by Lyz Kelley
He considered telling Ashley about helping Harold unload the store’s delivery, but right now he wasn’t feeling so generous. He didn’t want to admit it, but her rejection had stung. Maybe he didn’t understand exactly what she felt, but he recognized the emptiness, the longing for more time, the shock of having to live without that core person.
“Would you have time to give me a ride into town later?” he asked.
“Take the truck.” Her tone had gone frosty. “I don’t want to leave Lucky. Plus, I’m really behind. I’ve got stuff I need to put up on eBay and pack for shipping.” Her arms crossed. Her eyes changed from turbulent to neutral.
Guess she doesn’t like being turned down, either. “I don’t want to leave you stranded.”
“There’s an ATV out back I can use if needed. If I run out of things to do, I can always work on my teapot wind chimes for the craft fair. Let’s plan on swapping vehicles tomorrow. By then, I’ll feel better leaving Lucky on his own.”
There were reasons men stayed single. One minute, she fit into his life like a warm pair of comfortable, dry socks, the next she chafed like a wet pair of boxers. “I’m going to change before I go. If you think of anything you need, you have my number.”
“I’m fine.”
Fine? Sounds like a ‘fuck-you’ fine to me.
Chapter Ten
I’m fine. Ashley scoffed at her own expense. No, I’m not fine. Far from it.
She contemplated calling Chase’s cell to explain, but what would she say?
Forgive me, I’m still grieving and angry and not thinking straight? Sorry for being so bitchy? I apologize for not knowing exactly what I want to do with my life?
All excuses. She needed to stop with the excuses.
Time was running out. She needed to find her brave, and not be the person her mother expected—the directionless soul.
She had a plan. Money. Shelter. Food.
How did she get so distracted? She couldn’t even manage to take care of herself, much less a dog or a boyfriend. But being distracted was no excuse for being rude.
She should have thanked him for helping with Lucky, for giving her a reason to smile the past few days. The idea had been buried by anger, and hadn’t gotten her attention until too late.
Anger. So much anger.
Anger at her mom’s friends who’d pushed her mom to the point of exhaustion. Anger at those who’d visit a time or two, then disappear. Anger at her dad for coming home to help, then letting her mother talk him into leaving several days early. She hated him for leaving. Not talking, only watching. Every morning he watched her go about bathing, clothing, feeding, and caring for her mother. After breakfast, he’d disappear, and she’d run into him fixing a sink or gutter or replacing tires. Once he fixed what needed fixing around the house, he’d left, abandoning her once again.
She didn’t want to hate. Anything. Anymore.
Hate was exhausting.
And she didn’t want to live angry.
She contemplated her hairy jeans and worn sneakers and wondered how her life had become blank. So easily erasable.
Her friends at school had talked about their dreams. Where were her dreams? Where was her black, bold Sharpie mark on the world? So far, she hadn’t even made a pencil scratch.
She drew a deep breath, trying to feel a little ray of life. Of hope. For some reason, Rachelle popped into her mind.
Rachelle, a female who had it all—looks, money, and a no-give attitude that got her whatever she wanted. The minute the bimbo showed up, Chase was all happiness and laughter. Could it be he had a date with her tonight? It would explain why he wasn’t available for dinner. Besides, why would he stick around for hamburger when he could have a sirloin?
Feeling sorry for yourself? You said no excuses.
A thump-thump-thump made her acknowledge the dog, whose tail was banging on the floor, his tired eyes gazing at her. Squatting, she brushed a hand over the dog’s ear and down his neck. A surge of confidence hit her. “From now on, I’m going to do my best to stay positive and look toward the future, not back. I’m going to find my marker and make some plans. You in?”
Lucky lifted his head to nuzzle her hand and released a soft whine.
“That’s my good boy. You keep me honest.”
She moved to her desk and studied the plan she’d created.
Write thank-you notes.
Sell. Make stuff. Sell some more.
