“It was a squirrel,” I say for the tenth time. “Not a bear.”
“Squirrels carry diseases.”
“Says the guy who coaxed it with his hands.”
“I was wearing gloves.” Patton’s mouth twitches again.
We somehow manage to finish the form and Patton files it.
I rush into discussing the Fireman’s Ball planning meeting, when Austin pokes his head in again, “Great teamwork, you two. Looks like you do know how to work together after all.”
I’m about to protest when Patton says, “Speaking of, I have real work to do.”
“So do I,” I counter as if he were suggesting I just lounge lazily in my office all day eating chocolate.
I dismiss myself and walk right across the hall to my desk. The first thing I notice is his jacket on my chair. But he’s already gone, and I’m left with his cedar and woodsmoke scent filling my space.
That evening,I’m curled up on Grandma’s couch when she brings me a mug. “It’s a special acorn tea.”
My shoulders drop. “You’re in on this, too, huh?”
The squirrel incident is all anyone could talk about around town today.
“Judy called. Then Margaret. Then the mayor.”
“Of course they did.”
“They all said the same thing.”
“That Gus the squirrel humiliated me? Let me be clear, that animal was out for blood.”
She titters. “More like that firefighter only had eyes for you.”
I squawk a laugh. “Hardly. The man cannot stand me. He thinks I’m a nuisance, helpless, and too stupid to be alive.”
She stitches a square on her quilt in progress. “Are you sure about that? He jumped your car last week.”
I pull a throw pillow over my face and mumble, “I hate him.” But no sooner are the words out, I know they’re a lie.
“I find that hard to believe.” Of course, she’s right.
I peek out from behind the pillow. “He’s infuriating, Grandma. He cancels meetings. He barely talks. When he does open his mouth, it’s to point out everything I’m doing wrong.”
“But he shows up when you need help.”
“That’s just a coincidence.”
“Is it?” She sets down her quilting project, looking at me with those sharp, small town eyes that never miss a thing. “When was the last time someone showed up for you without you having to ask?”
The question lands like a stone in still water.
My ex used to make me feel guilty for needing help. My parents need me to fix everything. Even Fabrizio, with his apologetic texts about the restaurant, treats my help like an imposition he’s forced to accept.
But Patton just … shows up. Fixed my car. Rescued me from a squirrel. Didn’t make a big deal about either. Well, except for the report comments and the repeated delay of our Fireman’s Ball meetings.
Grandma adds, “For some people, it’s how they express their appreciation or affection.”
“Those two words don’t apply here.”
