day, I was relieved that John had hired someone else for the Prunery, and I wouldn’t have to recommend Chloe for the position. She deserved better. Unless Molly was willing to quit being office manager and handed the reins over to Chloe. Which wasn’t about to happen, from the latest grumbles by John.
When the bar rang their last call bell, Chloe asked to see my apartment. We walked hand in hand along the nearly empty main street, stopped for a few kisses in the shadows of the side streets. Luckily, my apartment was in the upstairs of the newly renovated coach house behind a big Victorian where my friends Ellie and Malcolm lived. Their lights were out, so no one could spy on us when I’d taken Chloe standing up against my front door. Her idea, by the way, but I wasn’t about to turn down that invitation.
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Sweat dripped down my face, stinging my eyes as I maneuvered to a different spot on an ancient oak. I cursed under my breath when I noticed the new hire John had set on me two days ago had let go over the line and wandered away to light up a smoke.
“Kegan, get over here and grab that line. I’m about to cut this branch. If you don’t hold onto it, it could end up going through Mrs. Jones’ patio doors.
“I’m having a fuckin’ smoke, man. Give me a fucking break.” He continued with a stream of profanity that carried clear across town.
Aware of the client standing in her open kitchen window hearing the exchange, I lowered myself to the ground and stomped over to Kegan.
I kept my voice low so Mrs. Jones couldn’t hear. “You’re still learning the ropes here. Literally. Part of the job is how to behave in front of a client who happens to be watching us through her open window and can hear every word you’re using. Now do your job, or you’re done here.”
“You can’t fire me. You’re already shorthanded. You need me,” Kegan sneered.
“Don’t forget, your school sends us a report to fill out as to your behaviour on the job site. You’re gonna get a failing grade if you keep this up and then not only are you out of a job, but you’ll be kicked out of the program. Will your parents be happy to learn that you’ve flushed all the money they’ve invested in your education into the shitter two weeks into your first on-the-job semester?”
That earned me a two-handed middle finger salute along with a “Fuck. You” as he stomped toward the edge of the house on the driveway side. I was about to go after him but the newbie ran into John, who held up a hand.
“Don’t bother coming back. As Brad said, your behavior will be reported to your school. As for your employment here? You’re fired. Effective immediately.”
“Fuck you and the horse you rode in on too, you asswipe.”
We waited as he walked to the company truck, then realized that meant he’d have to ask one of us to drive him back to the work yard where he’d left his motorcycle. Flipping us both the bird again, he stomped up to the road and walked toward the highway, which was a mile away.
John heaved a sigh. “Guess I need to contact the school and see if they have any other students still looking for a job.”
Which meant he’d get Molly to phone the school for new candidates and take whoever they offered. We didn't have to pay the in-school trainees as much as a regular groundsman.
“What brought you by?” I asked.
“Mrs. Jones called me to complain. Mainly about Junior’s language, but her complaints were valid enough I figured it warranted a trip out here to see for myself.”
Shit. “Did she complain about me too?”
I’d been careful about not dropping any f-bombs, but who knew what else Mrs. Jones might complain about. I couldn’t deny if she had any concerns. She would probably be right. Not only did Junior have the potty mouth of a sailor, but even after I’d spent hours training him, he’d fucked up by mishandling the lines and potentially put her property, and my life, in jeopardy.
Boss held up his hand. “She didn’t complain about your language, which Molly was relieved to hear since they’re in the same women’s group at church.”
“Then what was her issue with me?” Why else would John still be on about it?
“She doesn’t believe you can get all this cleared up in time for her to host her grandson’s birthday party tomorrow afternoon.”
I opened my mouth to say something.
My team was down to me alone. I’d have no one to handle the lines from the ground. I glanced around the yard, stopping at the stack of branches and trunks still to be cut into size or tossed into the wood chipper.
F. M. L.
“I’ll get it done so she doesn’t have worry about cancelling tomorrow’s party. Even if I have to work until midnight. I promise.” It meant I’d have to cancel tonight’s date with Chloe, but she’d understand. I hoped.
My phone chimed and I automatically checked it. Mrs. B reminding me I’d promised to go over and cut her lawn after work. Making a mental promise that I’d phone her as soon as the boss left, I shoved my phone back in my pocket.
“I also got a call from Mr. Sinipoli thanking me for all the work you did over at his father’s place yesterday. Molly took one yesterday from Mrs. Preston over in Lakeview asking if you could do her lawn the way you did her neighbor’s last week. And from Mrs. Wallace thanking you for rescuing her cat from the top of her poplar. Again.” Boss folded his arms across his chest. “Son, it’s nice you to want to help people, but you’re wearing yourself ragged.”
“I’m not doing it on company time.” What the heck did John want? “And I’m not using company equipment.”
“Good to hear, but this job requires you to be well rested. Mentally and physically. It’s too easy to fuck things up. Once you hit forty, you’ll discover muscles you relied on are gonna hurt a heckuva lot more than they did when you were thirty.”
Shit on a shingle. John was more supervisor than climber these days because he’d pushed himself too hard and ended up breaking his leg in four places and had so many pins now, he set off metal detectors. His shoulders weren’t in much better shape.
“I’ve got a few years yet until I get to the big four-oh,” I grumbled. “I’m not the one whose wife keeps nagging him to retire.”
“If you’re still single when you’re my age, you’ll wish you had someone who worried about you the way my Molly worries about me. It’s too easy to fall into the mindset that we have to do all the things. Be all the things. Sometimes it means you’re setting yourself up for failure. Learn to give yourself a break too, son. Take a day off. Go out on the water and do nothing. Hell, park a chair by the side of the lake, close your eyes and take a break. You look like you’ve not had a good night’s sleep in too long.”
It was true, but I wasn’t about to admit that I was losing sleep having the best sex of my life with a beautiful woman I had fallen for. Hard.
John glanced at the branches and the half-finished tree I’d been felling and blew out a breath. “Guess I’m your groundsman today. Now let’s get this job finished and make Mrs. Jones happy so she won’t balk at paying the bill I’m going to be sending her.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “This is on the clock, right? You’re not doing this as a favor to her?”
“It’s on company time and I’ve already forwarded the signed agreement, to Molly.”
We’d nearly finished the job when John asked, “How’s your business proposal coming?”
“I’m working on it still. I’ve even hired Ellie Mason to help me write it but I need more data from you. She says these things generally take months to prepare, so don’t expect to give me a week’s notice, okay?”