Actions Speak Louder

by Rosemarie Naramore

  “Oh, sure, follow me.” She took him directly to the tool aisle, pointing out the assortment of hammers. He picked one up. It featured a pink handle with a coordinating polka dot ribbon tied to it.

  His brows furrowed into a frown. “They make hammers specifically for women now,” he said in surprise, studying the shiny tool and testing its weight.

  “Absolutely,” she told him. “And they’re big sellers.” She flashed a grin. “I wouldn’t necessarily recommend you buy that particular hammer since your buddies may give you a hard time, but…” She gave a shrug. “If you like it, then by all means… Who am I to judge?”

  He glanced at her with alarm, and then put the hammer back on the hook where it had been hanging. “No, I’ll stick with your standard, run-of-the-mill variety,” he said, giving her a baleful look as he pulled one off the rack.

  “It’s probably for the best,” she agreed, forcing back a smile.

  He gave her a questioning glance. Was she teasing him? When he saw the sparkle of humor in her eyes, he knew she had been. He reached for the girly hammer again. “I think I will pick this one up for my sister.”

  She nodded. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  He cocked his head, thinking. “You know, I can always use a new tape measure.”

  Chapter Two

  Ethan tossed his purchases onto the front seat of his truck. He’d made a quick decision to check out the hardware store, after having met Marcia earlier. He’d purposely not driven his work truck, for fear she’d see his business logo on the side. He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to take steps to conceal his identity from her, not that she cared who he was one way or the other, he conceded.

  He did wonder, was she married? He recalled the name of her store. “Better Half.” Usually, the term applied to the female component in a marriage, but then, that didn’t necessarily have to be the case. Maybe the name had no relevance to her at all. Maybe she had simply kept the store name when she bought it.

  He glanced over at the bag containing the hammers and tape measure. What had possessed him to buy them? He only had a hundred or so of his own, and most were of far better quality than these. And as for the pink hammer, his sister Holly would probably use it to clunk him upside his head.

  Although she could wield a hammer with the best of them, having been taught by their father, she was a girly girl who had little interest in strapping on a tool belt. But then, why would she? Her husband worked alongside Ethan at his company, E. J. Winslow Construction, so she had a live-in handyman.

  Shaking his head ruefully, he knew what had possessed him to buy the items. It had been a means to see Marcia again, to check out her place of business, and to get a better sense of her as a person.

  He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger, although he knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything. In her line of work, it was safer to forgo wearing jewelry of any kind. She could always catch a ring on a sharp edge, which could cause real damage to a finger or hand.

  Did she have a husband? He sure hoped not. Wow, he thought, what the heck was happening to him? Since when did he become so intrigued by a woman he’d just met that he tracked her down at her place of business and made unnecessary, impromptu purchases?

  The fact was, six months before, his serious, long term relationship had ended—well, his ex had ended it. It was too soon for another relationship, or to even contemplate another relationship.

  But then, this woman was a polar opposite to Gwen. He shook his head as he tried to envision her in a pair of overalls. There was no way his pristine and polished former girlfriend would be caught dead in workwear, let alone a pair of overalls.

  Ethan headed back to his corporate offices, ducking in briefly to grab some correspondence from his desk. He left as quickly as he’d arrived. He was on vacation—the first in too many years to count. Having spent the last ten years building his business, he’d had little time for play—at that had been fine. But at the urging of his family, he’d taken some time off, leaving the business in the capable hands of his brother-in-law, Thomas. He couldn’t deny, he needed a break.

  Not that he was going to have much downtime during his vacation. Having been willed the bungalow by his recently deceased grandmother, he planned to spend his time fixing it up. Once done, he intended to live there. Of course, that meant selling his high-rise condo, but that suited him fine. The home had never suited him. It had, however, suited Gwen.

  He arrived back at the bungalow, parked his truck in the driveway, and jogged to the covered back porch. He took the steps two at a time, stopping midway just long enough to study the dilapidated structure. Like the rest of the house, it was in sad shape. The presence of the carpenter ants only added insult to an already injured house.

  Stepping into the mudroom, and then into the kitchen, he came to a stop and did a slow turn. The sight of the run-down room never failed to bring him to a pause. The renters who had lived here the last four years had definitely taken a toll on the place. These folks hadn’t cared a whit for it, essentially letting it fall down around them. But then, they had no reason to have any pride in the home, since they had no ownership—though he had to admit that he was confounded by their total lack of regard for someone else’s property. Additionally, they had lived here, so he would have thought they would have taken better care it.

  A feeling of guilt washed over him. Why hadn’t he kept better tabs on the condition of the place? He or other family members should have evicted the renters within months of their move-in date and brought in responsible tenants. Why hadn’t he been more concerned about the state of his grandmother’s home?—a home where he had spent so much time as a child.

  He knew the answer. He’d been too focused on his business, on his own life to give much thought to a tiny bungalow across town from his condo. He smiled sadly. “I’ll take care of it now, Grandma,” he vowed, aloud. “I promise you.”

  He would restore this place for his grandmother, and only then would he turn his full attention back to his work.

