But for some reason, the out-of-towners have been less annoying than usual today. Or maybe I’ve been more patient. At any rate, it’s late morning and I’m feeling pretty good.
“How’s the new location treating you?” Ed Littlewolf asks by way of greeting as he passes by on his wayto the Lenni Lenape Museum, where his wife is no doubt giving one of her famous tours.
“Can’t complain,” I say. “Have a good one, Ed.”
Actually, I can complain, I just won’t complain to Ed. I’ve been questioning my decision since I set up the trees here and realized how tough it is for people to park. Plus, half my regulars don’t even know I’m here.
But I’m investing in Meg’s future, or trying to. And I can’t do that without changing some things around.
Erica used to say I wasincapable of change. It drove her berserk that I was set in my ways.
But I’m proving her wrong these days, even if it’s only small things. This old dog has a few new tricks up his sleeve.
I start moving trees around, filling in the empty spots with fresh stock from my truck. As I’m placing a big spruce, someone clears their throat behind me.
“Be right with you,” I say. “Hang tight.”
“Are these trees hypoallergenic?” a lady asks without waiting, in a clipped, nasally tone.
“There’s no such thing,” I tell her without turning around.
Honestly, what is wrong with people?
“Of course there is,” she sniffs.
“You’re right,” I say, turning to find her just as I expected—a well-dressed, rail-thin woman with an unpleasant expression. “You can find them at the place across from the diner.”
“That’s more like it,” the lady says, marching off without thanking me.
“I think he’s talking about plastic trees,” her husband points out correctly as he hurries after her. “The place across from the diner is the home goods store. It has plastic trees in the window.”
“How does that man expect to do any business when he doesn’t cater to his customers?” the woman asks the universe, completely ignoring her husband.
Instead of rolling my eyes, I’m trying not to smile again.
Do I really find this funny? What’s gotten into me?
But I already know the answer. My eyes move to the bookshop before I consciously decide to look.
I’ve been trying to catch a glimpse of Taylor Greer all morning. But she left so early, I guess to spend time at the library like she said she would. And now she’s probably hiding in a corner, or flattening herself to the walls just to avoid seeing me.
A chuckle escapes my lips as I picture that, and I wish I had a switch I could flip to turn off the sudden sunlight in my heart.
One night. I spentone nightin this young woman’s company, and all of a sudden I’m the kind of guy who can just let things roll off his back? The kind of guy whochucklesto himself?
Thankfully, my dad’s friends the Meyers wander over and start looking at trees and asking how my dad is doing, so I can distract myself with that for a while.
And by the time I’ve got a big spruce secured to the roof of their ancient station wagon, there are more customers waiting. It’s a blessing to have any business at all, and I’m especially grateful when I need a distraction as much as I do today.
By two o’clock,things are slowing down and I’m ready to take a late lunch break. But I’ve got one thing to do first.
Hanging the chain across the lot, I try to guess if she’ll open the door for me.
Of course, Taylor doesn’t know that I could get into that building whenever I want. I know I really need to tell her about it, and I will. But for now, I’m not pushing my way in like that.
For some reason though, I don’t like her shying away from me. Not seeing her through the window all day started off amusing, but now there’s a low rumble of discontent in my chest.
I want her to peek out at me, like yesterday.
