Chapter 6
Lesley overheard John’s deep growl carry down the hall, and she pressed her ear to the door, straining to hear the rest of the conversation. What in the world had this man so agitated?
Bits and pieces of his words about her to his uncle, she could make out, but she couldn’t hear Milton’s lower tone at all. Unfortunately, the certain phrases she did hear weren’t all that nice. The “irritating as they come” phrase being one foul comment followed by “clumsy” and “stubborn.”
Her heart dropped as pressure built behind her eyes, and she fought the urge to cry—because apparently, everything made her cry, too. She wouldn’t give John the satisfaction. How foolish she’d been to have tingles over this ornery man. What a mess she was.
Okay, so maybe she was a little clumsy, but he was the stubborn one. He’d been determined to knock Rosalyn down since he first laid eyes on the beautiful heap of junk. Despite all its problems, the house could be grand again. The way it was supposed to be.
And, naturally, she asserted her authority. This was her house and her money, and if he didn’t have the manpower for such a big job, then the two of them were going to be working extremely close together. Especially seeing as how she didn’t have the funds to pay a bunch of hired hands. He was either going to have to like it or quit.
She hoped he didn’t quit.
Regardless of his attitude, and his colorful description of her, though not very nice, she needed a contractor.
Lesley turned on the bathroom sink and let all the brown water run down the drain until the liquid ran clear. An unused toothbrush, still in the package, sat in the medicine cabinet. From the wrapping, the brush looked as if it dated back to 1952, but unused, nonetheless. Sliding the disintegrated packaging between her fingertips, she pulled the cardboard top off and applied a generous amount of toothpaste to the brush.
She scrubbed, flossed, and rinsed with vigor. Her hair was something a shower would have to repair, so she kept the hat on and went straight to her face. She dabbed on a little lip gloss, powder, and mascara. After pinching her cheeks for color, she walked out of her bathroom feeling like a new woman. Almost.
Her neck and shoulders still ached from the lumpy mattress, but at least her headache had dissipated. The thought of sleeping on the old bed another night with no AC had her brain daring to play drums.
She rounded the corner of the living area at the same time the men did. Milton greeted her with another smile before she kicked something hard and stumbled.
John shot out his hand to prevent her from hitting the ground then held her by the arm. “Easy.”
His toolbox sat in the middle of the floor. When did that get there?
She refused to meet his glare as his clumsy comment rolled around in her mind. “Thanks.”
“The place is going to be wonderful.” Milton gazed at the ceiling, no doubt changing the subject to prevent her from further embarrassment. “When it’s finished, I’ll be sure to send all of my out-of-town clients here.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hambrice. That would be wonderful.”
“Call me Milton.” He reached in his shirt pocket and pulled out a small envelope. “I have a letter for you. I was told to give it to you after you had decided if you would settle in. I know you’ve only been here one day, but it seems to me like it’s safe to say you plan on staying.” He arched an eyebrow.
“That’s right, I do.” She accepted the envelope and stared at the thickness of it. A one-page letter, maybe two. But there was something else in there, she could feel it between her fingers. Curiosity burned to rip open the envelope, but a nagging feeling told her to wait—wait until she could focus on what the letter said.
“Great. Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Milton turned. “Oh.” He stopped and pivoted on his heel. “Before I go, Ms. DeLoach, have you become acquainted with the town yet? The grocery stores and such?”
“Not yet. In fact, I had plans to explore this evening. We need a few supplies for the house, and I need a new mattress for my bed. And apparently, a new washing machine.”
“I see.” The lawyer nodded. “Well, John, why don’t you be so kind as to show the lady around town this evening.”
“Oh, no, that’s really not necessary,” she interjected. “I’m sure I can find my way around myself.”
By the comments John had made to his uncle and from the way he pulled his arm away from her when she touched him, the message was loud and clear. He didn’t want to have much to do with her, or at least, any more than he had to.
“I’m sure you can, too,” the moody contractor agreed. “And besides, I have to get home to the kids.”
Kids? He has kids? That would probably mean a wife, too, right?
Milton faced her. “You can’t get a mattress or a washing machine home in that small sports car of yours, and there really is no need to pay a delivery fee when John has a truck you can use.” His uncle slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll take care of the kids for you. I’ve missed them since I’ve been out of town. Take all the time you need.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Mr. Hamb…I mean, Milton, but I can handle the shopping myself. Really.”
“No. My nephew would be happy to help, wouldn’t you John?”
He cut his gaze to his uncle then reluctantly back to her. “Sure, no problem.”
