“Did you think she was hiding it in her back pocket?” Jonsie chuckles, making light of the situation, but indeed stating the truth. “I saw you staring at her ass. And what an ass she has. She’s a knock out. I mean those legs, her eyes, those ti…..”
“Jonsie, stay the fuck away.” Logan growls.
“You lying claim?” Jonsie asks smirking.
“Just stay the fuck away until I figure a few things out, yeah.”
“It’s not like we’re fifteen anymore and you can call dibs Logan.” Jonsie laughs, teasing his friend. They have had each other’s backs on more than one occasion.
“Let it go Jonsie, we were in ninth grade.” Logan chuckles.
“Yeah, but you know I had my eye on, what the heck was her name. Remember her with the blonde hair, damn it. I can’t remember her name.”
“Can’t remember her name, yet you still bring up the fact that I called dibs. Asshole.” Logan chucks a pen at Jonsie’s head.
“Can we get to the reason why you came to the ranch? Was it so I can come here so you can be a dick, or did you get a lead on the case?”
“Yeah, yeah, seems like Joe Richard’s younger son Peter was rebelling, so he decided to start a fire in the barn. Thought it would stay contained, just piss his dad off. Obviously not thinking, making a rash decision or maybe he’s not the smartest kid, you know, dry hay and all, with fire. I don’t need to tell you the facts that you already know. Well, Peter finally admitted to his dad what he did. Case closed, not arson.
Well, it was arson, but Richards promised to handle it. I told him that I would still have to make a report and we’d let him know if there were going to be any charges filed. Plus we have your billable hours to now deal with since you are a lone horse.
Jonsie smirks.
The Chief is not going to be happy with your invoice.”
Logan ignores his friend’s mock jab, “What the fuck, that kid is handed the world on a silver platter. Joe works his ass off to make sure his family has everything they need, and even then some. Damn, fuckin bratty kid, the damage he caused, the grief. Thank God none of Richard’s animals were killed. I hope he gets him the help he needs. Peter is a troublemaker, and one day if he’s not set straight someone’s gonna get hurt or worse.”
Jonsie shakes his head while he agrees, “Ran into Principal Dakers in town a few weeks back. He started taking about the youth of today. Which makes me laugh because that man must be older than dirt; I bet he can’t remember his youth. But he named Peter and a few of his friends as problem kids, always looking to get into trouble.” Jonsie shakes his head while putting his feet up on the desk.
“How old is Peter, couldn’t be more than what, fourteen?” Logan stands up from the chair.
“Yeah, just turned fourteen. But in seventh grade, held back a year.”
“Well, I guess it’s a relief that we know who caused the fire. I’m gonna keep my eye on him though; let him know we have him on our radar.”
“I gotta get home and take care of Cody. He’s got school tomorrow, hopefully Zoe was able to give him his bath and get him in bed.”
“Sure, later man. And not to sound like a chick but getting back to your tenant, she’s hot man, seems sweet, and she is living on your ranch, all I’m saying is not everyone is Sarah.”
Logan holds Jonsies eyes, knowing that his friend is serious, and only wants good things in his and Cody’s life. Always had his back, from the day they met in first grade.
Logan turns to leave, looking over his shoulder saying, “Later man. And you may want to check, your dick might have shriveled and in its place may just be a vagina.” But his smirk lets Jonsie know he appreciates his words.
Jonsie balls up a wad of paper and throws it at Logan as he leaves the room, both laughing.
**********
I hear scratching. Loud, continuous scratching. Shit. What if it’s an animal? Of course it’s an animal. Ugh.
After my bath I throw my hair up in a messy bun, put on my black yoga pants and pink tank top. I pull in a deep breath and try to gather some courage.
I put on my brave face when I realize the only one to help me is, damn it, me. I follow the sound of scratching. It’s coming from the back. I carefully open the back door. Thankfully I’m still protected from the huge wild yonder by the screen door. But, then again, the only thing between me and the great outdoors is a thin screen. I hesitantly peer out.
