Nettie pulls the tray back, looking offended. “All right, then. I’ll just leave them here and you can have them when you get hungry.”
“I won’t, but if Colton wants them, he can have ‘em.”
They exchange a questioning look, then Nettie looks back at me. “Are you okay, love? You don’t seem quite like yourself today.”
“You actually don’t know me, Nettie. We’re pretty much strangers and I think it’s best if we keep it that way.” I soften my tone some. “I’m not a people person.”
She gives me a long, hard look, then says, “Okay, then. I’ll go. We’ve got a big pile of dirt at the back of our property. You’re welcome to it if you like. You can just come get it. You don’t need to talk to us or anything awful like that.”
“I’m probably going to leave the planters empty this year. I’m really busy, so I shouldn’t bewasting my timetrying to grow my own vegetables.” She understands the meaning of my words—the vegetables aren’t the only things I consider a waste of time.
Hurt fills her eyes, but she smiles anyway, making me feel like a complete bitch. “All right, Abby. If you change your mind, you know where to find the dirt.” Turning to Colton, she reaches out and gives his arm a little squeeze. “Please say hello to your folks for me.”
“I will.” He nods and smiles at her, demonstrating how grown-ups are supposed to act. “Thanks for the scone. It was delicious.”
I say nothing as Nettie leaves, totally unsure of what to say after having been so awful to her. All she’s done is be completely welcoming since I met her, and yet, I might as well have just told her to fuck off. I quickly get back to the windows even though I know every time I look at this damn greenhouse, I’ll be filled with shame.
An awkward silence hangs in the thick air as we finish the job, neither of us saying a word. When we’re done, I walk around the yard, loading the empty boxes into the wheelbarrow to take to the bin in the front yard. Colton slides on his headphones, picks up his weeding tool, and goes to the far side of the lawn. I go in the house to take a shower, but hear Liam upstairs in my bedroom, whistling away without a care in the world. Must be nice.
My stomach growls and I realize its long past lunchtime. Grabbing my purse off the kitchen counter, I stalk out the front door. Then, I get in my car, start up the engine, and take off, blasting the air conditioning. This forty-year-old needs a big greasy cheeseburger, fries, and a huge-ass chocolate milkshake.
* * *
I return two hours later, cooled off but sick from all the grease I’ve just ingested. I crouch down a little in my seat when I pass by Nettie and Peter’s, which is sort of the adult equivalent of a preschooler closing her eyes so she won’t be seen. My gut churns when I park and look around the yard for Colton’s bike. I’m torn between wanting to see him so I can apologize and hoping I never see him again. His bike is gone, leaving me both relieved and disappointed. It also means my peace-offering of a milkshake and fries won’t be made today. Liam’s truck is gone as well, and I remember he had to leave early for a doctor’s appointment.
I toss the not-so-fast food into the bin, saving myself from making a mistake later on, then go inside. Walt, who is clawing at a felt mouse, looks up at me, then turns back to his job of leaping on top of it with every bit of gusto he’s got. “Go get him, Walt.”
For once, my house is quiet. No pounding, smashing, sawing, sanding, or whistling. I’m finally alone, as I make my way to the fridge for a swig of Pepto Bismol. I should be delighted, but now that I’m standing in my empty kitchen, it feels…empty. I could have used a distraction because now I can’t avoid facing who I was earlier this afternoon. I do not like that woman, not one little bit.
I spot Nettie’s container on the kitchen counter. The scones are gone, and if I had to guess, I’d say Liam brought it inside for me before he left. I fill the sink with some water and soap, then wash it, and force myself to go next door and apologize. When I walk into the pub, it’s quiet. Only two patrons sit at a table in the corner opposite the bar. Nettie is setting up cutlery for the dinner service that will start soon. She looks up and gives me a little nod, but her eyes don’t brighten the way they normally do. Glancing at the container, she says, “You can leave it on the bar.”
I trudge over and set it down just as Peter comes out of the kitchen. His face falls when he sees me, and I know Nettie must have told him what happened. I scratch my forehead, then sigh, wishing the right words would pour out of my mouth right now, but finding myself sorely disappointed. Nettie comes around behind the bar and starts loading her tray again.
“Nettie, I want to—” I start but she raises one hand without looking up.
“No need. You tried to warn me, but I didn’t listen.”
Peter picks up a rag and starts wiping the clean bar top. “We didn’t think you were serious about all that ‘wanting to be left alone’ stuff, but clearly you are so we’ll let you be. You’re always welcome here, but we won’t be stopping by at your place again.”
I close my eyes for a second, regret vibrating through my bones. “I didn’t mean…no, well Ididmean…I was mean.”
They both stop and stare at me.
“I was rude to you earlier and there’s no excuse for it.”
Shaking her head, Nettie says, “No, I get it. You’re busy. I have to stop mothering everybody.” Her voice cracks when she says this, then she turns abruptly and disappears into the kitchen, the door swinging behind her.
Peter closes his eyes for a second, looking pained, and I suddenly have the idea that this isn’t all about their bitchy neighbor.
“Peter, is she okay?
Shaking his head, he says, “Did you ever wonder why we don’t have children?”
“I just assumed you didn’t want any.”
He tilts his head a little, then says, “We did. Very much, especially my dear wife. After four miscarriages—the last one at seven months along—we decided to find a different way to make a home for someone.”
“Shit,” I whisper.
