Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
“Oh, hey, Garrett,” called Sam, the young guy working at the host’s station slash to-go counter at Anchor Bistro. “Your food will be right up.”
Garrett wondered if the speed with which Sam recognized him meant he ate here too much. He ignored the thought. Anchor Bistro made a Reuben that was too good to pass up. He leaned back against the wall, listening to the soothing sound of a griddle hissing, while he waited for his order.
Garrett heard the door open behind him, and Sam looked up again.
“Hi, June,” Sam said. “Like I just told Garrett, orders are going to be up in a minute.”
“Sure thing,” June Caldwell said just as Garrett turned to face her. “Hey, Garrett.”
“Hey, June. How’s it going?” Garrett asked.
June was pretty in a young way that made Garrett feel old for thinking this woman, a mother and a widow, was young.
He supposed, however, that this was what came from knowing someone for a long time.
Although the distance between early thirties and early forties wasn’t too massive, Garrett had known June when he was thirty and she was only eighteen or nineteen.
That separation had been immense, and he’d never been able shake the part of him that made him think of June as a nice kid.
She wasn’t looking particularly young at the moment, in fairness.
She was wearing the plastic apron thing with the big pockets that he knew she wore when she cleaned houses.
A pair of rubber gloves still hung out of one of those pockets, as if she’d forgotten they were there.
She looked a bit weary, but that wasn’t uncommon these days. Losing her husband had hit her hard.
June was resilient, though. That much was obvious to anyone who met her. And she would do anything for her son, Benjamin.
June shrugged one tired shoulder. “Same old, mostly,” she said. “People are starting to think about cleaning rental properties ahead of tourist season, so that’s good in that it’s work, bad in that it mostly means a drive.”
One thing for which Garrett felt unquestioned gratitude for Magnolia Shore was the relative dearth of short-term rentals within town limits.
They saw a rush of people when weather got good in the summer, it was true, but it wasn’t like some of the other towns up and down the Eastern Seaboard, which were practically overrun once beach weather hit.
Garrett was not a fan of strangers. Or familiar people, a lot of the time, but especially strangers.
What was a blessing for him, however, was a weight on June, since she had to drive further for the much-needed work.
“That’s rough, kid,” he said, clapping her briefly on the shoulder.
June, however, shook her head and smiled. While Garrett supposed he found her sunny attitude commendable… he did not understand her determination to remain cheerful.
“It is what it is,” she said. “But it’s not all bad.
I just met Eleanor, the woman who moved into that house on Piedmont Street, and she’s lovely!
Making a new friend was a good reminder of the nice things in life, and I think she’s going to be a great addition to our community.
She fit in perfectly when Diana had her over to dinner with a group of us.
She didn’t even bat an eye when Miriam was being her Miriam-est,” she added with a chuckle.
Even Garrett had to laugh at that. Miriam Landers was a character, that was for sure.
“I noticed that big house had finally sold,” he said. “I guess this Eleanor person moved in there with her family.”
June pressed her lips together and shook her head. “Not to seem like a gossip, but no. It’s just Eleanor. I guess she’s going through a divorce and her son is grown, off at college. So she moved here herself, which I find just so brave.”
Garrett thought back to the cheerfully defiant woman who had come into his store, and her insistence that she was going to fix a sink and a shelf.
“There’s a lot in that house that’s going to need doing,” he said.
June wobbled her head from side to side, like she was considering.
“I cleaned up in there before Eleanor came in as the new buyer, and I think it has some serious potential,” she said.
“The space is gorgeous, and there’s lots of natural light.
I didn’t ask specifically or anything, but I don’t think Eleanor would have bought it if it didn’t pass inspection, so I bet most of the stuff that needs doing is cosmetic. I’m confident she can figure it out.”
Garrett barked out a short laugh. “In another life, you’re a real estate agent, June Caldwell,” he said. “That’s sure a nice spin you put on things.”
June gave a playful pretend curtsey. “Happy to help,” she said.
