If Avery wasn’t so adamant that she wasn’t a clumsy person by nature, Joyce would not have struggled so much not to laugh as Avery fumbled with her keys, trying to unlock the front door. After all, she was injured and being supported by Joyce while she attempted the task. And she quite possibly may have been losing some of her confidence at the prospect of ushering a complete stranger into her home, while unable to comfortably walk on her own. Her lack of composure did not go unnoticed by Avery, who gave her a pout with sharp eyes at least twice before she successfully unlocked the door.
“Just so you know, this is a new lock and it’s still stiff and awkward to open.”
“Okay, Avery.”
Joyce chuckled as they stepped over the threshold, then instantly blushed as Avery whacked her in the stomach with the back of her hand, which realistically was the easiest part of her body for Avery to land a strike, given their current position. But the contact felt too familiar and intimate, even if doled out in frustration.
“Are you going to tease me all day?”
“All day? No. I only agreed to help you for a couple of hours.” As they stepped into the living room, Joyce whistled at the stacks of unopened boxes surrounding the living room furniture. “At least you got the TV set up. Got to have your priorities in order.”
Avery laughed and shook her head. “For your information, Joyce Peterson, it’s not set up in a manner that I can actually use it. The cable company hasn’t come yet and I haven’t found my DVD player yet. It’s essentially just a dust collecting piece of electronic art at the moment. But what if it was set up? Are you saying I don’t deserve to indulge in some entertainment from time to time?”
“It was a toothless jest. I fully support getting your television set up. We all need outlets to unwind and recharge. Okay, what do you want to do? Do you need to sit, or are we going to try to find your DVD player and movies?”
“Both. Sorry, but my ankle is really bothering me. I think I need to ice it.”
Joyce steered Avery to the short, dark gray microfiber sofa, and after helping her sit, she squatted to take Avery’s right sneaker off. She was gentle and watched Avery’s face for signs of pain. Only a single wince momentarily blemished her bashful smile. After setting the shoe aside, Joyce looked at Avery’s ankle, tilting her head side to side while she held her calf and ankle cradled in her hands.
“Remarkably, you didn’t scrap or cut yourself at all, but your ankle is a little swollen. You should elevate it while you ice it.”
As Joyce stood and laid a throw pillow on the farthest cushion, Avery shifted her weight to sit sideways and carefully rested her injured ankle on the pillow.
“Permission to snoop in your freezer for ice?”
Avery smiled and nodded. “Permission granted. There are sandwich bags in the top drawer next to the fridge and clean hand towels in the second drawer.”
“Okay, I’ll be back.”
When Joyce found the kitchen at the back of the small cottage, she smiled. Avery did have her priorities in order. The coffee maker, a toaster oven, a neatly arranged crock of cooking utensils, and a few storage canisters were placed in their new homes on the counter. And she was willing to bet that, given the lack of boxes in the kitchen and dining room, the cabinets were filled with her dishes, cookware, and hopefully food. She resisted the inappropriate impulse to spy to satisfy her curiosity. Instead, she washed her hands, grabbed a sandwich bag and towel from the directed drawers, then filled the bag with ice from the ice maker in the freezer.
Avery had spread out more and was lying with her head on the other throw pillow when Joyce returned to the living room. She gently lifted the young woman’s foot, placed the towel-wrapped bag of ice in its previously occupied space, then eased her ankle onto the cool pack.
“How’s that? Any sharp corners poking you?”
“No, it’s fine, thanks. So, uh, I appreciate that you agreed to help me unpack, but you don’t have to stay, if you have other things you want or need to do.”
“I’m content to be here and help if I can. But if that was your polite way of deciding you’d rather not have a stranger looking through your personal things, I completely understand. Is there anything else you need me to do before I leave? Do you need a drink or is there something else I can grab for you?”
“No, that’s not it. I mean, it’s not like I have anything to hide. I just don’t want to put you out. I could really go for something to drink though. My throat is really dry.” She placed a hand on her stomach, and groaned, “Food would be amazing too. Do you know a good pizza delivery place?”
“I do. What would you like me to get you to drink?”
“Iced tea. It’s in the fridge. The glasses are in the cabinet by the fridge. With ice, please.” Joyce nodded and turned to leave, and just as she disappeared around the corner, Avery called out, “Help yourself if you need a drink too,” which slightly elevated her spirits after the seemingly abrupt end to the day’s turn of events.
Although she thought the request was bold, Joyce had actually been looking forward to helping the younger woman unpack and learning more about the kind of person she was, what interested her, and where she had traveled for work. She was interested to know why the younger woman had chosen Harbor City, of all places, to settle down.
The small lakeside town wasn’t necessarily a retirement destination. The demographic was quite diverse, but the age groups of homeowners and renters weighed more heavily toward individuals and couples over forty. The real estate industry in Harbor City didn’t have a very quick turnover rate for sales. Rentals were a bigger portion of the business, especially short-term leases, particularly in the spring, summer, and autumn. Harbor City was a beautiful place away from all of the hubbub of the big cities, while still offering great dining options, a small playhouse that put on a new production every couple of months, plenty of activities to do on and around the lake, as well as some great hiking trails. And if one wanted to do something in a big city, they only had a forty-minute drive along mostly scenic roads to get to one.
