OFF THE MARKET

by Casia Shreyer

  “I think the chef would take that as a compliment.”

  “So Joe sort of trapped you into your current career path?” she pressed.

  “Don’t get me wrong, this is a lot better than taking orders from some under experienced crew chief with connections who was half my age.”

  “So all of what, twelve?”

  “Maybe not quite that young, but taking orders from these kids who knew the boss or had some fancy diploma, and no experience on the job, really grated at me for a long time. Joe saw that and he got me out of there.” Paul almost added, ‘like I got him out of here,’ but bit off the words before they could escape.

  She studied him for a moment and he was afraid she would press him for the rest of the sentence but she turned her attention back to her steak. When she could speak again she said, “Are all contractors money hungry creeps?”

  Paul smiled, knowing it wasn’t an insult directed at him. “I’ve met a lot of them that are, and very few who aren’t. It’s one of those necessary trades. Homes always need to be built, or rebuilt, or repaired. The equipment is expensive to acquire and even more expensive to rent. The workers have a decent union so you have to pay the more than minimum wage after their first year, or you have to get non-union workers but most of those are high school dropouts or recent immigrants. I don’t have a problem hiring immigrants, but those ones have no English skills and no experience. It’s a hassle to train them.” He shrugged. “So yeah, a lot of guys over charge because they figure they’re entitled and they know they can get away with it. Or they cut corners on quality to save a buck. What about realtors, met any honest ones since you started?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Nope, honest ones are few and far between. They’ll always try to sell you the most expensive house you can afford and they’ll help hide defects until it’s too late for you to get out of the deal.” She raised her wine glass. “To the horrors of the business world.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” he said. Their glasses clinked with an airy light sound and he drained his. Taking the bottle, he topped her glass up but left his own empty.

  “Paul Anderson, are you trying to get me drunk?”

  “Nope, but it seems a shame to waste the rest of the bottle and I can’t drink anymore since I have to get us both back to your mother’s in one piece, and I think your mother would like your one piece separate from the car.”

  “You’re probably right on that.”

  “So, why didn’t the pre-sale of those houses go through as planned? Didn’t people want out of the trailer park?”

  “Of course they wanted out, but they didn’t have the money. Jobs are scarce and seasonal, the banks wouldn’t lend to someone without a solid job, and with a trailer you pay lot of rentals so it’s impossible to save up money for a down payment. And, on top of all that, there was no one to buy the trailers from the current residents so that they could move.”

  “Sounds like it wasn’t well thought out,” Paul said.

  She shrugged. “What else could they do?”

  Leave town, Paul thought but he said, “I don’t know Angie, I really don’t.”

  “I just wish someone would come in and do something drastic to liven up the town again. I wish I knew what that drastic something had to be! I’d do it myself but I don’t know what needs to be done.”

  It was Paul’s turn to take her hand in his. “Don’t worry Angie, something will come along.” Looking into her piercing eyes he thought, I would take you away with me if only you’d let me. You’d see just how small and outdated Barnes Lake is if only you’d let me take you to the city.

  She smiled at him. “Thanks, Paul.” She pulled her hand away and picked up her knife. “I’m going to eat this before it gets cold!”

  After a relaxing dinner, and all the wine, the car ride home was far livelier than the ride out had been. It was well after dark and a light rain was misting down making the highway shine beneath the headlights. The occasional yet rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers was lost beneath the sound of Angie’s frequent laughter.

  Paul remembered a lot about her from school, how she had been the only one who had tried to get to know him as a friend but of course he’d shut everybody out so his father couldn’t use them to hurt him. He remembered that she didn’t mind the science experiments with the cow heart and the earthworms, and that she had these amazing legs that he only ever saw in gym class when she was busy outplaying and outrunning all the other girls. He didn’t remember her laugh at all. In his mind she was always lost in thought, always concentrating on something, always so quiet compared to the other girls.

  It had been Shirley’s easy laughter and bright smile that had drawn Paul to her and it had been why he’d asked her out on that one date. If I had known Angie could laugh like this, things might have been different, he thought. Shirley’s laugh had tinkled, like the wind chimes that hung on his mother’s porch. Angie’s laugh was thick and rich and full throated, like velvet, or … It sounds like a room in a Victorian novel looked, with the dark wall coverings and a crackling fire and a high backed chair on a bear skin rug.

  The ride out had taken ages, but the ride back was over in a flash and before Paul hardly realized it they were parking in the lot at the bed and breakfast. Angie smiled as she unbuckled her seat belt. “Thanks, Paul. I needed to get out of the office and relax.” She leaned over the gear shift and kissed his cheek.

  She hesitated, her hand on his chin, her lips close enough that he could feel her breath on his cheek. He turned and kissed her and she tasted rich like the red wine they’d shared at dinner. He started to pull back but her lips parted in wonder and some deeper instinct took over.

  His lips were softer than she had imagined they would be, and he kissed her so gently, as though he was afraid of scaring her, or breaking her. But Angie had never been fragile and she suddenly wanted to prove that to him. She leaned into the kiss, her hip digging into the belt buckle. His hand slid to the back of her neck and she shivered.

