“The one you’re supposed to be watching.”
Abraham scratches his beard and inspects whatever he found there. “I reckon it’s watching itself. Hasn’t got into trouble, so far.”
“We’ll see about that,” Colonel says disapprovingly. “Ah, lunch!”
He turns away from Abraham and wiggles with joy as Lindy, a harried-looking woman in her forties wearing a cat sweatshirt and leggings, places our food on our table. “Enjoy!” she calls before galloping back into the kitchen.
But I can’t sit down to eat—I’m still holding a parrot backpack and a wad of tea-soaked napkins.
“Are you using your extra seat?” I ask the handsome man with the destroyed tablet. “I need someplace to put this miscreant bird before she ruins someone else’s lunch.”
“I’m meeting a friend, but I think I have something that might work.” He fumbles with his keychain, pulling out a weird little device that looks like brass knuckles and a coat hanger had an awkward child. “It’s a purse hanger,” he tells me, showing me how to hook it on the edge of the table. “If your emotional support cockatoo likes swings.”
When he holds it out, I take it, and soon Doris is indeed dangling happily from the table. I pull a baggie of her favorite nut mix out of my tote bag and give her enough to keep her busy. The guy is still watching us like we’re the best show on TV.
“So why do you have a purse hanger?” I ask, because honestly, he’s the first attractive man I’ve seen in years who wasn’t also in my kindergarten Christmas pageant, and I want to keep riding this high.
“Oh, it’s for all my purses,” he says. “I’ve got at least a dozen. One for every day of the week and an extra big one for Sunday, with a matching hat.”
Just then, his friend shows up—a sharply handsome Latino guy in his early twenties. He gives me a mischievous smile, holds up his phone, and says, “Could you please say that again while I’m recording? The thing about all your purses?”
The first guy bursts out laughing again. “Nothing wrong with a good purse. But to answer your question, my grandmother is terrified of the flu and gave me that thing so I could open doors without touching them. I put it on my keychain so she won’t ask me why I’m not using it. But you can keep it. For your parrot.”
“And what will your grandmother say when she finds out it’s gone?”
He grins, making me feel a little giddy. “I’ll tell her I gave it to a beautiful woman, and she’ll stop trying to set me up with that nice girl from her yoga class.”
I’m about to say something else vaguely flirty, but with the new guy there, we have an audience. Instead, I thank my knight with shining purse hanger and sit, my back to him.
My grilled cheese is delicious, and my attention is captured by the black-and-white photos on the wall, showing the downtown square in times past. Soon Colonel is dabbing at his chin with his napkin, having eaten his sandwich in basically one big gulp like a snake. I’m not done eating, but I’m anxious about having uprooted my entire life to come here, and I’m still a little flustered by talking to the cute guy, so I put the rest of my sandwich in the basket and help bus the table. On the way out, I glance back, but the two men are having an intense discussion, scribbling on a napkin as they eat. I pocket the purse hanger. The cute guy said I could have it, and anyway, if I stick around, maybe I can try to return it some other day.
“So, you certainly had an effect on Hunter Blakely,” Colonel begins once we’re outside, as if he were reading my mind.
“I had to help clean up his tea,” I say innocently, tucking that name away for later.
Colonel raises his eyebrow. “As my granddaughters say, there was definitely tea involved.” He clears his throat. “Well, anyway. If you’re ready to get down to business?”
I can’t wait a moment more to ask all the questions bubbling up about this place, my grandmother’s will, and my future here, but Colonel seems to live on his own schedule.
“Ready as the day I was born.”
He leads me to the corner and across the street, then stops in the middle of the row of storefronts, most of which are closed or abandoned.
“What do you think?” he asks.
The building before us hasn’t been painted recently. It’s not cute like Lindy’s or homey like Marla’s Home Cookin’. The brick is patched and stained, and the big plate-glass window is dirty and mostly blocked by old cardboard cutouts from the movies of my parents’ childhood, sun-bleached and sad. There’s Arnold as the Terminator, Howard the Duck, Morticia Addams, and Darth Vader, all gazing out from within like they’re trapped in a time capsule. When I look up, the second-story windows are all similarly unwashed and covered by ivory-yellow blinds, crooked and bent like someone’s been playing basketball inside. Across the big front window, barely visible unless you’re standing in just the right spot without too much glare, someone has painted, badly, the wordsArcadia Falls Video Emporium,and even more badly, underneath that,& Boiled P-Nut Palace.
“I think this is the last video store on earth, if it’s still open,” I say. “Does this town not have a library? Or decent Wi-Fi? Does the peanut part of the business bring in more customers?”
“The peanut part does do pretty well,” he admits. “But thelibrary is closed for renovation, and plenty of folks around town still rent videos. Time moves slower up here in the mountains. Shall we go inside?”
“Why? Are you hungry for peanuts?”
Colonel grasps my hand as if offering condolences. “No, darlin’. This is what your grandmother left you. This place is all yours. Upstairs and down. And the next three buildings in the row, besides, although I’ll admit they’re in worse condition.”
I gently pull my hand away and take a step back to get a better look. Sensing my disquiet, Doris flaps her wings and squawks, “Oh, lordy.”
There are five storefronts on this side of the square, and I’m standing in front of one of the only two that are open; the other is a candy store with a psychedelic gnome theme on the other corner. Honestly, I kind of wish I’d inherited that instead.