Just then, his and June’s orders both came up, so they approached Sam and paid for their meals.
As they crossed the parking lot, they each shot one another a quick wave farewell.
Garrett put the food on the floor of the front seat of his truck and pulled out of his parking space. At the edge of the lot, he hesitated.
From Anchor Bistro, he had two ways to get home. If he went left, he might shave off a minute or two. There were fewer stoplights on that route. If he went right, however, he’d pass Piedmont Street…
He went right.
It was likely fine, he told himself. He didn’t know this woman’s life.
Maybe she had a friend who was a contractor who was helping her out.
Maybe she was just nervous around new people and was actually a highly competent builder in her own right.
He shouldn’t think that he had to poke his nose in just because he found out that the pretty, interesting woman didn’t have a husband.
This was the twenty-first century. He knew women could be just as handy as men. And the other reason for his curiosity, that he had found her attractive…
Well, that wasn’t an option for him. He didn’t engage with strangers, especially not strange women. Especially not attractive strange women.
And yet, when he came to the corner of Piedmont Street and saw the light spilling out from multiple windows, he pulled over briefly.
And when he rolled down the window and heard an unmistakably frustrated yell of, “Oh, drat, you stupid thing! Don’t you even think about—no!
” he got out of the car and crossed the lawn.
The front door was open, presumably to let in the pleasant spring air. Through the screen door, he could hear clanging and muttering.
Turn back, he told himself. There’s still time. Go before your sandwich gets cold.
He craned his neck and saw legs sticking out from under the kitchen sink.
“Hello?” he called gently.
Thunk. “Ow!”
Oh no, had he startled her into striking her head? This was officially the point where Garrett beat a hasty retreat… or would that be too rude, even for him? His hesitation cost him. While he was deliberating, Eleanor came out from under the sink, looking flustered but otherwise unharmed.
“Oh,” she said. “Hello.”
He was caught.
“I, uh…” She trailed off, scrambling to her feet. She was wearing that kind of athletic wear that women seemed to use more for errands and such than for actually going to the gym, not that Garrett knew much about either women or gyms. His exercise mostly came from hauling stuff around his store.
Eleanor patted down her auburn hair, which didn’t really help the mess, but seemed to help her collect herself.
“Hi,” she said on a slow exhale. “You surprised me. You’re… the hardware store guy, right?”
“I am,” he said. “Garrett.”
She pointed to herself. “Eleanor.”
I know. It was on the tip of his tongue before he could stop himself.
Showing up outside this woman’s door one random evening was one thing, making it sound like he’d been asking about her was something else entirely.
He might be okay with his reputation as the town grump, but he didn’t want to cross straight over into villain territory, and freaking out the newcomer definitely fell into the latter territory.
“Hi,” he said, scrambling for something else to say. This had been a colossal mistake. He would remember this any time he ever decided to get curious again. “You’re, uh, having trouble with that sink?”
He jerked his chin at the offending appliance. Eleanor’s cheeks pinkened, and he decided not to notice that it was a good look on her… nor that the color of the flush exactly matched the color of her toenail polish, which he also did not notice.
“It’s under control,” she said frostily.
This was it. This was his reason to leave. Okay, then, bye. That’s what he should say. If he was fast, his sandwich might even still be hot.
Instead, his traitorous mouth said, “The whole back of your shirt is wet. That sink is still leaking.”
Eleanor looked almost shocked as she glanced over her shoulder at the back of her sky blue top, as if she hadn’t even noticed the large wet spot, given all her other frustrations. He saw her shoulders slump.
“It can do more damage than good if you keep messing with it,” he cajoled, wondering why on earth he was doing this. “You don’t want to end up with two things broken instead of one, do you?”
Why was he doing this?
But he was doing it, and he did, in fact, feel a jolt of happiness when she said, “Oh fine.” The curmudgeon in him could even appreciate the ill temper with which she agreed. He started to open the screen door but froze when she held up a hand.
“Wait a minute,” she said. “What am I thinking? You’re a stranger. How did you even end up here?”