  He couldn’t get enough of that kiss, of the taste and smell and feel of her, even in the cramped confines of the front seat. When she leaned in, seeking more, he had given her more, and her response had been gratifying.

  She felt breathless and a part of her, deep down, wanted the kiss to go on forever. But another part, the part that had been raised in a small town church, the part that knew her mother was waiting in the lobby dusting spotless knick knacks as an excuse for waiting up, started gasping for air and she pulled away from the kiss.

  He felt her begin to resist and almost didn’t let her pull away. With a shuddering sigh he opened his eyes and looked at her. She looked flustered, but not in a ‘just been kissed’ sort of way. Her eyes were nervous and her hand went to his arm, tugging him away from her neck.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He took her hand, caressing it lightly, innocently. “Don’t be sorry, Angie.” He kissed her again, soft, chaste, and short. “I should have kissed you nine years ago,” he murmured and kissed her again, and again.

  She pulled away, backing against her door, before she could get lost in the sheer masculine warmth of him. She shook her head. “Paul, I need a moment.”

  “Alright, I’m sorry.” He pulled her gently closer and hugged her, in an awkward sort of motion with the seats, and the gear shift, and the steering wheel all in the way. “Why don’t you come upstairs for a while?”

  She sat bolt upright and untangled herself from his arms. “I don’t know what kind of girls you dated in the city but you cannot wine and dine me and expect me to crawl into bed with you.”

  Paul felt as though he’d been slapped and his eyes hardened. “Who said anything about sex?” he growled. “I figured if we sat in the dining room, or the lobby, your mom would probably join us and ruin the wonderful mood.”

  She stopped and looked hard at him. “Paul …”

  “No, you’re right. There were a lot of girls after I left here, and yeah, I slept with m
ost of them.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I just thought we were having a good time, I wanted to hear you laugh some more, just for me.” He gave his head a shake. “I should turn in. We have a lot to do tomorrow.”

  “Paul, I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess you don’t know everything about me, either.” He grabbed the Styrofoam container of leftovers which he intended to give Joe for his mid-morning snack and stepped out into the drizzle.

  Alone in the car with the windows fogged and the smell of him on her hands and in the air around her, Angie sighed. “I want to, Paul; I’ve always wanted to know. I wish, just for once, that you’d let me in.”

  Chapter 10 – Then

  Angela Barbour was not like other girls. For one thing, she listened more than she talked. She listened in change rooms and classrooms and in the hallways when all the kids went to their lockers. She listened to everyone, even when they weren’t talking to her, even when they didn’t acknowledge her at all as was often the case. Because of this, Angie knew things about everybody.

  Angie knew that most of the girls in her senior year often made out with their boyfriends under the bleachers and in the back seats of cars even though they went to church every Sunday and sat in their pretty dresses beside their parents and said their prayers loudly and smiled at all the old ladies who called them sweethearts. She knew that Caroline Fischer, who was head of the Girl’s Group at church, was sleeping with her boyfriend. She knew that Corey Wilson wanted to be a chef even though he told everyone that he wanted to play pro football. She knew that Shirley White was in love with Paul Anderson even though she was dating a boy who had already graduated.

  But for everything Angie knew about everyone in her class, she knew nothing about Paul Anderson, except what everybody already knew. She knew his father worked at the lumber mill and went to the bar with the rest of the lumber mill workers most evenings. She knew his mother, Cassandra, stayed home and kept house and volunteered with the church. She knew he had two brothers, Matt who was sixteen, and Joe who was fifteen. And she knew Paul was a serious young man who said very little to anyone.

  Maybe that was what started her fascination with him. Like her, he rarely spoke and she wondered if he listened the way she did. She wondered what dreams he kept hidden under his grim exterior. She wondered what private jokes and stories he and his brothers shared and, as an only child, was envious of those imagined tidbits of family life.

  Once she had asked Shirley about her one date with Paul two years earlier but Shirley and the other girls had only teased her for months that she had a crush on Paul. Even though Angie denied having any romantic interested in the mysterious Paul Anderson, Shirley still made her life miserable as only a jealous teenage girl could.

  Angie had tried reaching out to Paul directly but that had gone even worse. She had tried walking home with him but he had basically ignored her.

  She had walked up to him, her books clutched to her chest. “Hi, Paul.”

  He had been leaning on against the bike rack and had stared down at her. “What is it?”

  “I was wondering if you understood the science homework.”

  “Yeah. I’m not stupid.”

  His abruptness had startled her. “I didn’t mean … I just … I was confused by a few questions. Could you help me? Maybe just talk me through it on the walk home?”

  “I’m not a teacher. If you need help go see Mr. Hendricks.” He had waved to his brothers, shoved off the bike rack, and walked away without even saying good-bye.