Look for affordable apartments.
Clarify what can be sold with Dad.
Fill out three job applications per week.
She’d at least gotten the first three accomplished, but she was running out of stuff to sell. Her dad probably had some things he wanted to toss, but that would mean calling him, and she’d rather stick a fork in her eyeball. The teapot chimes sold well, but she only had enough to make eight more. If only she could use the mismatched forks, knives and spoons.
Tapping the pen on the desk, she remembered a Pinterest image. She slid her computer toward the edge of the desk and typed ‘things to make from silver flatware.’
A slow smile crossed her face. Of course. Her high school metalworking classes were again going to pay off.
Over the next few days she’d have to hustle. She could make stuff for the craft fair, and some special pieces she could hold back as gifts to show the members of Elkridge how much she appreciated them.
She picked up the phone and dialed the café, hoping to catch Jenna.
“River Creek Café,” a familiar perky voice announced.
“Jenna, you up for beating the crap out of some metal?”
Jenna began laughing on the other end of the line. “What do you have in mind?”
She explained her idea of how she could make hooks, drawer pulls, key rings, and pendants. Her dad had the tools. All she needed to do was use them.
“That’s brilliant. What if we decorate forks and spoons and bundle them with my pastries?”
Her friend’s enthusiasm thrilled her. For the next ten minutes they hashed out the details, talking over each other and laughing in their excitement. Pretty soon the women had a plan, and Ashley had some research to do.
“Maybe you could get Chase to help,” Jenna suggested. “He’s mighty good with a hammer.”
“No. He might have other things to do to occupy his time.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I doubt it. I bet he would rather help you than bust his butt helping Harold unload boxes and stack crates. He’s over there now. And since when have you ever trusted anyone with your dad’s truck?”
Relief broke through the annoyance with herself for having already decided he’d gone straight to Rachelle’s. A slice of guilt slid onto her grandmother’s chipped serving plates. Yep, her self-confidence was in desperate need of a Super Glue job.
“Hello? You still there?” Jenna’s voice sounded in her ear.
“I think Chase needed a good ear to bend. I haven’t been a very good friend. You should know that.”
“When are you going to give yourself a break and stop berating yourself to death?”
She started to say something, but suddenly the negative, whiny words flew right out of her mind, and she couldn’t remember what she wanted to say. Jenna had been there and heard her mom’s reprimands. She’d held her hand when she’d cried and told Ashley that, going forward, she’d bring only pureed Brussel sprouts, eggplant, and peas in retaliation. Her mom hated all three.
Ashley laughed at the memory. “How about I start today?”
“Really?” The shock in Jenna’s voice was palpable.
“Really. Want to come over tonight? Have the pizza night you talked about? We can start hammering on things, or I might even let you win at Boggle.”
“Listen, Queen of Webster, I can hold my own, thank you very much.” Jenna’s light, butterfly laughter assured her she was on the right path. “See you later?”
“Looking forward to it. Do you need me to pick up a
nything?”
“No. Most of the stuff I need is here. I’ve been boxing stuff to move into Harold’s camper.” Neatly stacked white boxes lined the edges of the living room. “I’m shipping my eBay stuff tomorrow.”
“You’ve definitely got the hang of eBay. Fred over at the post office is complaining about the extra work to anyone who will listen.”
“You mean I’m actually keeping him busy enough to interrupt his afternoon nap?”
“Most likely.” Jenna laughed. “See you tonight, then?”
“See you soon.”
Ashley hung up the phone and counted her blessings for having met Jenna.
Jenna hadn’t been in Elkridge long, but had quickly found her place in the small community, partly thanks to Maggie. She’d figured out how much Elkridge had to offer in less than a day. Before the end of the day, she decided to stay.
It had taken Ashley way too long to remove the blindfolds. Her only goal had been to get back to San Diego and what she thought was her life. But in reality, she’d been running to nowhere fast. Her mom’s illness and death had tilted her world, and lately she’d been questioning a lot of things. One thing she didn’t question: Elkridge. The mountains had called her home.