Since the sun has set it seems really dark without street lights that I had grown accustomed to. Feeling a little uncomfortable because I don’t know what kind of animals roam around on ranches at night. I remember my trusty baseball bat in my closet for scary moments just like this one. It won’t do me a lot of good sitting in my closet. Maybe I should get it.
I wish I had brought my pepper spray with me. I like the security I feel with the weight of it in my hand. My Dad used to tell me to carry it with me, that it was better than nothing. Unfortunately it sits at the bottom of one of my many boxes. Which one, I’m not sure. Ok, bat in closet, pepper spray in box. Not good.
Man up, I tell myself. But wait, I’m not a man, why do I have to man up? OK, put on your big girl panties. Sucking in a calming breath, I look around. The scratching sound stopped.
I look down and in front of me is the fattest cat that I have ever seen. I chuckle to myself thinking wow, everything is bigger in Texas. I open the screen door. It stares at me like it’s wondering why I haven’t rolled out the red carpet and invited her in. After gazing or more like internally criticizing me for what seems like a long time, the cat decides she semi-approves of me, brushes up against my legs and meows. I guess I passed the test. Or she is just using me for my air conditioning. Which I can’t blame her for.
I bend down and pick up the three hundred pound cat, (well not really maybe thirty pounds) and start to pet her. She has soft, thick orange fur. She nuzzles her face in my neck and I make the rash decision that she is allowed inside my cottage.
I need to pick out a name for her, for now I call her kitty until I can think of something more fitting. I wonder if she belongs to someone around here. Oh no, I hope it’s not Logan’s cat.
As I start to close down the cottage for the night, I realize it’s nice to have something living and breathing moving around inside the cottage besides me. Maybe it won’t feel as lonely.
Chapter Six
Duct Tape, Super Glue and a Prayer
The sun is shining through my curtains, and I can hear the flowing of the stream behind my cottage. So different to wake up to these calming sounds, instead of the blaring of a horn. Even with the peaceful tranquility surrounding me, I wake up with a knot in my stomach. Before I even attempt to crawl out of bed I reach for my phone and call Jenny. She always knows what to say to put things in perspective for me so I could start my day. She knows what I need to hear to help loosen my knot. She’s my human version of pepto bismol.
We talk about her job, which she hates more and more each day. She tells me that since I left it is almost unbearable. I tell her that she should move here with me. She laughs, but I’m serious. I’ll have to make myself more convincing another day.
I fill her in on my uneventful long drive out here, and then tell her about my hot landlord and his adorable son. She understood and sympathized when I told her about the debacle at the mini mart.
When we were just about to hang up Jenny tells me that she just started dating someone. All she divulged was that he was making her happy, they are taking things slow. She didn’t want to go into too many details as not to jinx the situation. I let it go, for now.
I am happy for her, she deserves a happily ever after. Plus, it makes me feel better since I’m here and she’s in New York. I like knowing that she has someone looking after her. My knot fully loosens, and I breathe a little easier when Jenny promises to visit me soon.
After my conversation with Jenny I quickly shower and dress for the day. I decided to get in my truck and go explore. I know, I know,
so much for never leaving the cottage. Thankfully my morning coffee and bagel gave me just enough energy to get going.
There had to be a town around here somewhere, and I am going to find it. I hope they have a post office; they couldn’t rely on pony express, could they? No, that’s ridiculous (I hope). I mentally make my list to help guide my day. Post office, bank, and town. Hopefully they are a package deal. Priorities for the day.
After making a right instead of a left that would have taken me back to the mini mart, I find town. Only a few miles down the way.
And there sits the post office, smack in the middle. I’m feeling a little proud of myself, I was thoroughly convinced that I was going to lock myself in and here it is, the first day and I am out and about.