  She hadn’t tried that blatantly to engage him in conversation again, but her fascination with him hadn’t ended. She watched and she listened and she noticed the little things that were strange about his personality. He was defensive to a fault, jumpy almost, and never, ever, spoke of his family to anyone. These little puzzle pieces only fueled her curiosity and even after graduation she had watched him whenever he came into the diner on her shift. Then, three summers later, when Joseph Anderson graduated from high school, all three brothers disappeared and it was months before news of them trickled down the gossip grape vine. They had gone to the city without a word to anyone, leaving only a brief letter for their mother. And for nine years Angela Barbour had tried to put Paul Anderson out of her mind.

  Chapter 11 – Now

  Paul was fighting to get the new railing installed on the porch single handedly when Joe popped his head out the front door and said, “Hey Paul, what’s the difference between a small family home and a guest cabin at a posh resort?”

  “Joe,” Paul grunted, trying to keep the railing balanced with a shoulder while attempting to drive in the next screw, “If that’s the opening line to a bad joke I don’t want to hear the rest.”

  “No jokes, Paul, I really need to know.”

  “Are you done with the bathroom?”

  “Almost, I’m just waiting for the caulking to set so I can do a massive clean-up and install the little things like the …”

  “That’s great, Joe. Would you get out here and hold this for me?!”

  Joe’s eyes widened in surprise as he stepped out onto the new porch and said, “Sure, why didn’t you ask sooner.”

  Paul rolled his eyes but he was too grateful to be able to stretch his shoulder again to complain. He fetched a fresh handful of screws and set about sinking them into the railing at all the little pencil ‘x’ marks. “The difference between a small house and a guest cabin, I guess, would be size, mostly. And layout. You don’t need a lot of storage space in a guest cabin because you’re only living there for two months, tops. You can usually cheap out on things like faucets and light fixtures for the same reason and you’d want generic décor in a cabin. A cabin, though, usually has a few luxuries, like a jetted tub, or a loft master bedroom, or really big windows overlooking a stunning lake. Why do you care?”

  Seeing that the railing was secure enough to stay on its own Joe retreated into the house again. “No reason Paul, just curious. Thanks!”

  Paul shook his head. Over the years Joe had pestered him with any number of seemingly random questions. Of course one line of questioning had resulted in him owning his own company, but most of the time the questions stopped when Joe’s current fantasy business endeavor hit the dead end of reality.

  The next day, Paul was on his way to the City Hall to meet Angie for lunch when he ran into Joe coming out. “I thought you were taking the truck to the dump,” Paul said.

  “I was, and I did. And then I stopped here on my way back because I needed to ask Angie a few questions. I’m going to the bed and breakfast for lunch so I’ll meet you back at the house.”

  “What did you do with Matt?”

  “He’s at the garage,” Joe replied and bounded down the wide, cracked steps to the truck. “See you in an hour or two.”

  Paul tapped on the frame of Angie’s office door and smiled when she looked up. “Is it that time already? I guess I should have expected you since Joe was just in and it’s not like you’d let him off the hook before lunch time.”

  “I saw him leaving. I hope he didn’t drive you too crazy.”

  “No.” She grabbed her purse. “He had some questions about land rights and zoning bylaws. Why would he want to know that?”

  “Who knows what goes on in that boy’s head,” Paul replied. “He’s always pestering me with off the wall questions. It’s like he asks just so he’ll have the answer for some future scenario.”

  “That’s smart. A business man should know things like zoning bylaws.”

  “I thought that’s why business men hired realtors.”

  She laughed. “He hasn’t offered me a job yet!”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Paul grumbled. “What did you want for lunch?” They’d been going to the diner every few days since their date. At first they had been cautious around each other but neither of them mentioned the kiss and soon they were comfortably enjoying each other’s company.

  “Oh, Mom packed us some l
eft over fried chicken and some buns. I need your expert opinion on something.”

  “You want me to work on my lunch break?”

  She grinned. “That’s right. And I’m paying you in fried chicken.”

  “Beats peanuts,” he said with a shrug and got into the car.

  Nothing in town was very far away and Paul barely had time to put together two fried chicken sandwiches before Angie was turning off the car. Paul looked up to see she had parked in the side lot of the church.

  He swallowed hard. “What are we doing here?”

  “Well, this is one of the first things that the city council wants taken care of. The contractor in Moose Lake won’t touch it and I can’t get anyone else to come from the city just to look at it.”

  “Why didn’t we look at this first then?”

  Angie pursed her lips. “Because the mayor only informed me of the council’s decision two days ago and this is the only day this week that we can get in to see it. Pastor Frank is away the rest of the week and the church will be packed on Sunday.” Angie knew packed was probably an over statement but Paul didn’t seem to notice; he was still staring at the church.

  “Sure, let’s go take a look. It can’t be that bad.” He got out of the car without taking his eyes away from the tall brick building around which the town had been built.

  Pastor Frank met them at the door and greeted Angie with a smile and a hug. He was an older man who had been with the parish twenty years and he studied the young man who stood before with great interest. “It’s been a long time, Paul.”

  “Good afternoon,” Paul replied.

  “You look well.”

  “You too. Angie tells me the council wants to repair the church?”

  “Yes. Why don’t you come in and take a look around. It’s nice having a local take a look since I don’t have to show you around.”

  “Well, I might need directions to the furnace room, and the key to the basement door,” Paul replied.