“We’ll move the cheap stuff, too,” James says with a shrug.
I start out shaking my head and trying to look annoyed but laugh instead. “Is this the thing you do a little of or a lot of?”
“A little. We don’t get many clients up here.”
I rest a fist on my hip. “Why didn’t you just tell me you were the mover?”
“You seemed pretty set on only letting a professional near your stuff, and who am I to argue with the client?”
James extends his hand to me and we shake. “I’m James. I live four blocks that way,” he says, pointing to his left.
And I need to know that, why, exactly?Giving him a polite smile, I say, “Nice to meet you.”
“I hear you’re not interested in Liam, as far as dating goes.”
Pursing my lips together, I glare at him, then turn to Liam, who puts his hands up in surrender. “He didn’t hear that from me.”
“I ran into Gus when he was on his way up to Crocus Bay.”
Two hours later, the U-Haul is empty. Liam finds me standing in the middle of several boxes in the kitchen. “We’re all done, Ms. Carson,” he says, gesturing with a clipboard in his left hand. “I’ll just need you to sign these forms saying everything was unloaded carefully and that neither James nor I damaged any of your priceless things.”
I roll my eyes as I take the clipboard and sign my name. Liam rips off the top sheet and hands it to me. “There’s an online survey you can fill out if you like. It’ll get you ten dollars off at Weagle’s Greenhouse.”
“Good to know, thanks.”
“All right, enjoy your new home, Miss,” Liam says. “And please remember to call W.S. Movers again for all your storage, packing, and moving needs.”
James walks into the kitchen and says, “Well, that’s that then.” He snaps his fingers. “Oh, I almost forgot, I’m heading to Sydney first thing in the morning. I can return your U-Haul for you if you like. Save you a couple hours.”
I shake my head. “No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. Thank you, though. It’s a kind offer.”
“You sure? I’ll be literally a block from the rental place. I gotta go to Canadian Tire.” Looking at Liam, he says, “They’ve got Timberline work boots on clearance. Seventy percent off.”
You don’t say?“I’m good, thanks. I have to head into the city for a bunch of supplies anyway.”
“All right,” James says. “We’ll leave you to it, then.”
I stand, holding Walt in my arms, feeling oddly emotional as I watch them leave. I’m about to spend my first night in my dilapidated old cottage, which suddenly feels like the last thing I want to do.
* * *
It’s nearing seven o’clock as I hurry up the road to Nettie and Peter’s. It was either that or dig through the boxes for some Pop-Tarts. To be honest, I’m also going in search of some liquid backbone for my first night alone in my creepy cottage. When I was turning the water off after my shower, I heard a thumping sound, which led to a quick bathrobe-clad examination of the house. It ended with me standing at the bottom step to the basement with my heart pounding wildly. Although I found no explanation of the loud thump, I did have the awful thought that the dirt floor would be the perfect place to hide a body. Maybe the body of a certain old, single lady who used to live here.
I sprint up the steps to the B&B, only exhaling when I’m safely inside with the door closed behind me. When I walk into the restaurant, I almost want to kiss the wood floor. Never have I been so happy to see a bunch of senior citizens eating pie and drinking coffee.
“Back already?” Peter asks, as I take my usual stool at the bar and set my book down.
“I didn’t have time to get groceries today.”
“Oh, sure. Beer?”
“Please, and some of that lobster bisque if you’ve got it.”
“Coming right up,” he says, rapping his knuckles on the bar.
One hour, two pints, one bowl of bisque, and six homemade biscuits later, Peter walks me home. The moon and the streetlamps (which are far too spread out for my liking) light our way.
“This is really unnecessary,” I say for the third time.
