“Wow, that’s just… shitty,” I mutter as the melancholy of Liam’s story sinks in.
Peter and I are quiet for a few minutes. I’m sure his mind is on Liam’s family, judging by the shift in his demeanor. The corners of his mouth have turned down and his eyebrows furrow together. My mind races as I digest the information. It feels strange to know something so intimate about a stranger—one who seemed utterly carefree just now. I suppose this is how people react when they find out I’m a widow. Sad. A little shocked, maybe. It also occurs to me that there are people who have it much worse than I do. I’ve just met one, and he seems to be surviving.
Chapter Seven
It is far better to be alone than to wish you were.
~ Ann Landers
Well, I have solved the mystery of why it took Gus so damn long to show up. It’s because he feels compelled to regale everyone he meets with his entire life story. Gus is the third of the seven Nickerson boys, of the famous Nickerson clan who settled here on Cape Breton over one-hundred-fifty years ago. He’s been married for twenty-eight years, and it only feels like a century—hardy har har. He and his wife, June, have three children, two of which were accidents—the first attended their wedding as a fetus, and the last one was the cause of him getting the old ‘snip snip,’ which is not necessarily something I need to know about the utilities guy. Oh, and he’ll bare-knuckle fight anyone who says Sidney Crosby isn’t the greatest hockey player who ever lived.
After close to an hour of inane chatter, he finally wanders to the basement to turn whatever dial or switch is required for me to have running water and natural gas. He tests the kitchen sink first and we both stare until it sputters to life.
“Oh perfect. Thanks so much, Gus,” I say, shutting off the tap.
I’m about to say how lovely it was to meet him when he settles himself against the kitchen counter, clearly with no intention to leave just yet. “So, Eunice says you’re from New York City, but you don’t have that accent.”
Shoo. Get out. “I grew up in Portland actually,” I say as I take a few steps toward the front door.
He doesn’t take the hint. “Oh, so you’re a long way from home.”
“Uh-huh.” Please leave now.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He does a sucking-in-air thing while he says yeah. It’s a thing I’ve noticed the people here do when they run out of things to say. Does it mean the conversation is ending? Dear Lord, I hope so.
“This here place has been empty for quite some time. It’s been about three years since I shut everything off. After Violet McMasters had to go into the old folks’ home.” Gus gives me a nod as though we both remember that day well. “She was hoping one of her kids’d take over the house, but you know the young folks. They all move out west to find work.”
The young folks? How old does he think I am?
“Violet’s in a home in Halifax now. Must be going on ninety. Tough old bird. Seen some hard times but always managed to come out okay,” he says. “Actually, you remind me of her in a way.”
“I remind you of a tough old bird?” I ask, raising one eyebrow.
He laughs, pointing one finger at me and nodding. “You’re a feisty one. Liam’s going to have his hands full with you.”
Oh, sweet Jesus, Gus the water guy is getting in on the matchmaking? Time to nip this in the bud. “I’m not sure what you heard…or where, frankly…but I’m really not interested in any sort of romantic entanglement, so whoever is doing the talking, please tell them to stop.”
He tilts his head in confusion. “I meant when he’s doing your house. Didn’t you hire him?”
“Oh, right,” I say, as my cheeks heat up. “That.”
He gives me a thoughtful expression. “Are you a fan of Shakespeare?”
Okay, where is he going with this? “I’m familiar with his work.”
“Me thinks thou doth protest too much,” he says with a chuckle, and the smug air about him irritates the shit out of me.
“Actually, the line is ‘the lady doth protest too much, methinks,’ and trust me on this one, I’m not secretly pining for a boyfriend.”
“I think you’ll change your mind about Liam when you hear he lives on a yacht during the warm months.” Gus lowers and raises his eyebrows. “Eh? He’ll take you on lots of romantic adventures on the sea. What woman wouldn’t want that?”
“This one.”
The sound of a vehicle approaching saves me from whatever Gus was about to say in response, and I’m filled with relief that he’s finally following me to the front door. We step outside in time to see Liam getting out of an ancient red pickup.
I make my way down the three steps leading to the sidewalk and start toward him as he shuts the creaky door.
He nods in our direction. “Hello, Abby. Gus.”
