I stiffened. It hadnotbeen like that.
Had it?
The server plopped my muffin boxes on the counter. “Here you are, ma’am.”
I could’ve done without getting called ma’am by ateenager in front of Jackie, but I was thankful for the reprieve in the conversation.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t end up with the wrong guy though, isn’t it?” Jackie brushed her long, dark hair off her shoulder. “Enjoy your dessert.”
She sauntered away. The temptation to open one of my boxes and lob a muffin at her head was strong. She’d gotten under my skin years ago, but the problem tonight was that I wasn’t sure who Jackie had meant.
Jonah
I was not people-watching in the hardware store’s parking lot. I was not making extra trips into town because Teller had mentioned Summer was still staying with Mae Bailey and working at Copper Summit. So I wasn’t hoping to catch a glimpse of sunshine-colored hair and flashing amber eyes.
At some point, I should go into the hardware store. I doubted I’d see Summer there, but there was a chance. A possibility she’d run an errand for Mae or for the ranch. She might’ve sat around my place, but she wouldn’t sit still at her mother’s house. She wouldn’t be content to watch her brothers and their hired guys do all the work.
I got out of my pickup. It was the end of February and cold air stabbed through my sweater, but I left my coat in the cab and pulled out my cane. With a new delivery of empty barrels came some more work as I moved them around my shop. After shoveling last week, my entire leg was on fire, and I was a month overdue fora session with my massage therapist. Icy parking lots and bum legs didn’t go well together, so today was a cane day.
I picked my footing until I got inside. I needed brackets and small screws and nails for a few tables. I had a special order of custom metal for the decorative features of two end tables and a coffee table I was making. The owners of Kenwood’s Hardware Store also stocked some epoxy and coloring for me.
“Hey, Dunn.” Macy Kenwood, one of the owners, greeted me. She adjusted a red apron with giant pockets around her neck. “I’ll run and get your order. You doing more shopping?”
“Yeah, I have a few things to grab.”
She rushed toward the back of the store.
Macy and Buddy, her husband, loved my business, and I appreciated their nothing-but-the-facts approach to visiting. We talked about our respective fields and that was it. They didn’t pry, and best of all, once I’d started woodworking, I didn’t catch them staring at me with morbid fascination or eyes full of sympathy.
And people wondered why I didn’t venture into town much after the accident.
Their looks weren’t the only reason.
I gathered extra epoxy, sanding paper, and a new blade for my table saw. Along with the new Copper Summit barrels a day ago, I’d been given some planks of wood for custom orders. The local weather station was forecasting a storm next week and I didn’t want to be caught without enough supplies. If my internet went out, I’d be stuck with my generator and books.
It’d happened enough that even a recluse like me got bored silly.
“I’ll getcha over here.” Macy waved me to an opentill. She and Buddy handled me themselves after one of their young cashiers wouldn’t quit gawking at my scar. I wasn’t self-conscious about it like I used to be, and not in the way most people assumed, but Macy had noticed and intervened. “I saw your last piece at Mountain Perks. You do such good work, but I think you’re undercharging.”
The barrel barstools she was talking about hadn’t been my last work. Since I’d finished those stools, I’d also shipped two tables and a pair of decorative chairs with the backs made out of oak barrels. “I price down the local pieces. People who special order a custom epoxy table from a guy in the middle of Montana and have it shipped to Boston can afford a little more.”
She chortled. “Be careful with that info. I might start thinking you’re a softie,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“I need to swear you to secrecy, or I’m going to start getting trick-or-treaters.”
“Can’t have that.” She chuckled as she finished ringing up my order.
Her teasing was another reason I’d made an extra trip today. I was used to being on my own, but the days could get long, and lately, they’d been longer. Winter still had a hold on the state, and if a storm was coming, I needed to socialize before getting snowed in again. I’d learned the hard way that being left in my head for weeks on end wasn’t good for me.
“If you can’t make it in,” she said, “just shoot me a message or email if you need another order.”
I preferred to order face-to-face. Mostly to keep myself from becoming feral. “Will do.”
I put my can in the cart and wheeled it through the parking lot. The smell of greasy burgers teased my noseand my stomach growled. I didn’t eat as fully or regularly as when Summer had stayed with me, and since she’d left I’d had little more than scrambled eggs. My shop had been my refuge. A place where I didn’t look around and see her.
Across the table when I ate, there was nothing but emptiness. I hadn’t canceled a single streaming service subscription. And the smell of strawberries grew fainter each day she was gone.
She was my brother’s goddamn girlfriend. But the reminder failed to wipe her from my mind like it used to. A nineteen-year-old Summer was a pale replica of the woman she’d grown into. A nineteen-year-old Summer was the past.