But what about Harbor City appealed to Avery West – travel journalist, Joyce wondered.
When Joyce returned to the living room with two glasses of iced tea, she was further relieved to see that Avery had sat back up on the sofa to give Joyce just enough room to sit on the farthest end.
As Avery accepted the glass, her fingers lightly overlapped Joyce’s for just a moment in the transfer, and she smiled up at Joyce, saying, “Thank you. Sit with me?”
“Of course.”
Joyce sat down, and after taking a few sips of tea, she reached forward to grab two coasters off a stack in the center of the coffee table and set them in front of her and Avery so they could rest their glasses.
“Are you hungry?”
Joyce smiled as she sat back in her seat. “Sure, pizza sounds good. What’s your favorite?”
“What’s yours?”
With a breathy snicker, Joyce answered, “The garden pizza from Pete’s Pies.”
“Oh, come on, you have to say that name with the awful stereotypical fake Italian accent so it really sounds like they intended it.”
“I’m not sure if I should be impressed that you caught that on your own, or if you conned me by asking for a good pizza place because you already knew about Pete’s.”
“Be impressed. Very impressed. Now, come on, give it to me. Let me hear your bad Italian accent.”
With a laugh, Joyce cleared her throat, then repeated Pete’s Pies in a terrible New Yorker Italian accent so it sounded like Pizza Pies.
Wearing a sort of proud and flirty smile, Avery mockingly clapped a few beats. “Very nice, Joyce Peterson. I dare you to call and place our order with that same accent.”
Joyce laughed hard and shook her head. After holding Avery’s challenging gaze for several breaths, she groaned, “Okay, fine.” Avery’s face lit up, which made Joyce chuckle again. “What would you like to eat?”
“Possibly the garden pizza. What’s on it?”
“It’s a thicker crust with white sauce, a four-cheese blend, peppers, mushrooms, spinach, and sundried tomatoes.”
“Sounds tasty. Do they have chicken tenders?”
“They do.” Joyce held her forefingers about five inches apart. “They’re about this long. How many do you want?”
Avery bit her grinning lips, then licked them as she leaned over to grab her iced tea off of the coffee table, and with her voice jumping with a hint of amusement, she answered, “Probably three. And I like honey mustard if they have it.”
There was no need to ask Avery what had tickled her. Joyce understood that by thoughtlessly measuring the invisible chicken tenders for her, it had spawned a sexual thought. Asking her to confirm it would surely open a can of worms. And Joyce was carefully skirting around that rattling can as best as she could because no good could possibly come from allowing its contents out into the world. At least, not her little corner of it.
Joyce pulled her cellphone out of her purse, and while avoiding meeting Avery’s watchful eyes so she wouldn’t lose her composure, she hit the call button on the saved contact for Pete’s Pies. With the call on speaker so Avery could listen to the entire interaction, they waited for two rings, before Pete, her friend and the owner of the shop, answered using his comically bad New Yorker Italian accent.
“Hello, Pete’s Pies, what can I get for ya?”
Joyce nearly lost it when Avery buried her face in the bend of her right elbow to stifle her loud laugh. Using the same bad accent, Joyce answered, “Hey, yo, Pete, I gonna take a large garden pie, and a six-piece chicken tender platter with honey mustard.”
Staying in character, Pete repeated her order back to her. “Alright, I’ve got a large garden pie, a six-piece chicken tender platter, and a side of honey mustard. Any drinks or dessert? We’ve got some,” he made a chef’s kiss sound, “cheesecake, rice pudding, and brownies today.”
Avery gently nudged Joyce’s elbow with her toe, and whispered, “Cheesecake.”
“Alright, yeah, sure, Pete. Give me a slice of that cheesecake.”
“Fantastico! Pick up or delivery?”
“Delivery.”
After Joyce gave him Avery’s name and address, he repeated the order back one more time. And after Joyce confirmed it was correct, Pete chuckled into the phone, and losing the bad accent, he said, “Alright, Joyce, one of my boys will be over with your lunch in about thirty minutes.”
In her own voice, she answered, “Thanks, Pete. Have a great day.”
“You too.”
When she hung up, Avery nudged her elbow with her toe again, and told her, “That was hilarious. Thanks for doing that. I take it Pete is a friend?”
“One of my best. He actually is Italian and speaks it fairly well. But he’s a character and gets a laugh out of playing the stereotype.”
“That’s funny. I’ve been to a few different provinces in Italy. And on every trip, there was at least one group or pair of American tourists who thought that by adding that accent to English magically made them fluent in Italian. This one group of college guys did that in Cecily to a gelato vendor. The vendor was hilarious. In perfect English, he told them, ‘I don’t speak assholery, so pick English or Italian or get the hell out of my line.’ It was great.”
“Nice.” Joyce chuckled, and asked, “What did the college boys do?”