Just driving down the streets of Pleasantville Texas gives me a warm fuzzy feeling inside. I wish Grace and Ellie were here with me. That thought makes me feel lonelier than ever. Maybe I can convince Jenny to visit sooner rather than later.
There’s even a barber shop with the nostalgic red and white twirling columns. A little coffee shop sits on the corner with a sign in the window stating that they also sell pastries. It’s not Starbucks, its better. The town is quaint, and makes me feel like I stepped in a time machine bringing me back to the past. From my vantage point I see a book store, a hardware store, and a diner. But the block goes on, so I know there are more places to see. I seriously like it here.
I make my way inside the coffee shop and get the biggest cup of iced coffee available. This should at least cool me off for a few minutes. The owners were so nice and welcoming. Sipping my coffee, I slowly walk down the street taking in my new hometown.
I have concluded that this town seems harmless. Everything is new to me so there doesn’t seem to be any triggers that will set me in the motion of a breakdown.
I first stop into the post office and mail the handful of packages I brought with me. The post office looks old on the outside, but the inside was brand new and modern. From self postage machines, marble floor and granite countertops. Very nice. The gentleman behind the counter was even better because he just smiled, took my packages, I paid, and he didn’t ask any questions. First priority, check.
Next I find the bank; it stands alone across from the post office. I stop in and set up an account. Since I get paid directly from the stores I sell to, this is to be extremely important. Especially if I don’t want to be evicted for not paying my rent. I bet Logan would love that. Then he can be done with his crazy tenant, never to rent to someone sight unseen again.
Everyone seems friendly. That’s because everyone is friendly. The owners of the coffee shop are an elderly couple who retired here because they loved the small welcoming feel of this town. Mr. and Mrs. Hastings.
I have to admit I liked it when they called me dear. It’s been a long time since I had that endearment said to me. They welcomed me when I told them I was new to town, and promised I would see them, often. The man at the bank was a little overly friendly, but harmless (I hope).
I think I need to rethink my wardrobe. From the look on some friendly yet curious faces I think I stick out a bit. It could just be that I’m a new face. Or it could be my high heeled platform sandals. I will have to think about getting myself a few pairs of cowboy boots.
That seems to be the “go to” attire here. But I like my sandals, and thankfully I am comfortable in being my own person. But some of the cowboy boots that I have seen are pretty cool too.
So even though I stick out (a little), people have gone out of their way to smile and say hello. I throw a fake smile back at them, I have had practice with this, and at this point I bet my smiles are believable.
I continue to walk perusing the stores. At the end of the strip I stop at a little store. Covering my eyes from the sunlight I look up at a beautiful hand painted wooden sign that says “Maggie’s Dream.” There are a multitude of different flowers painted on it. I pull open the door and breathe in the scent of wood and varnish.
I love this store immediately. I must have been standing there breathing in deep with my eyes closed for a moment too long when I hear, “I love the smell in here too.”
I quickly open my eyes and feel my cheeks heat from embarrassment. Who stands in the foyer of a store with their eyes closed? Me, that’s who. After mentally slapping myself (again), I look to the woman who spoke to me.
Immediately noticing that she’s stunning, and I say that in a non lesbian way (not that there is anything wrong with lesbians, I’m just not one and I even noticed how spectacular this woman looks). She’s around my age and is smiling at me. Her long black hair is pulled up but pieces are falling to frame her face, and it works for her. She has bright blue eyes that are currently laughing at me.
“I’m Maggie.” She say’s and grasps my hand shaking it.
“Laura, nice to meet you Maggie.”
“Well, from your accent I can tell you aren’t from around these parts, are you new in town, or just passing through?”
Usually I don’t offer any personal information about myself. A protective instinct since living in a big city with a lot of dangers lurking around many corners. But this is a new town, and if I want to make any friends I will have to give a little of myself too. So I do.
“New in town, just moved into the cottage on the Thompson ranch. And I don’t have the accent, you all do.” I tease her smiling.
