“And now I learned that the pipe screws back on.”
“Well, you might want to pack up that stuff and take it back.”
“I will, thanks again for your help.”
Bobby walked to the door. “You aren’t married?”
Grace shook her head.
“Dating?”
“No, why?”
Bobby paused again at the door. “Can I buy you that latte?”
“Would seem kind of unfair since you hooked me up by screwing my pipe.”
At that second Bobby burst into laughter.
“What? What’s so funny?’
“You’re cute.”
As if she had been stunned, Grace replied with a shocked, “Thank you.”
“How about you buy me the coffee then since I screwed your pipe.”
“Ok, but it’s gonna have to be after I take back this stuff. I’m a hundred and sixty bucks in the hole.”
“I’ll help you,” Bobby said.
After retrieving the bags and the receipts, Bobby and Grace packed the items for return and walked back to the hardware store.
++++
His eyes were dazzling blue and even more translucent when they caught the sun as it peeked through the café window. His hair was a dirty blonde, and although it was a bit too wavy to get a true style, short and cropped worked for Bobby Dawson. He was the first, real, everyday guy that Grace had ever spoken to.
She spoke to George, but not for extended periods of time. He didn’t seem to want to be bothered. Maybe he didn’t want to mix business with pleasure.
The closest thing she had to speaking to an everyday normal guy was when the man at the shooting range used to flirt with her. Even then, the extent of that conversation was, ‘thanks’, the only word spoken by Grace.
It was the only word she needed to speak to him.
But with Bobby, she had started to ramble.
“Why Bargain-Mart?” he asked. “Not that there’s anything wrong with working at Bargain-Mart, but surely you had skills to find …” he saw her shake her head. “You don’t have skills.”
“Not really. As I told you, the story is I was a stay at home woman before the nasty divorce.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You say, ‘the story is’, what’s up with that?”
Grace hadn’t realized she was even doing that. Perhaps it was her subconscious effort to not lie to him. “Bobby, can you keep a secret?” she played with the stirrer in her latte.
“Yep. I’m the best at that.”
“Sometimes people just need to run away from their lives. They have to get away. Just move forward, leave it behind. You know. I didn’t do anything wrong, just had enough of my life and wanted a fresh start. Freddy, too.”
“Now I buy that story.” Bobby said. “That makes sense. Sort of like what Marybeth did.”
“Yes. Yes.” Grace paused. “You know Marybeth?”
“Oh, yeah, she’s a great gal. Stops in the hardware store all the time. Grace, this is a small town. We know everyone. Even if we don’t know your name, we know you and will give a title to you. For instance you and Freddy are that odd new couple.”
“That’s what people say?”
“Oh, yeah. Odd meaning, not bad, but different. When my mom referenced you, she said, ‘you have to go help that woman,’, when I asked which woman, she said, ‘the one half of that odd couple’.”
“I’ve always been odd.”
“That’s good.”
“What about you?” she asked. “What do you do?”
“Besides work part time at my parents’ store. I am in the reserves and I am a painter.”
“Oh.” Grace held her chest. “An artist, that’s so wonderful. I love art. I love all kinds of art,” she rattled. “You name it. I have a fine appreciation and I believe that all art is good.”
Bobby shook his head.
“All art isn’t good?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m a painter … I paint houses.”
Grace replied, “Houses, fruit, people, it doesn’t matter …”
Bobby laughed. “Grace, I …. I …you are so right. You’re right.”
“See.” She smiled. “I’m an artist, too. Well, sort of, I’m a writer. Well, sort of, I want to be a writer, I just started writing. Not sure if it’s any good. I used to write poems and essays, never books. I’m writing a book. Or started it. Just started. That’s what I was doing when my pipe broke.”
Bobby gave a twitch of his head from the fast rambling. “You write books?”
“Book. A singular. And not really, I just started. It’s a conspiracy novel.”
“That’s cool. That’s really cool. I love to read.”
