He turned to look at me. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
What was wrong with me? I rubbed my eyes. They felt gritty with dirt and exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I’m a little tired. Would you like to come in?” I repeated.
He followed me into the kitchen and watched as I got down a mason jar for the flowers. “I’m sorry I just dropped in. I tried to call, but the house phone isn’t working.”
I had it turned off to save a few bucks. “I can give you my cell.” That sounded bad. “Not that I’m asking you to call me.” That sounded worse so I stopped talking and busied myself filling the jar with water.
“I haven’t been in here in a long time,” he mentioned. Iturned and saw him looking at the pile of bills I had placed on the table. He glanced up and met my eyes. “Last time I was here, your grandma was making a cake to celebrate our high school graduation.”
I looked around the kitchen. It hadn’t changed much since then. Just showing a lot more wear and tear, and certainly not as clean as my neat-as-a-pin Nana would have liked. “I remember that cake. She made it lemon flavored.”
He smiled. Whose teeth were that white and straight outside of a magazine? “It was delicious.”
I put the flowers on the table, and straightened up slowly, my hand rubbing the tiredness out of my lower back. “These are beautiful. I’ll bring them up to her later.” I gestured vaguely at the refrigerator. “Would you like something to drink?”
“Please,” he responded. I pulled out the jar of sun tea I had made the day before. “I saw the Eldorado is still in the parking lot at Roy’s,” Luke mentioned. “Are you having it towed somewhere?”
I bit my lip. “Martha—Martha Engstrom at the NGS—her cousin is going to look at it. Maybe he can get it going.”
He took the glass of tea from me. “Thanks. It’s good to have friends like Martha Engstrom. Does she still give out cookies?”
I smiled. “She’s Charlie’s favorite person. Does that answer your question? He comes with me on Saturdays and hangs out while I work. I pretend he wants to be with me, but it’s all about the cookies. And Martha’s son, Frankie. He’s a nice kid.”
“You work at the NGS,” he said slowly.
“Yeah. Why?” I felt my hackles rise, but he shook his head, dismissing it.
“Are you working tonight at Roy’s?” he asked.
“I’m at Roy’s Thursday through Saturday. Only three nights a week.”
“How were you going to get there? Do you have a ride?”
I hesitated. Since I still hadn’t told Tara about my second job, I couldn’t ask her for a ride to the tavern. And I hated to impose.
“I was planning to ride my bike,” I explained. “Or walk.”
Luke stared at me. “Are you crazy? It’s six or seven miles to town from here.”
“We rode in this morning and it was fine.”
“You made your nephew ride all that way? He’s sick!” He was incredulous.
“That’s not so far! I used to ride to town all the time a kid,” I spat back.
“But both ways? Coming home in the dark?” He grimaced. “No way.”
I turned back to the sink and gripped the counter. “It’s fine. Thank you again for the flowers. I’ll tell Cassie you stopped by.”
My eyes felt better as the tears washed the dust out. No reason to get emotional. It was none of his business, anyway. I didn’t even know him—what did he care what I did?
“Emily…” he started.
“Aunt Emmy?” Charlie yelled from the living room, and I heard a voice from upstairs calling, “Em?”
“Thanks for coming,” I said. “I’ll take the flowers to Cassie now.”
Chapter 3