She picked up the antique frame with her mother and father’s wedding picture. Next month would have been their twenty-eighth anniversary, even though she seriously doubted they’d spent even half those years together. Still, they had stayed married.
The boxes of her father’s letters yanked an emotional cord, but she needed to get started on making stuff to sell. The humorous, sometimes serious things he’d written to her mom made her more curious. In those boxes she might be able to find the answers she desperately needed. Maybe, in those boxes, she could find the strength to move on, the confidence to extend her hand and reach for Chase. But her dad would have to wait until later tonight.
She glanced over at Lucky. “Let’s get you settled in the garage. It’s not much colder than the house, and you can be with me while I work.”
The dog’s eyes tracked her and his tail thumped on the floor.
“Good. Then we have a plan.”
She needed to make something happen.
Three more weeks might be all she had left before the bank came knocking. Then she’d have no choice but to leave. She needed to be ready.
Chapter Eleven
Jenna sat cross-legged on Ashley’s kitchen island eating the last piece of homemade, supreme pizza. The island had a wash-your-hands sink at one end and a large, hand-thrown fruit bowl at the other.
Between bites, Jenna caught her up on town gossip.
Ashley filled Jenna in on Rachelle’s visit and Rachelle’s twirly-haired, pouty effort to get Chase to notice her. And the fact Ashley had gotten so frustrated she launched a snowball at Rachelle’s car before she realized what she was doing.
“That’s the way to do it. Good on ya.” Jenna gave her a high-five and a smirk.
“What’s that smirk about?” Ashley eyed Jenna with a thanks-a-lot glare.
“You’re jealous.”
“Am not.” But that’s what Chase said, too.
“You’re green as they come, my friend.” Jenna filled her wine glass. “Admit it. You thought he was on a date with her tonight.”
She could imagine her head turning into a Granny Smith apple with a big brown stem, full of sour, juicy jealousy.
“I don’t know why you’d be jealous of Rachelle. The guy only has eyes for you.” Jenna winked at her over the slice of pizza. “Have you done it yet?”
“Done it?” Ashley choked. “What? Have we reverted to high school? Really?”
“I’m only asking. Geez, you don’t have to get all huffy.”
Ashley sighed. “I need ice cream.”
“You need to get laid.”
She paused midway to the refrigerator. “Don’t start.”
“Maybe that’s it. You forgot how. Like how tab A fits into slot B.”
Ignoring her friend, she retrieved a gallon of chocolate peanut butter ice cream. “Okay. I admit it. It’s been awhile. And maybe, since my college boyfriend dumped me, I’m a little hesitant to get back in the saddle again.”
“Men.” Jenna lifted her glass of wine and took a long swig. “Every female has at least one asshole posting unwanted pictures on our Facebook timeline. We should make an asshole list. Those guys who broke our hearts, cheated on us, or downright crushed our souls. Mine would take a legal pad.”
“Really, that bad?” Ashley asked. “How about having your picture posted in the boy’s locker room labeled slut, just because you wouldn’t put out.”
“That would rank as pretty bad, if a line chef and I hadn’t been caught having sex in the cruise ship’s walk-in refrigerator by the head chef.”
“You win.” Ashley said, jumping off the counter to get another spoon.
Jenna scooped out a mound of ice cream the size of a baseball. “You want my opinion?”
“Would it matter if I said no?”
“Not really.”
Ashley savored her ice cream, swirling the flavors and her frustration around in her mouth.
“There’s something between the two of you. Both of you are trying really hard to deny it, and it’s not working. Do yourself a favor and figure it out. Because opportunities like this, they don’t come around often.”
Confusion rushed in. “I’ve got to stick to my plan. Money. Shelter. Food. Nothing else.”
“I get it. Keeping life simple. Blocking out everything but the essential. But sometimes it’s not bad to let life get a little complicated.”