“Do you read a lot?’
“Actually, yes.”
“Can you help me?” Grace asked. “I mean, I don’t know if I’m doing it right, or if it’s any good …”
“Absolutely, I’d love to. Print me up some pages.”
Grace grinned. “Thanks. You are very nice Bobby Dawson; it is a pleasure to meet you. Wait until Freddy meets you. He’ll love you. Not in a gay way. Maybe in a gay way. but he won’t even mention his gay way attraction. That is unless of course you’re gay. But you’re not gay. Or are you?”
Bobby laughed and shook his head. He grabbed his coffee and sipped. “I’m not gay.”
Grace exhaled.
+++
Marybeth dropped him off before driving the two houses down to her own. Freddy gleefully waved, high and about, then perky, he went to his home.
After opening the screen door, he paused. The front door was ajar.
“Grace!” he called out upon entering. “Princess, I’m back. I brought you a buttered popcorn.” Setting it on the table, he slowed down again. The coffee pot was not in the unit, the filter basket was laying on the counter and so was the coffee.
“Hello!”
Was she napping? So engrossed in her writing? Fearful of disturbing the wonderer of words in the middle of her masterpiece, Freddy walked to the bedroom portion of the trailer. She wasn’t there. “Princess?” He called out with worry.
No answer.
One more place to check, her office.
Grace wasn’t there either. Freddy darted outside, looked around, the car was there and he raced back into the house.
His heart beat stronger, blood rushed to his ears.
Immediately he was filled with dread. He ran to the living room and lifted the black phone.
“George. Oh my God, someone kidnapped Grace.”
“What!” George blasted in shock.
“I think someone kidnapped Grace. I got home, the car is here. She isn’t.”
“Maybe she walked into town?” George asked.
Freddy gasped. “Not with her injury. She can barely walk across the house.”
“Look, Fred, she hasn’t been kidnapped.”
“How do you know?”
“Because there are surveillance camera’s around the house.”
Freddy gasped. “Hello, I run around in my underwear, I wish you would have told me.”
“Not in the house,” George snapped. “Outside. When I’m not watching them, they are linked to someone in Akron. Trust me if it looked like she had trouble I would have been called.”
“She’s missing.”
“Maybe she went out with friends,” George suggested.
“She doesn’t have any. Not even at work. Everyone treats her like Stephen King’s Carrie.”
George chuckled. “She’s fine.”
“I don’t know. My instincts …”
“She’s fine.” George hung up.
Freddy looked at the receiver with a gasp. “Bastard. Well.” He inhaled. Folding his arms, he stood in thought.
Grace was missing.
George wasn’t helping.
Freddy certainly was going to make George’s superior aware of that.
But first, Grace.
He
had to find her. Make sure she hadn’t been taken against her will, laying someone, dead in a ditch. Perhaps with clothing, perhaps not. Either way she would be in a visually unbecoming position.
Shuddering with fear, Freddy knew what to do. He left the house.
‘Where is everyone?’ Freddy thought when he stepped inside the Lodi Police station. He thought it was odd that the door was on the side, and when he walked in, the reception area was dark.
“Hello!” he called out and walked to the window.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked.
Freddy turned and looked.
She walked like a man, and frightened Freddy just a tad. The forty year old woman wore a police in uniform and was actually quite attractive. Freddy didn’t know what intimidated him more. The way she did that ‘John Wayne’ adjusting of her belt, or that she probably still used Aqua Net Hair spray to keep her hair big and in place.
“Yes, are you a police officer?”
“I am.”
“You’re lovely.” In a habit he learned, like Grace from Bargain-Mart, he looked at her name tag. “Theresa.”
“Thank you. What can I help you with?” she asked
“I’m a mess. I’m worried sick. My friend is missing. Gone. I need to file a missing persons report.”
“First, calm down. Usually these things all work out. We’ll find your friend.” She pulled out her tablet. “Name?”
