“Excuse me? Hello?”
I’m about to hang up when the voice says to me, “This is Charlie Florek.”
“Charlie, hi. This is Alice Everly calling.”
I hear the metallicthwackof metal on metal. A hammer, maybe.
“One sec,” Charlie says, annoyed, and then: “For the last time, Sam, will you kindly fuck off? You’re going to ruin it.”
I hear a disgruntled reply, and then Charlie says to me, “Sorry, who is this?”
“Alice Everly. I’m staying at John Kalinski’s cottage this summer.” I try to talk over the ruckus in the background. It sounds like he’s on a construction site. “Is this a bad time?”
There’s a long pause, raised male voices, and then the noise stops.
“No, I’m good. Apologies for that.” Charlie clears his throat. “Hi. Alice, right?” It’s a nice voice. Deep with a scrape of sandpaper over hisr’s.
“Right.”
A thing about me: I once broke my wrist in ninth-grade gym class and spent twenty-four hours gritting my teeth against the pain until I finally told my mom Imightneed to see a doctor. I don’t like asking for help, or being an inconvenience, or wasting anyone’s time. This phone call incorporates all three—Charlie is clearly in the middle of something.
So I rush forward, getting it over with. “John said you might be able to help me out. I have a list of things I need to do at the cottage for my grandmother. She’s just had her hip replaced, and I—”
Charlie cuts me off. “How are you?”
“Excuse me?”
“ ‘How are you?’ ” says Charlie, sounding amused, “is typically what you ask someone after ‘Hello.’ ”
“I’m fine, thank you,” I say, slightly thrown. “Anyway, my grandmother—”
Charlie interrupts me a second time. “I’m good, Alice. Thanks for asking.”
“Right.” My face heats. I can’t remember the last time I was chided. “That’s good. That you’re good. We’re both good.”
Another thing about me: When I’m not holding my camera, I can find it hard to speak up. In my loud, chaotic family, with strangers, with pushy art directors…It’s one of the reasons why I love shooting so much—it’s the only time I feel like a certified badass.
I clear my throat, trying to get back on track. “As I was saying, there are a few things I need to have done at the cottage before we arrive, and I was hoping you or someone you know could help. I have a list.” I fetch my notebook and begin reading off the bullet points. “Grab bars, moving furniture, moving out the rugs—”
“Alice.” Charlie interrupts me yet again.
I inhale, annoyance growing. “Yes?”
“Take a breath. I can feel your anxiety all the way in Barry’s Bay.”
“I’m trying to be conscious of your time,” I say, channeling my most professional, together self. The Alice I am behind the camera. “I simply want to ensure everything is suitable for when I arrive with my grandmother. If you’re unable to assist me, that’s quite all right. But perhaps you know someone who can.”
A low chuckle fills my ear. “Don’t worry. I’mquitehappy toassist. John gave me a heads-up about your grandma’s surgery. I’ll take care of everything. Text me that list of yours, and I’llensureeverything issuitable.”
I blink. “Are you making fun of me?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says, but I can hear him smiling. No, not smiling.Smirking. “Just get yourself up here, Alice. Something tells me you need some time at the lake more than I do.”
The hammering resumes in the background, and Charlie curses.
“See you soon, City Girl.”
And then he’s gone.