Maggie chuckles at my comment, “Lucky lady, that is one hot landlord you have, and as good as he looks, he’s a great person too.”
“Tell me about it.” I cringe after I realize I admitted this out loud. “But I don’t think we’ve bonded yet.”
Maggie looks at me but then laughs, and it is a contagious laugh because I find myself giggling with her. It has been so long since I allowed myself to smile, let alone to laugh that it sounds rusty even to my own ears.
I then feel guilty for feeling happy, I immediately stop laughing, and try to smile, but it doesn’t quite work. Maggie looks at me quizzically but doesn’t pry. For that I’m grateful.
I turn around quickly letting myself peruse the store from my spot. I do this because I feel my heart start to race and an uncomfortable feeling is starting to form in my stomach. I need to distract myself and at the same time I don’t want Maggie to think I’m a wack-o.
“This is such a great store you have. I am assuming from the name it’s yours.”
“Yeah, I opened it up a little over a year ago. I guess I am pretty new to town too considering most people have been here for generations. I decided to give it a go and open up this store, it has always been a dream of mine, and viola! Here I am.”
Even with her happy attitude, I notice that Maggie seems to have her own demons lurking behind here eye’s too. I guess it takes one to know one. But Maggie cover’s it up with a quick smile and starts to point out different things in her store.
I love it, it’s amazing. She has everything from an assortment of throw pillows (which I intend to purchase), picture frames, vases, candles, and throw rugs. There are a few pieces of wood furniture that look handmade and beautiful.
Maggie rings up my purchases of two new throw pillows, a scented candle and a purple vase with pink flowers painted on it. “Well, welcome to Pleasantville, I hope to see you around soon.”
“Oh, you’ll see me around. I love your store. You may see me so much you may think I’m a stalker.” At this comment Maggie pales. Immediately I feel like an ass, once again. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?” Instinctually I grab Maggie’s hand on the counter. Maggie smiles and gives an exaggerated shiver.
“No, not at all honey, just some old skeletons that haven’t left my closet yet.”
“I’m sorry, (I smack myself in the head, and I do it a little too hard)….ouch.”
This causes Maggie to giggle, “Don’t worry about it. We all carry a little luggage with us through life. I think that’s what makes life interesting, most of the time. It’s just when you find yourself
carrying the same amount of luggage as a samsonite factory that you have to worry.”
It’s at this moment I come to a decision that I like Maggie. I decide to make a friend I need to let her in a little, to tell her something personal.
I lower my voice, almost like I’m telling her a deep secret, which really I am “I decided to follow my dream too, I make jewelry. That’s why I was able to move here, away from……things…..and start over.”
Maggie looked thoughtfully at me, thankfully she again doesn’t pry. I think she realizes that what I just gave her was hard for me.
“That’s awesome, what kind of jewelry do you make?”
“I mainly use silver, that’s my favorite medium; I add gems, stones or anything that strikes my fancy at the moment. Gold sells well in some stores. Sometimes I change the medium and use leather, or cord with the silver and gold. It was just a hobby until my sist…., (I caught myself, I am not ready to go there yet, if ever) until I was convinced it was good enough for retail. I decided to approach some stores and now proud to say it’s in quite a few retail shops.”
Maggie looked at me like she is trying to figure out my secrets, then just smiles. She definitely caught my fumble, but was kind enough not to comment on it.
“I’d love to see your jewelry, maybe I can make a display and sell some here.”
“That would be great.” I smiled at Maggie and make plans to return the beginning of next week.
As I am about to turn and leave Maggie say’s, “I know its short notice, but there’s a bar called ‘Claytons’ a block over that me and a few girls from town get together at on Friday nights, you should join us. The Clayton brothers own it. It’s a great bar. You should come join us, meet a few of my friends. We sit towards the back, drink a little, and laugh. It’s a good time, nice way to relax and end the week.”
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