  ***

  Marcia locked the door to the hardware store and flipped the sign over. The closed side now faced outward, and she heaved a sigh of relief that it was time to go home. She was eager to get there, since she was taking care of her neighbor’s Dachshunds, Allie and Tootsie, and the dogs needed to be fed their dinner.

  She was always delighted when her neighbors, Dan and Tammy, asked her to watch the dogs. She loved both animals, although Allie was perhaps her favorite. The twelve-year-old loved playing fetch, and never seemed to tire of the game. Marcia likened her to the Energizer bunny. Unlike Allie, Tootsie wasn’t keen on the game of fetch, but was a cuddle bug who liked nothing better than to curl up in her lap. Marcia had to admit that coming home to both animals was far better than returning to an empty house.

  When her neighbors often urged her to get a dog of her own, she assured them that watching their dogs gave her the best of both worlds. She got to enjoy them and then send them home.

  Besides, her work schedule just didn’t allow her enough time for a pet. Perhaps if the right one came along—maybe a well-trained older dog—she would keep it, since she might be able to take it to work with her as a sort of store mascot. It was something to think about. But not right now.

  “See you tomorrow!” Angie called to her from the back of the store.

  “Okay. Have a great evening!” she called back.

  After locking up the registers and shutting off the lights, Marcia headed to her car parked out back. She drove home, which was only a few short miles from the store.

  As expected, when she arrived there, the dogs greeted her enthusiastically. Allie promptly picked up a tennis ball in her mouth. “Let’s go outside first,” she said, using the higher-pitched, happy voice she reserved just for them. “And then dinner, and then later, play!”

  The dogs obediently trotted beside her and out the back door. Although the yard was fenced and they would be fine without her, she fo
llowed them anyway and sat down in a chair beneath her covered patio. Her eyes did a quick pass over the back lawn. It needed mowing, and her rose bushes were in dire need of TLC. Maybe she would make time for yardwork the upcoming weekend, but then, maybe not.

  When she had bought the store, she had believed she understood what she was getting herself into. She had to concede now, she hadn’t. But she also had to acknowledge that the pace of owning and operating a business kept her mind and hands busy—which helped her to deal with the demise of her marriage.

  She had truly believed in the forty-year plan when it came to matrimony, and her ego had taken a blow when Jay had left her.

  Sometimes, she felt like a failure, but knew it was ridiculous to entertain those feelings, since marriages ended all the time. Perhaps it was because she knew in her heart she had made every concession for her husband—altered her personality, grew compliant and overly accommodating to him—none of which he had appreciated—that made her feel so angry at herself.

  She vowed never to make the same mistakes again. She’d learned a valuable lesson during her nearly five years married to Jay—that actions speak louder than words. And while Jay could talk the talk, he had never walked the walk. She knew in her heart of hearts she had done everything to hold her marriage together. So, why then, couldn’t she forgive herself?

  When Allie dropped a tennis ball at her feet, Marcia was both startled and relieved. The astute dog seemed to know exactly when to intrude on her thoughts in order to distract her from the pain. “Okay, we’ll play,” she said, picking up the ball and tossing it across the lawn.

  The beauty of a game of fetch with Allie was that Marcia could remain seated, which suited Tootsie, who promptly jumped into her lap. She remained in the chair, stroking Tootsie with one hand and tossing the ball for Allie with the other.

  She gave the ball a good toss, when to her surprise, Allie darted off toward the fence, howling at the top of her lungs. Marcia rose, gently putting Tootsie down, and together they walked toward Allie. She spotted Ethan at the fence, his arms resting on top of the wooden boards.

  He gave a wave, and she smiled somewhat uncertainly, since she wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk or not. When he grinned at her, she decided he must, so she crossed the distance between them.

  At the fence, Allie continued to howl, until Ethan began talking soothingly to her. The dog quieted, but still regarded him with suspicion. Tootsie, on the other hand, struggled desperately to insert her nose through a small knothole in the fence.

  “They’re cute,” he said, smiling at the dogs.

  “They are,” she agreed.

  “How long have you had them?”

  “Oh, unfortunately, they’re not mine. I’m dog watching for my neighbors on the other side.”

  He nodded. “I’ve always been partial to Dachshunds,” he said with a wistful expression. “My grandmother had one when I was a kid.”

  Marcia nodded, and glanced around uncertainly. “Was there … something you needed?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, smiling ruefully. “I, uh, located a nest of carpenter ants. I wondered if you might want a look.” He refrained from mentioning to her that he’d located it days before. Once again, he felt a pique of conscience, but the fact was, he wanted a reason to talk to her. And he knew the mention of the bugs would get her attention.

  “You did? Will you show me now?”

  “Absolutely. Come on over.”

  She dashed across the lawn and to the gate leading to her front yard, the dogs at her heels. Since both were well-trained, neither left her as she hurried next door. She was thrilled at the prospect of learning the whereabouts of that darned nest, since maybe they could eradicate it once and for all.

  She met Ethan beside his back porch. He was crouched down, near a faucet currently dripping water. Marcia knew the ants were drawn to moisture, and knew it would behoove him to repair that leaky faucet.