“They were mostly good-natured about it. They ordered their gelato in English and got on their way. Watching some of the antics of American tourists traveling abroad always gives me a sense like…” Avery tilted her head to the side in a thoughtful way for a moment, then continued. “It’s like when you run into that one really annoying and embarrassing acquaintance while you’re out in public. You know everyone is staring and judging you just for being remotely associated with them. And all you want to do is scream, I do not claim this person!”
“That’s another detail about you that I’ll have to keep in mind.” Avery smirked at the toothless threat to embarrass her in public when the opportunity arose. “As a travel journalist, I would imagine those embarrassing scenes would be great material for writing some articles on how not to behave.”
Avery nodded while taking a sip of iced tea, and after swallowing, she confirmed, “I’ve written about a dozen for various print and online publications. That’s a go-to topic for spring and summer since those are the prime travel times for most Americans.”
“A dozen.” Joyce’s eyes momentarily widened in surprise. “I’m sure you’ve saved many well-intentioned tourists from making a fool of themselves, and by relation, the rest of us. Thank you for your service in preserving the image of Americans abroad. Your country appreciates you.”
Avery’s head fell back with a loud, cackling laugh that caused joy to physically bubble in Joyce’s belly so strongly it created an odd tickling sensation, like when the stomach flips and flops while driving over a sudden, short hill at a relatively high speed.
“Oh, man, that was a good one. Although, now you’ve got me thinking I should be charging much more for those particular articles.”
“Writers in general are usually vastly underpaid, so I’d agree that’s a line of thought you should give more credence to. Do foreign destinations make up the majority of your writing portfolio?”
“I wish. The ratio between US and foreign destinations is probably seventy-thirty, maybe a few more percentage points for the US. I write freelance, so I have to cover all of my own expenses. Well, most of the time. Every so often, a travel agency, resort, or cruise ship company will hire me to do a promotional piece for them and they cover all of my expenses. Finding great deals on hotels isn’t usually too hard. Airfare is usually the factor that decides where I go. Traveling abroad takes a ton more planning and money, so I usually try to group my trips to limit my intercontinental flights. Once you’re on land somewhere else, you can usually get a regional flight, bus, or train for pretty cheap. My last trip abroad focused on central Europe, lasted four months, and included Prague, Vienna, Budapest, Kyiv, Berlin, and a bunch of lesser-known cities and villages between. It was an incredible trip.”
Avery released a small laugh as her cheeks blushed and she momentarily looked down at her lap. “Sorry, I’m probably giving you way more information than you wanted.”
“Not at all. Your work sounds fascinating.”
“Have you ever been outside of the US?”
“Many times, but my passport probably hasn’t gotten around quite as much as you have.” Avery snickered and bit the right corner of her mouth, and Joyce mentally cursed herself for the accidental double entendre that inched her closer to that rattling can of worms. “I have hit every continent though.”
Again, that flicker of amusement crossed Avery’s face and that rattling can seemed to grow in size. As much promise as this turn of events seemed to offer in giving Joyce control over the English language so she could make progress in her manuscript, her brain was still having difficulty in linking just the right words.
But much to Joyce’s relief, the younger woman kept the conversation platonic. “You’ve been to Antarctica?”
“Okay, I’ve been to nearly every continent.”
“Same for me. An Antarctica cruise has been on my travel wish list since high school. The opportunity just hasn’t been right yet.”
“If you write freelance and can spend a four-month stint in Europe, what’s the obstacle in going to Antarctica? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“It’s very expensive without much opportunity to recoup some of the cost. The typical package is around ten-grand per person. And that’s such an amazing experience that you definitely want at least one person with you. I mean, I love traveling alone. But some trips and experiences are just better with a friend. Expensive trips like that can be hard to sell articles for because the typical reader can’t afford it, so it’s not going to generate enough ad revenue for the publisher. Going to Antarctica would probably end up being solely a personal vacation, one that I need to save for. I’ll get there one day.”
Avery leaned forward, sort of reaching for her ankle with a wince, so Joyce swiftly shifted in her seat, and asked, “What’s wrong? Is the pain getting worse?”
“The ice is starting to burn my skin.”
Joyce gently lifted Avery’s leg to pull the ice pack out from under her ankle, and asked, “Do you want to ice the top or take a break completely?”
“I think I need a break.”
“Okay, I’ll put this in your freezer for later.”
Just as Joyce took a few steps away from the sofa, Avery quickly said, “Hey, Joyce,” so she turned back and waited. “Thanks for helping me and for hanging out. I’m having fun talking to you.”
Joyce’s agreement with that statement was plain as day on her face, but she nodded, and confirmed, “Me too.” She turned around to bring the ice to the kitchen, then turned back and added, “And I meant it before – if you want help unpacking, I still have time to spare today or tomorrow.”
“I’ll probably take you up on that tomorrow.”
With her chest pleasantly warmed from the genuine gratitude glittering in Avery’s eyes, Joyce left the room mentally thanking the universe again for the plot-twist it tucked into her life.