A peanut butter chunk got stuck on her tongue, and she needed to wash it down. She leaned over and shoved her face under the island faucet. When her lungs cleared enough to choke down her astonishment, she said, “But he’s leaving.”
“You don’t know that. He told Harold he was debating whether staying in the military was what he wanted. He might be a civilian by next year.”
Ashley’s emotions did a loop-de-loop. Now there was a game changer. “He actually said he was getting out?”
“No, but he’s thinking about it.”
Holy cow. What if he stayed? Her excitement stalled. “It doesn’t matter. I’d still be his vacation fling.”
Jenna laughed. “Okay. Try to say that again. This time like you really believe it.”
“I’m telling you how it is.”
“Well, then, your reality is slanted because when you two looked at each other, Hank’s gas pumps could go up in flames and neither one of you would notice.”
At that, Ashley shoved a hundred more calories of ice cream down her gob.
“I’m not saying you have to marry him tomorrow. I’m only saying you might give the poor guy a chance.”
“I can’t do long distance.”
Jenna stared at her until an uncomfortable feeling set in. “He’s not your dad, Ashley.”
Well, crap. That transparent, huh?
Once again she wondered about the letters and the man she barely knew. “I forgot to tell you, I found several boxes of letters my dad wrote my mom.” She let out a long, uneasy breath. “There’s something there that doesn’t fit with what I thought I knew. In the letters, my dad seems different. Kinder. More passionate. I don’t get it.”
Jenna looked away for a moment. “Nothing is what it seems. Trust me. You should keep searching for answers until you find the truth. Did you call and ask your dad if you could sell some of his stuff?”
“No. He knows the bank’s about to foreclose on the house. If he intended to help, he would have reached out by now.”
“I still think you should tell him how bad it is. At least you got the electricity turned back on.”
Heat brushed up Ashley’s cheek. “Mom kept telling me over and over again how sorry she was for not raising me better, for not giving me the tools I need to be an adult. I’m not a screw-up. It’s just that I didn’t think I’d be on my own so soon. I keep thinki
ng all I have to do is sell one thing a day, and if I hang on long enough, I’ll catch a break. For now, I have a roof over my head. And, thanks to a vintage perfume bottle and a silver coin collection, we can celebrate our friendship tonight.”
Like a good friend, Jenna pushed both the tub of ice cream and the bottle of wine in her direction.
“Sounds like a good plan, but I still think you should talk to your dad. Knowing the truth is a whole lot easier to work with than making stuff up. The unknown eats at a person until nothing’s left.” Her normally easygoing friend spoke lightly, but with heavy conviction, hammering each verbal nail home.
“Chase is good at solving problems. Maybe I should have him help me solve this one.”
Jenna only nodded because she’d shoved enough ice cream in her mouth to make her cheeks bulge.
The front door opened and then shut, signaling Chase’s arrival.
Ashley hopped down from the counter and automatically began checking her outfit and pushing her hair behind her ear.
Jenna rolled her eyes, sighed, and eased off the kitchen island. “And you tell me there’s no attraction. You got it bad, sister friend. I’m going home to let you two lovebirds talk about letters and the sex you’re not going to have.”
“Come on, stay.”
“Nope. Got an early baking morning tomorrow.” She snatched her multicolored hobo bag from the counter, dug out her lip balm for a quick once-over, and threw the tube back in the bag. “Hey, Chase.”
“Hey, Jenna. Ashley.”
Jenna put the lid on the gallon of ice cream and tucked it in her oversized bag. “You won’t need this anymore tonight. And before you ask about my sugar levels, I’m good. Later.”
Ashley walked Jenna to the front door, closed it, then slowly turned. “Hey.”
His eyebrows lifted. “Hey, yourself. Did you have fun with your friend?”
“I did. She thinks you’re hot.” Crap. How did that slip out? I’ll blame it on the wine.