Despite himself, he chuckled. “You from the city?”
“Indianapolis… so, I guess so.”
“Well, we’re not the tiniest town around, but you’re going to learn that six thousand people… it’s not a lot. All of which is to say, I saw June Caldwell earlier and she mentioned you moving in here, which she learned after having dinner with you over at Diana Madsen’s place.”
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, but she was beginning to look convinced.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “That does sound credible. What’s your full name?”
“Uh, Garrett Wilder?”
She pulled out her phone and quickly typed into it. Just as quickly, it chimed with a response.
“Okay, Cadence says you’re not a serial killer who tricks new arrivals in town by offering to fix their sinks as a trick to drag them into your evil lair.”
Garrett felt his eyes go wide. Goodness, did he seem like a villain? That was… upsettingly specific.
“You asked Cadence Meadows if I was a serial killer?” he asked, aghast.
For the first time since he’d interrupted her, Eleanor smiled. It made her hazel eyes bright.
“Okay, not really,” she admitted. “I just asked if you were okay, and she said you were. Sorry. I’ve been reading too many thrillers recently. My imagination got away from me. But you can come in, I guess.”
Garrett didn’t know precisely what to make of this woman, with her low, self-deprecating laughter, the way her hands fluttered when she talked, or the fact that, in the last several minutes, he had spoken to her more than he spoke to most people in a month.
So he turned to the thing he did know: how to fix a sink.
He didn’t respond to Eleanor’s comment about her reading habits and how they may or may not affect his menacing aspect. Instead, he reached for a spare rag he saw hanging off the oven handle and cleaned up the worst of the water before sticking his own head underneath the sink.
He saw the problem immediately.
“Oh, it’s your supply valve leaking,” he said. “Let me guess, you thought it was the drain leaking? Common mistake. Hand me that wrench,” he said, pointing.
Eleanor did, although she grumbled something that sounded a lot like know it all under her breath.
It was playful rather than unkind, but Garrett still stiffened.
He didn’t want to establish a playful rapport with this woman…
or with anyone else. It took him only a few quick motions to fix the sink.
“Turn on the water to check,” he told Eleanor gruffly. From his spot under the sink, he could see how she had to push up on those pink-painted toes to reach the faucet without stepping on him.
The sound of water hitting metal rang out as she turned the faucet on, let it run for a moment, then turned it back off again. He checked around the valve for any dampness but found none.
“All good,” he said. He needed to get out of here, needed to get back home to his quiet house where things weren’t broken, where he could eat his sandwich in peace and not be caught up noticing things about pretty women.
That would be easy at home, as there were no women to be found, pretty or otherwise. Just how he liked it.
When he emerged from under the sink, Eleanor was looking rueful.
“Thanks,” she said.
He grunted.
Her look got a little defensive. “I’m sure I would have figured it out sooner or later,” she said, crossing her arms mulishly. “I fixed that shelf after all.”
It was like something out of a farce, or almost as if the shelf was waiting for her to speak, for the moment Eleanor jabbed a finger at the shelf, one of the moorings came loose and the unit fell, whacking Garrett slightly on the head and quite strongly on the shoulder.
Eleanor’s hands flew to her mouth as he bit back a variety of unsavory words.
“Oh my…” she said, eyes wide. “I am… I am so sorry. Oh my goodness. I’m so sorry! I really thought I had put it in correctly, and it’s been up there all day, so I didn’t think it would be at risk of falling, and—”
“Hire a professional,” he said, cutting her off. His head was an annoyance, his shoulder throbbed, and he didn’t want to care about what this woman did or didn’t do in her house. If the thing fell down about her ears? Well, that wasn’t Garrett’s problem, not a bit.
He supposed it was professional pride that urged him to give this last piece of advice.
“Get somebody out here to help you,” he said, striding toward the door, ignoring Eleanor’s aghast expression. “That way, you know you won’t get yourself—or someone else—killed.”
He let the screen door swing shut behind him with a punctuating slam.