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“MAKE SURE YOU WEAR your life vest this time,” Elliot said. “I don’t want any more stories about your sister jumping in to save your sorry butt.” He laughed.
Tommy, the short, fair-skinned, freckle-faced, twelve-year-old grimaced, his face turning the same shade of red as his hair. “She didn’t have to jump in and save me. I was fine. The cold water just startled me, is all.”
Elliot glared at the young man.
Tommy sighed. “I’ll wear the vest,” he said, taking his change. He turned away, dragging the gray life preserver behind him like a death sentence.
Elliot chuckled and moved from behind the registers toward the back of the store. A huge order of camping gear would be there soon, and he needed to be sure the entire inventory arrived. After all, it was that time of year again and running a business in a small-town relied on the tourist season. The water had always been something he loved, but it was his livelihood now. Soon, locals and tourists alike would cruise the aisles for camping, fishing, and boating gear, and as one of the only major outfitters within a twenty-mile radius, Pymatuning Outfitters would profit.
Elliot whistled on his way to the back of the store. He loved his job. Or rather, his business. He passed rows of sportswear, apparel, and meandered through the vast fishing section. Not a day went by that he wasn’t amazed all of this was his. His luck at living his dream never ceased to thrill him. Well, half of his dream anyway. The professional and business portion of his life couldn’t have turned out better. The old saying, do what you love, and the money will come, proved to be true. The personal aspect of his life, on the other hand, hadn’t turned out the way he had hoped. He had no one to go home to at the end of the day, no kids to greet him, only an empty house and a yellow Labrador.
Pushing through the double doors, he entered the storage area of the store. A whoosh of cool, damp air hit him, and despite the soft glow of fluorescent lights, the room was dark. He passed rows of stacked boxes, equipment, and inventory. The loud blare of a horn sounded, making him smile. His timing was perfect.
He reached the end of the room and grunted as he threw up the large metal lever. The single metal door groaned as it slowly lifted to the loading dock outside. Once the door finished retracting, the open back of a semi, along with Harold, his usual delivery man’s pudgy form, came into view.
“Anderson,” Harold bellowed in greeting. He wore khaki shorts and a dark blue button-down shirt, his large stomach straining over the belt. Despite his appearance, Harold’s physical abilities seemed uninhibited by his girth.
“Hey, there,” Elliot said, moving to the back of the truck to help.
Both men unloaded the dock in quiet synchrony, using the dolly for some of the stacked boxes while lifting others. To Elliot’s amazement, Harold hadn’t broken a sweat. With the amount of physical labor required in his job, Elliot surmised that a physique like Harold’s must require downing a lot of cheeseburgers.
Elliot withdrew his order from the back pocket of his jeans and compared it with the inventory. Once he was satisfied, he took the delivery receipt Harold offered him, signed it, and gave it back.
He shook Harold’s hand, excited to dig into the boxes and unload his goods, but like always, Harold was in the mood to talk and in no hurry to move onto his next delivery.
“Should be a nice one,” Harold said, looking out of the loading dock from under his ball cap.
Elliot squinted into the light. “Yeah. It’s a beauty today. Should be good for business,” he said, hoping Harold would catch the hint. He had a business to run and work to do.
“Yep.” Harold turned towards Elliot, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He looked at the ground, then back up at him again. Screwing his face up, he wore an expression like he smelled something foul, giving Elliot the distinct impression he had something he wanted to say but pondered how best to say it.
Elliot put his hands on his hips and waited—there was no rushing Harold.
“You been up to the Dodson farm lately?” he asked, meeting Elliot’s gaze.
Elliot knew Harold well, not only through business but when Elliot’s parents relocated to Andover, he moved within minutes of Harold and his two sisters. The small-town atmosphere and their business relationship led to easy conversation amongst the two.
“It’s been a little while. Maybe a month or so.”
Harold shook his head and looked away. Elliot fought his rising impatience. Running a hand through his blond waves, he decided to give Harold a nudge. “Why? Is everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. The farm’s doing well, and the new market they’re building looks real nice. It’s almost done. They’re just finishing some details and painting, but it’s sure to be a real nice place.” Harold paused, looking down at the toes of his scuffed work shoes. He took a deep breath, puffed his chest like a peacock, and said, “I saw Lexie yesterday. She was out there working in the fields.”
Elliot’s eyes sharpened, his pupils focusing into pinpoints on Harold’s round face.
“I guess she’s staying for a while. Isn’t that something? Hardly visiting after all these years, and suddenly, she shows up pregnant and wants to stay a while,” Harold blurted before his eyes rounded and his face turned red as if he’d said too much.
Pregnant.
Elliot’s mouth turned to dust, and his arms fell to his sides. Air wheezed from his lungs. His mouth opened, and for a moment, he wondered if anything would ever come out. “Oh,” he said.
Harold stepped forward, his hands fluttering in front of him. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to just blurt it out like that. I probably shouldn’t have even said anything. Ah crap, Maria’s going to kill me,” he said, referring to his equally pudgy wife—known to have a penchant for scolding her husband and his big mouth.
Elliot swallowed hard, willing some composure back into his frozen features. “Well, that is something. A real surprise.” For Harold’s benefit, he somehow managed a smile. “I’d better get back inside,” he said, gesturing toward the store.
“Okay. Hey man, again, I’m sorry.”
Elliot shook his head and hooked a thumb inside. “Nah. Don’t worry about it. I’ve just got...a lot of work to do inside.”
He turned around, leaving red-faced Harold standing on the loading dock. He made a beeline for the swinging doors to the inside of the store, his inventory all but forgotten.
He was fine. At least that’s what he tried to convince himself.
Lexie was back. She was pregnant. And he was fine.