Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Garrett rolled his shoulder muscles to get out the kinks that he inevitably got whenever he did a fiddly job like the one that he’d done today, when he’d re-cemented a bunch of Mrs. Long’s patio pavers.
It wasn’t the lifting that got to him, usually.
He was pretty strong, if he did say so himself, and he knew how to protect his back when heaving heavy objects to and fro.
It was the bending. His back had, around aged thirty-five, taken up a fairly strong anti-bending stance.
Now that Garrett was properly in his forties, his shoulders had taken up the cause.
Anything that involved bending, hunching, or craning, and his back, neck, and shoulders would protest for days.
Part of him was tempted, as he got into his truck, to just head home.
It was just past four in the afternoon, which meant it wasn’t really worth going back to open the store today.
Nearly all of his customers came in the mornings, as they were very often retired people who had taken up building in their spare time.
Anybody who needed something in an emergency knew how to get a hold of him… not that this ever transpired.
Even so, he thought of his empty fridge and bare cupboard shelves. If he went directly home and got into the hot shower he was so keenly craving, he would end up being furious with himself in about an hour, when he had to leave the house again so that he had something to eat.
He groaned as he turned his truck toward Country Corner Market. Man, being responsible and reasonable and smart was the worst sometimes.
He repeated this thought to himself several minutes later when he looked up from the grocery list that he kept on his phone just in the nick of time to stop a large bag of flour from crashing down atop his head.
He caught the bag in one arm, the little puff of white powder that escaped out the top tickling his nose.
“What the heck?” he growled. This kind of carelessness was not at all like the proprietors of Country Corner Market.
“Oh, no,” said a low voice.
Wait a minute. He knew that voice.
He peered around the end of the shelf and saw the woman from Piedmont Street, Eleanor, looking back at him sheepishly.
“Hi,” she said, cringing, face flushed bright pink with embarrassment.
“I am so sorry. I was trying to reach that case of sparkling water up there.” She pointed.
“And I couldn’t grab the handle and I kind of lost my balance and I think it pushed the flour through to the other side. I’m really, really sorry.”
She spoke quickly, a bit breathlessly.
Garrett reached up, grabbed the case of water she’d indicated with one hand, and laid it on the floor. Eleanor watched all of this without comment.
“Now that I’ve done that,” he said, tone coming out flatter that he’d intended it to, “are you going to keep trying to kill me every time you see me?”
Her eyes went wide and her cheeks flushed an even deeper pink. Garrett had to banish the word cute from his vocabulary.
“Okay, I really am sorry for that, too,” she said, face twisted apologetically.
“I… I was going to come by and apologize, check in that you were okay. Well, I hadn’t decided yet if I was going to actually do it, but I definitely knew that I should.
Except then I didn’t know if you wanted to see me, so I didn’t want to intrude, to, you know, add insult to injury or whatever.
But I obviously made that decision not knowing I was almost going to crack you over the head again—”
“It's fine,” he said, cutting her off. Yes, her flustered attitude was adorable, but she was going to pass out if she didn’t pause to take a breath.
Fortunately, his interruption made her do just that. She inhaled slowly, paused, and then exhaled. The blush faded, which was less fortunate, in Garrett’s opinion.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “You’re sure.”
“Yes,” he said. Then, more as a reminder to himself about why he ought to keep his distance from this woman, he added, “But maybe let your husband take care of some of the odd jobs, huh? Just to avoid any further accidents.”
Garrett knew this hadn’t been the kindest response, but he was surprised by the way Eleanor’s face became suddenly tense, her lips pressed together until they went white with the pressure. He very quickly discovered that he did not care for this look on her. He missed the blushing.
“Well.” She cleared her throat rapidly. “As of about, oh, forty-eight hours ago, I am officially divorced, so that seems very unlikely to happen, I’m afraid.”
Garrett wished he could go back in time and let the flour brain him. Surely that would have been less uncomfortable that this very, very awkward silence.
“I, uh…” This time, he was the one who cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry to hear that.”
She sighed.
“I’m not,” she said. “Not really. It was… the right move. But it does mean that you’re probably right about one thing.”
This might have been a good moment to say something else, but Garrett didn’t trust his mouth to not say something that would make this terrible situation worse.
Eleanor had mercy on him, mercy that he probably didn’t deserve.
‘Anyway, I’ll look into hiring that professional to get some of the jobs done,” she said, giving him a smile that he definitely didn’t deserve… and that didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was a polite smile.
Garrett, who had become the town curmudgeon instead of being polite in an attempt to make other people feel comfortable, did not know what to say.
“Okay,” he said, then immediately felt like a total dope.
“Okay,” she said. “Well, I’ll see you around.”
She gave him another polite half smile as she headed on her way. Garrett paused before continuing his own shopping. He tried to ignore the foolish little flicker of hope that she’d been right about her parting words too, and that he would, in fact, see her around.