“I won’t deny I’ve had the best of both worlds.” Marcy waved the waitress over and asked for the menu. “I don’t work nights like you, so I’ve always had lots of opportunity to socialise but at the same time, I had to get up early and work hard every single day. People assume I’m only successful because of my father, and I won’t deny I’ve been lucky because I happen to have the same passion for building as him, but he made me start at the bottom. Before heading up big building projects, I was plastering, doing brickwork, painting and decorating, and I even got my electrician’s certificate. He was adamant I’d have to learn the skills first, so I’d be able to assess the quality of the work.”
“That makes sense. So you’re pretty handy then and can do just about anything, huh?”
“I can do most things, but plumbing is not my forte; I’ve never enjoyed it. And I’m not the best roofer either,” Marcy added. “But I’m good with woodwork, and I love building furniture.”
“Wow. That’s impressive. So, where do you live?” Zoe asked. “I bet you’ve built a palace for yourself with all those exceptional skills.”
Marcy threw her head back and laughed. “I think you’d be surprised to see where I live. I’d invite you over later, but I think that might not be the best move considering our history and the fact that I promised not to flirt with you.”
“No, probably not,” Zoe said. “But I am really curious about where you live now. I bet it’s super-slick.”
“Well, you could come over tomorrow morning for a coffee? I have somewhere to be, but I don’t have to leave until eleven,” Marcy said, handing Zoe her phone so she could enter her number. “Message me if you’re coming and I’ll send you my address. It’s probably safer for me to be alone with you in the daylight.”
“Oh? And why is that?” Zoe asked casually, feeling her cheeks burning from the comment. She only hesitated for a moment before she put her number in. They were already having beers, so what would be the harm in a coffee?
Marcy grinned and studied the menu, avoiding the question. “Let’s get some food, shall we? These beers are going to my head, and I promised you I’d behave.”
25
Marcy’s head hurt when her alarm went off at seven.Why so early?Then she read the note on her alarm.Zoe. 9 am.
“Fuck,” she murmured, remembering last night’s conversation and their flirty message exchange after. Yes, she’d had quite a few beers and getting up earlier than usual didn’t help but the rush she felt at the prospect of Zoe visiting woke her in an instant.
Two hours to get the caravan and herself presentable wasn’t much, so she sat up in bed and glanced around at the damage. Clothes were piled over the chair in her bedroom and a half-empty beer bottle balanced on the edge of her bedside cabinet but other than that, it wasn’t too bad. The kitchen and living area were worse, she suspected, but they wouldn’t go into the bedroom, so she could always throw everything in here. Marcy stretched as she got out of bed and went into her tiny bathroom to find an aspirin in the mirrored cupboard above the sink. Bemusedly, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was sticking out on all sides, and she looked tired but that was nothing a cold shower wouldn’t fix.What am I going to wear?She scolded herself for even worrying about that because she never had before. Whatever she would wear to work would do just fine.Is it fine, though?
Since her caravan was only a temporary accommodation, she’d never bothered updating the interior that hadn’t changed since the early nineties, but now that she’d been in here for two years and was about to have a woman she genuinely liked over, she kind of wished she had. It didn’t matter, she told herself, because the dated décor was all part of the charm. The peach-coloured bathroom suite, the floral sofas, the silly, frilly curtains and the kitchen with hideous purple accents were typical for the caravans in this park. Her outside space looked a tiny bit better, though. She had a large, fancy barbecue, a picnic table with matching benches and a shaded seating area, but there were still a couple of embarrassing items sitting out there and the old, red, faux-leather recliner that had been left behind by the previous tenant was on top of the list. It was so comfortable that she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of it and sat in it every night when she got home. And then there were the garden gnomes, of course, and the little sunflower windmills with smiley faces. They were everywhere and she’d never gone through the effort to remove them either. It was the first time that she actually took everything in and wished she could have Zoe over at her new place instead of here, but it was what it was.
Marcy made herself a coffee, got comfortable in the recliner and scrolled through her messages again. Both having had a couple of drinks by the time they arrived back home, their late-night texting had got a little out of hand.
Zoe:‘Thanks for the address. I’ll see you at nine.’
Marcy:‘Sure thing, cuteness. Looking forward to it.’
Zoe:‘Cuteness? Are you flirting with me?’
Marcy:‘Well, you are cute. Can’t blame me for flirting.’
Zoe:‘You’re pretty cute yourself.’
Marcy:‘You think so? Then maybe you should come over now. I have a lot of cute tricks up my sleeve.’
As the next message had come in more than ten minutes later, she wondered if Zoe had actually considered her proposal.
Zoe:‘No fucking way, Casanova. Not falling for that one again. Goodnight.’
Marcy:‘Goodnight.’
Marcy chuckled to herself, reading them over and over. Yes, she’d started with the playful comments, but Zoe had flirted back. She knew she hadn’t imagined their chemistry last night; it had been there all along, from the moment Zoe had helped her deal with her injured hand. Feeling strangely elated, she finished her coffee and went to work, clearing yesterday’s dishes, the paperwork left in the small dining nook and the old sticky notes stuck on the fridge. Some of them were over a year old, reminding her to get washing powder, or to call someone. Then she had a quick shower, put all her laundry away and ran to the park shop to get some fresh orange juice and pastries.
She was only just back when she heard the gate creak and went outside to greet Zoe.
“Hey there.” Marcy stared at her, totally mesmerised. Zoe wasn’t dressed in her chef whites, and she wasn’t wearing jeans like she’d been wearing last night either. The little navy wrap dress hugged her curves in all the right places and revealed her bare legs from above the knee. “Welcome,” she said, trying not to stare at her cleavage.
“Thanks.” For a while, they both stood there, contemplating whether to hug or kiss each other on both cheeks, until Zoe finally handed her a paper bag, resulting in neither.
“What’s this?”
“Just something I made earlier,” she said shyly. “Almond croissants.”