  She bent down beside him and winced. She immediately spotted several ants milling around the base of the foundation, many trailing up the crumbling concrete and under the ancient siding. There were so many ants, there had to be a nest on that porch.

  She rose, and he did the same. He met her gaze. “What do you think?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not good.” Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a screw driver. “Do you mind?”

  “Go ahead.”

  She bent over and inserted the screw driver, and gently probed the wood. It was apparent the house had ants, but it also had extensive dry rot. She rose with a sigh. “So … the porch probably needs to be replaced,” she told him sympathetically.

  She started walking around the side of the house. He followed her. The dogs followed him. She bent down again, at a basement window, and carefully probed the window encasement, finding it was spongy. She glanced over her shoulder at him.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  She stood up and tried to keep the expression of horror off her face. She couldn’t find the words to answer him. He faced a huge job if he wanted to fix up the place. She wondered if he’d considered tearing it down and starting over.

  She walked around to the front of the home, glancing up at the roof. It was moss covered, and several shingles were missing. Even the untrained eye would have seen that the roof needed replacing.

  “I figure I’ll tear off the roof and start over,” Ethan said, and she met his gaze and nodded. Rather than enter a discussion about the condition of the place, or rather, the poor condition of the home as a whole, she opted to focus on the carpenter ants instead.

  “If you’d like, I have a nontoxic powder that you can use to get rid of those ants. The truth is, I don’t know how bad your infestation is without doing a more extensive search, but I’d suggest you get the powder down ASAP.”

  He nodded. “You really don’t mind loaning me some?”

  “Not at all. I’ll get it for you now.” She turned to walk back to her place and he followed. The dogs trotted happily alongside him.

  At the garage, she pressed the code on the keypad, and the door rose with a groan. “I’ll be just a minute.” She turned her attention to the dogs. “Don’t wander off, girls.”

  As Marcia searched for the powder, wondering all the while if she’d left it in her backyard shed instead, Allie dashed through the open gate to the back yard to retrieve her ball. When Marcia finally located the power and left the garage, she found Ethan tossing the ball for the exuberant older dog. The little Dachshund appeared delighted to have made a new friend. Tootsie also appeared smitten with Ethan, since she was presently relaxing in the crook of his other arm.

  Marcia’s eyes widened in surprise. “They don’t typically take to strangers,” she told him, incredulous.

  “Really? They seem so friendly.”

  She frowned. “Huh.”

  He quirked a smile. “Huh? You almost seem … disappointed.”

  She shook her head. “It took me weeks to win them over, and animals always love me.” She shook her head again. Had she really just said that? “I mean…”

  “If it’s any consolation,” he cut in, “my family members call me the animal whisperer.”

  “Oh, well, that probably explains it,” she said, giving him a perplexed glance. “Do you … have a pet?”

  “No, but I’d like to get one. When this place is done, maybe I will.”

  “Are you fixing it up to flip it, or…?”

  He glanced over at the crumbling cottage. Marcia noted the hopeful sparkle in his eyes when he spoke. “I’m seriously considering moving in.”

  Chapter Three

  Monday morning came too quickly for Marcia, as she rose from her bed with a groan. She’d taken the entire weekend off, intending to get several do-it-yourself projects done around her place, but it turned out her new neighbor’s home improvement issues were more dire.

  She had spent the better part of her Friday evening helping Ethan try to eradicate the carpenter ants. The ne
xt day, he had spotted her in her back yard pulling weeds, and had quizzed her on her opinions regarding the merits of a composite roof over shake. Sunday, he had inquired if she had any particular opinions about paint colors, specifically how color affected one’s mood.

  If she didn’t know better, she would have thought he was fabricating reasons to spend time with her—particularly with that last question. He could have easily consulted the internet for answers to any one of them. Besides, he seemed chipper enough, but then, who knew? Perhaps he suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder. She knew one thing for certain—he was definitely lacking confidence.

  Marcia figured he was probably one of those poor men who were challenged when it came to home repair, and likely all things mechanical too. Jay had been like that. He could take something apart but could never manage to put it back together. It was that very flaw in him that had been the impetus for her to learn home repair.

  Jay’s answer when something needed to be fixed or replaced was to call “the guy.” Well, she had fast learned that “the guy” was always expensive and always seemed to take advantage of their lack of knowledge. Being proactive, she had remedied that by purchasing her very own tool kit. Her knowledge had expanded from there, as she had perused home improvement stores asking questions of the onsite experts. Perhaps that’s why she was willing to avail herself to her new neighbor. She really couldn’t fault the man for asking questions.

  As she swung her legs over the side of the bed, she heard the sound of hammering coming from next door. She winced, hoping Ethan wasn’t doing more harm than good with his efforts, because one mistake could lead to a myriad others when it came to home repair. Perhaps she should give him the name of a good contractor, but then, she really didn’t want to offend him. He seemed fairly determined.

  Casting aside her worries for him—she had enough of her own—she turned her attention to the sweet faces of her canine house guests. “Morning, girls!”