“All right. It’s settled.” Milton grinned. “Ms. DeLoach—”
“Lesley, please,” she interrupted.
“Lesley, it was a pleasure to meet you. I’m sure we will be in touch again soon.” He turned to his nephew. “John. I’ll see you tonight.” The lawyer’s loafers shuffled against the wooden floor before the screen door slammed.
Lesley glanced around the room at all the work they still had left to do. Her stomach growled and an overwhelming urge to cry came over her. Maybe she really did cry at everything, but how had she ended up here?
A cheating husband, that’s how. A husband I never thought would cheat. The back of her eyes stung.
“How about we grab a pizza before we go get your supplies?” John asked…almost as if he could sense she needed a change of scenery before the water works began.
“Love to.” He might not be the most pleasant person to be around, but she had to get out of that house. Her reality started to feel all too real. “Let me just go ask Bea if she wants to tag along, and if Mr. Leo might want to meet us there since he isn’t home yet.” She placed the envelope Milton had given her next to the Bible on the mantle and shimmied past him. She hit her hip on an end table and clutched her side as a lamp nearly toppled to the floor. John caught it before it shattered into a million pieces.
I must be getting an ear infection. Ever since she had come in contact with John Hambrice her equilibrium seemed to be all…off. At least, more off than usual.
“You okay?” He righted the lamp.
“Yep. Thanks for catching it.” Too embarrassed to meet his gaze, she continued toward the kitchen.
“Don’t mention it,” he mumbled as she rounded the corner.
No problem there. She’d had enough embarrassment the past couple of days to last a lifetime.
****
Thoughts of pepperonis danced in Lesley’s head. Emma’s muffin had tasted great, but it didn’t hold her appetite for long, and seeing as how it was three o’clock in the afternoon, there was no wonder why she felt starved. At least the restaurant should be practically empty at this time of day.
“Ms. Bea and Mr. Leo didn’t want to join us?” John asked as he drove down the town’s main drag.
“No. Bea said to go ahead, and honestly, I don’t blame her.” She pulled some hand sanitizer from her purse.
“Why do you say that?”
“No offense, but you stink, and I can’t imagine I smell much better.” Squirting a globe of the gel in her hands, she rubbed her palms together and spread the liquid up her arms to her elbows.
“Whew.” John wafted the air in front of his face. “Now you smell like a drunk flower garden.”
“Better than cat urine and moth balls.” She offered him the bottle.
He shook his head. “Don’t forget the sweat,” he added.
“I do not sweat.” She sat up straighter in her seat. The gall of the man! “I glisten.”
“Not according to those arm pit stains under your shirt.”
She widened her eyes. “What?” Raising her arm, she found round, dark rings stained her expensive blouse. She dropped her arm. What did it matter? It was already ripped; besides, her first impression in town wasn’t that great to begin with being stopped by a police officer. What did a dirty shirt matter? “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
His shirt wasn’t any better off than hers. He’d worked hard from the moment he got to the manor until they hopped in the truck to go eat. There was no surprise why he was so dirty.
“You know, you didn’t have to do this,” she said as he pulled his truck into the busy parking lot of Preppy Pepperoni’s. “I could have found a way to get the mattress and washing machine home.” Somehow.
“Sure I did, and yeah, you probably could have, but Uncle Milton wouldn’t have let me live it down otherwise.” He turned off the ignition and reached for his handle. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” The sign’s logo had a pepperoni dressed in a red bowtie and black sweater vest with the proud words: “Now Serving Two Locations.” She didn’t think the world could handle a Preppy Pepperoni franchise.
“Why is the parking lot so full?” A long, white school bus looking vehicle with Bakersville Senior Center etched on the side took up five parking spots.
“Senior Citizen Day. Half price pizza all day for anyone over sixty-five, and the Bingo grand prize game starts in about…” John glanced at the clock on his dashboard. “Ten minutes.”
“Of course,” she mumbled under her breath. She didn’t mind sharing the restaurant. Really, she didn’t. She just wanted food, air-conditioning, and a comfortable seat…now. But fighting a crowd did not sound appealing.
Lesley hopped out of the truck, rocks crunching under the soles of her shoes. John grabbed the door to the pizza place when an unseen force pushed her into his chest before she could walk over the threshold. Two older ladies in giant, red hats bustled past her, tsking at the slowness of today’s youth.
“You might want to watch your back. Senior Citizen Day can get a little rowdy.” He righted her again for the fourth time in their twenty-four-hour history together.