“Freddy Lincoln.”
“How long has Freddy been missing.”
“Oh. Not me. Her. Grace. Grace Berkowitz.” Freddy corrected.
Theresa erased and wrote. “When’s the last time you saw her?”
Freddy thought. “About three hours ago.”
Theresa stopped writing.
“What?”
“She’s only been gone three hours. How do you even know she’s missing?”
“Because she never leaves. She doesn’t have friends. The car is still there. She was supposed to be working on her novel. I went to see the new Julia Smith movie.”
“Oh, yeah? How was it?”
Freddy crinkled his nose and shook his head. “She’s too old for the role.”
“That’s what I thought when I saw the previews. Look, Freddy,” Theresa said calmly. “I know you’re worried. But give it some times. You …. You …” Theresa tilted her head. “Hey, you’re the new guy that just moved in with that blonde woman.”
“That’s me.”
“Is she the one missing?”
“Yes. Yes.”
“Not anymore, did you check across the street at the café. I just saw her when I went to get coffee.”
Freddy gasped out an ‘oh!’ and grabbed his chest in relief. “You are Lodi’s finest. Thank you, dear.”
“You’re very welcome.”
With dashing speed, Freddy ran from the police station, looked both ways and crossed the street. He felt very small town like when he raced across the park to the café.
As soon as he neared the coffee shop, he could see Grace sitting inside at a table by the window. Reaching for the door, Freddy stopped. He jumped back, and looked again at the window. His hands slammed to the glass, she was sitting with a man.
Grace saw him and waved.
Freddy walked in. “Princess, I was worried sick. I got home, you weren’t there, I searched.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d be back yet.”
“I thought you were kidnapped, I went to the police, filed out a missing person’s report. Met a lovely woman named Theresa with hard hair.”
Grace chuckled. “I’m sorry; I should have left a note.”
Bobby stood and extended his hand to Freddy. “Bobby Dawson. And you are?”
“Not as hot as you.” Freddy shook is hand. “Freddy.”
Bobby shook his head with a laugh. “You can join us if you like.”
“Is this a date?” Freddy asked.
Grace answered. “Coffee. The sink broke today and Bobby came and screwed my pipe back on.”
Freddy’s mouth opened, but before he could say anything, he pointed. “Dawson. Are you Polly and Clyde’s son?”
“Yes,” Bobby answered.
Grace asked. “You know Polly and Clyde?”
“Everyone does,” Freddy replied. “They own the hardware store. If you go out more often, you’d know this. She doesn’t get out, Bobby. How long have you two been having coffee?”
Grace looked at her watch. “Holy cow, over an hour.”
“You don’t say,” Freddy rubbed his chin. “Well, I’ll let you two be, I’m going back home. I got you buttered popcorn so you can eat and be inspired. I hear Anne Rice eats popcorn while she creates. Did she tell you she is writing a conspiracy novel?”
“She did. I can’t wait to read it,” Bobby replied.
“Bobby’s an artist.” Grace said. “Painter.”
Bobby winced and held up his hand. “I paint houses.”
“Bobby,” Grace said. “How many times do I have to tell you? Painting scenery counts.”
Freddy smiled. “Isn’t she just so cute, Bobby?”
“Actually, yeah.” Bobby smiled at her.
“Yes.” Freddy opened the door. “Oh, before I forget. As I was saying, she doesn’t get out much. She’s off this evening. You should ask her for a date.” Before any response could be made, Freddy was out the door.
Her hands shot to her face in embarrassment and Grace slid in the chair. “I’m sorry about Freddy.”
“No, he’s seems nice.” Bobby reached across the table. “So do you want to go out tonight?” He grabbed hold of Grace’s hand, sliding it down. “What do you say?”
“You don’t know me.”
“What better way,” Bobby said. “Besides, you’re new in town, cute, and I want to ask you out before Craig Barnet does.”
