“Betty won’t break down. She’s reliable and trustworthy, unlikesomepeople I know.” Dahlia was reminded that she still hadn’t heard back from Hank, the handyman. She stared into the parking lot, making a mental note to text him again after the quick shop. As she snapped out of her daze, her eyes locked on a tall guy in a leather jacket mounting his motorcycle.
“Still there?”
“Ah … yeah.” She caught a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror and pulled back in horror. She tried to fix her tangled honey locks, tucking a loose wave behind her ear and wiping the morning residue of mascara from her eyes. She didn’t feel her best, but after Lil died, she’d found herself coasting. Yet another reason she needed this summer in Southold.
“So I was thinking …” Kara began.
“About?” Dahlia put in her earbuds and kissed Harry on his pink-speckled nose as her eyes trailed the mystery man exiting onto the main road. “Be good,” Dahlia whispered, but she didn’t know if that was meant for Harry or a reminder to herself.
“You should make this your hot girl summer,” blurted Kara. “Date a little, maybe get laid.”
Dahlia coughed. “Are you crazy? I could be kidnapped.” She passed an older white-haired man pushing his grocery cart and nodded, hoping he couldn’t hear their conversation.
“You watch too muchDatelineand listen to too many true-crime podcasts,” Kara snickered.
“And you watch too much reality TV. The only action my bed will see is sleep.”
Kara audibly yawned.
Dahlia laughed as she pushed through the thick crowd of people whispering and grinning about something she wasn’t privy to.
“You need to get your mojo back! This quiet, good-girl thing is boring me. How on earth am I supposed to live vicariously through your single life if you don’t embrace it? Come on, Dahlia. This mama of three needs some excitement!”
Dahlia heard her phone vibrate and looked at the screen. It was Hank the handyman, thank God. “Can I call you back? This is important.”
“I suppose. Don’t forget to call me as soon as—”
And with that, Dahlia accepted the other call. “Hello, Hank?”
“Hi, Dahlia, this is Jean, Hank’s wife. I have some unfortunate news.” She got eerily quiet. “Hank’s had a heart attack. He’s still in the hospital. I’m sorry no one called you sooner.”
“Oh my God,” Dahlia muttered, pausing mid-aisle, her heart racing. “Please don’t be sorry. I’m sorry. Don’t give the house another thought. I’ll figure something out.”
“He went to Lil’s last week. He took the sheets off the furniture and turned on the water. A few appliances weren’t working, so he ordered some parts. When they come in, I’ll reach out.”
“Thank you. I’ll be praying for him,” Dahlia said, feeling her neck stiffen.
“Thank you, dear.”
Dahlia hung up as she leaned against the canned vegetables. Poor Hank. What was she going to do? She shook her head in disbelief. She hoped it wasn’t the refrigerator that was broken. She needed a fridge. That was a nonnegotiable.
What was she going to do without a handyperson? Lil’s house had been vacant for two years; it was going to need a lot of work. Dahlia fanned her face with the store circular, hoping her cheeks would stop burning. The smell of deli meat turned her stomach, a reminder of another uncertain time in her life. She needed to get to the house as soon as possible.
She ran through the store, throwing in just the necessities, and bolted onto the line.
Kara was right—Dahlia didn’t know anyone here anymore. She could feel beads of sweat lace the crease of her cleavage. She didn’t know the first thing about fixing up houses; being without a handyperson was like having a boat with no captain.
“Hello.” Dahlia gave a weak smile to the grocery clerk.
The teen girl texted feverishly, snapping a bubble.
Dahlia loaded the groceries onto the belt. “Oh, I have bags.”
The girl looked up. “Okay.” And then she returned to typing.
Dahlia tapped her foot. “I’m sorry, but I have a dog in the car. Could we move this along?”
“Oh, sure. I’m sorry. I’m just excited. That stud fromHamptons Housejust came in.”