“Ya think?” She pushed against his chest. Hard muscle greeted her palm.
Pulling her hands down, she straightened her blouse, adjusted her hat, and crossed the threshold into the shop. The Beach Boys blared over the sound system as teenagers wearing navy sweater vests and red bowties roller-skated pizzas out to the buffet line.
Patrons stood around the bar, plates at the ready, while men with canes and walkers used their devices as shields from anyone that dared to take their slice before they had a chance to reach for it themselves.
“What a loud bunch,” she yelled over the noise.
“You better grab a plate and dive in before it’s all gone. Another batch will take at least fifteen minutes to come out.”
Fifteen minutes seemed like a lifetime away.
Hurriedly, she reached for a plate at the end of the counter and nudged her way between a lady in a wheelchair and a man with a walker.
“Sugar, do you mind helping me?” The woman in the chair held her plate up to the counter. “A couple of those cheese slices will do just fine.”
“Sure.” Lesley grabbed the handle and plopped a few pieces on the lady’s dish.
“Could you just roll me right over there to my table. It’s hard to balance the plate and push the chair.”
“Uhh…” Lesley glanced around the bar. Slices were being yanked off the trays left and right. Five pies, already gone, and only a few skinny pieces of cheese remained. Her stomach rumbled.
She moved her gaze back to the woman in the chair, while the lady’s happy, wrinkled blue eyes stared up at her. “Sure, ma’am. No problem.”
Fifteen minutes wasn’t that long to wait for more.
She placed her empty plate under her arm as she pushed the pleasant woman to her seat.
By the time Lesley made it back to the buffet, her stomach growled louder, like a lion ready to pounce on its prey, only there wasn’t anything to pounce on. Even the skinny slices were gone.
She glanced around the restaurant for John. Sitting in the back corner, he had a mound of pie on his plate—so, that’s where all the food had gone—and by the looks of things had grabbed them the last empty table. He waved his hand to her. She zigzagged around crutches, canes, and crowds to plop beside him.
“Here.” He tossed some pizza on her plate and slid a bingo card her way.
“Thanks. How’d you get so many slices?”
“I let the ladies touch my biceps.” He gave her a slow smile.
She moved her stare to his arms. Round. Solid. Tan. He really did have nice muscles.
“Game’s about to start. The pot’s up to one thousand. That could go toward your mattress if you win, and we need to buy you some window units.”
“I agree, and that would be a good way to use the money.” She took a bite of sausage and pepperoni. “Thanks for sharing. You didn’t have to.”
“Yeah, I did.” He gave her a wink as he slid some bingo chips her way.
The wink meant nothing. It didn’t. He probably has a wife, for cripes sake, but she couldn’t convince her body his twitching eyes meant nothing. Even after his unpleasant comments about her, she still felt all tingly inside.
Lesley glanced away, her cheeks burning. She was just hungry, and her low blood sugar affected her ability to think logically. Besides, she couldn’t like someone that had a wife. No way.
A man in his eighties with thick glasses and pink suspenders winked at her at the same time the heat rushed her face. His lips turned upright; pieces of oregano stuck to his dentures. He blew a few kisses, his face matching his suspenders. Gramps thought he was the one to excite her. Well, wasn’t this a mess? Might as well give the guy a thrill. She blew him a few kisses back.
“Are you flirting with that old man?”
“He started it.”
“Well, stop it before you send him into cardiac arrest.”
“B-12.” A middle-aged fellow wearing a red sweater vest and matching bowtie boomed into a microphone at the front of the restaurant. A shiny “Manager” nameplate adorned his right breast.
John placed a chip on her free space. “Besides, we have a bingo game to win.”
“What do you think you’ll do with the money if you win?”
“I don’t think.” He placed a chip on his game card.
“Then what would you do?”
“O-62.”
“Pay off a few of my wife’s medical bills.”
Her heart skipped a beat. So, he was married. She had been getting all tingly over a married man?
Absolutely, no way, not happening.
She wouldn’t go there. Never would she put another woman through the same pain she had experienced. And to top it off, his wife was sick. Awesome—the knowledge made her feel even more of a heel.
She scooted a few inches away from him, and pursed her lips. How dare he wink at her while his wife was at home ill? What kind of man was he? “So, you have a wife who is sick?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“She’s not sick anymore?”
“No. I don’t have a wife anymore,” he mumbled.
Oh. Well, maybe he wasn’t as bad as she thought. “Oh, so you’re divorced?”
Staring at his bingo card, he took in a deep breath. “No.” His dark gaze rose. “She died.”