“Ok.” Grace smiled. “I’d love to go out with you. Sounds fun.” She paused and titled her head. “Who’s Craig Barnet?”
Bobby only responded with a waving finger, smile and a look of ‘you’ll see’.
+++
“That’s Craig Barnet,” Bobby pointed as he and Grace walked in the bar.
Craig Barnet wore a cowboy hat that tipped just perfectly down across his forehead. He looked like a cross between a country singer and movie star. As he walked by, women swooned.
The Hubba Balloo Saloon was the newest rage and establishment in the Medina area, Karaoke twice a week, the rest country music and dancing.
Peanut shells were on the floor, and baskets of peanuts set on the table. Patrons were encouraged to toss the shells.
A corral appeal, the Hubba had thick wood decor and thick wood tables.
Grace looked at the ‘No peanuts on the Dance floor’ sign, as she took her seat. “This is … this is interesting.” She looked around.
“You look like you feel out of place,” Bobby said.
“Well, I’ve never been to a country place before. Actually, I’ve never been anywhere where people drink beer out of bottles. Actually …” She said fluttered her lips. “I don’t recall being anywhere where people drank beer.”
“You’re kidding.”
Grace shook her head and watched Bobby sigh out and roll his eyes. “What?”
“Freddy said to take you some place country. This is as country as country gets. Was he starting trouble?”
“No, he just wants me to experience new things, that’s all. He wasn’t misleading you on purpose.”
“If you want to go …”
“No. No, this seems fun. Not sure I can dance. I ballroom dance, but ...”
“Ballroom dance?” Bobby asked with a snicker. “Really?”
“Yeah, took lessons. But I’m not sure I can country dance. I’d like to learn.”
“They have line dancing lessons here every Friday night, maybe you and I can go.”
Grace smiled. “Bobby, maybe you ought to see how this goes tonight before you make the determination that you want to see me again
.”
“Ok, you’re right.” He chuckled. “What would you like to drink?’
“You know what? I’m gonna try beer in a bottle.” Grace gave a single nod and folded her hands on the table. “Beer in a bottle for me please.”
“You got it. I’ll be right back.” Bobby walked over to the bar.
Grace took in the room. She watched that Craig Barnett. He kept looking over at her. Maybe he found her interesting because her hair wasn’t big. She absorbed the country music, trying to determine if she could dance to it and how.
“Here you go.” Bobby set the beer on the table. “One beer in a bottle.”
“Wow, this is so cool.” Grace lifted it.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get something to eat. I planned on taking you to dinner.”
“Sorry, Freddy made that delightful salad … but if you’re hungry. Why don’t you eat?”
“I may get wings. How do you like them?”
“What wings? Grace shrugged. “I don’t know. I never had them.”
“You never had wings? Ever.”
“Nope.”
“Wow. What a sheltered life. I’ll tell you what? I’ll get them mild to start off with.”
“Ok.” Grace was congenial.
“Be right back.” Again, Bobby dashed to the bar, this time Grace watched him, he spoke to the bartender, pointed at the table and hurried back. Sitting down, he lifted his beer. “To a great night.” He held it to Grace.
She lifted her bottle and clinked it with a snicker. Then came the problem. She brought it to her lips and paused. At first, she hovered her mouth over the opening of the bottle, then brought her lips down to the bottle. Paused again, lifted the beer to her mouth, and began to tilt it toward her. Before any liquid flowed down her chin. She stopped. “How does one drink beer from a bottle in lady like manner?”
Bobby smiled and slid a glass forward. He grabbed her bottle and poured the contents inside. “This is how.”
She giggled. “You’re funny.”
“Actually, Grace, no I’m not. You are.”
“No I’m not.” She sipped the beer. “Oh, this is good and cold. I never had beer before.”
“Ok. Stop.” Bobby formed a ‘T’ with his hands. “Never had beer, never had wings?”
“I just had Popeye’s fried chicken for the first time in my life.”
Charmed Life Page 8