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“We’re closed,” Andie says, not losing eye contact with me.
Neither of us moves. The water soaking our shirts feels more like super glue. We’re stuck together, and neither of us wants to get out the nail polish remover. After only three days, I want this girl. I know this is not going to end well, but I can’t tell my heart that. My stupid, stupid heart is going to get broken again. I promised myself I wouldn’t fall for someone who didn’t have the same goals as me. I know exactly what Andie’s all about. She hasn’t made it a secret, and I am already falling for her. She’ll be gone soon, and I’ll still be here in the same place I was two years ago.
“I know, but I’m here for my leftovers.” With hands stuffed in his pockets, Stanley drags himself up to the counter.
Great timing, Stan.
Andie jolts away from me. “Oh. I almost forgot. Yes, we have lots. Pardon the mess. My plumbing is leaky. I mean not mine, but the sink.”
Stanley grins for a second before his mouth pulls back into a tight line.
Andie rushes around the store, not making eye contact. From underneath the counter, she pulls out a Tupperware container filled with muffins. “As strange as it may seem, people don’t seem to like my baking as well as my grandmother’s. It’s probably for the best. I won’t be in business much longer.”
Ouch. Kill me now and get it over with. Stanley waves and stuffs his face with a muffin. He’s too lazy to cook, and Jolene works long shifts at the hospital, so it’s either go hungry, or eat Andie’s leftovers.
She points to the pile in the trash can. “The trash is full of charred globs of crap not fit for the rattlesnakes creeping down Main Street.”
I slide onto a barstool next to Stan. “So, whatcha been up to? You seem bummed about something. I mean other than the heartburn that muffin is giving you.”
Andie pops me on the shoulder with a dish towel and gives me the death stare.
Between bites, he replies, “I think they’re gonna lay me off at the plant.”
That’s odd. I’m on the town council, and I usually know these things before the public does. “I haven’t heard about any layoffs.”
Stanley stuffs another muffin in his mouth. Andie pulls out a pitcher of sweet tea and pours glasses for all three of us. Stanley guzzles his down and slides his glass over to Andie for a refill, which she obliges.
“It’s only me. Seems like the big company that owns the plant in Boston...” He spits that city’s name out as if it is poison and stares at Andie. “They don’t want someone without a high school education.”
She nibbles on a fingernail.
I crunch down on an ice cube. “I thought you got your GED a while back.”
He dives into a third muffin. At least they won’t go to waste. It means a lot to me that Andie has a soft spot for Stanley. Just because he doesn’t make much money doesn’t mean he has to go hungry.
“I tried, but I didn’t pass. Not good with tests.”
Silence fills the room. Andie drums her fingers on the counter, and tears well up in her eyes.
“But hey, don’t worry about that,” he says. “Something will turn up. I got connections.”
I pat him on his sweaty back. He’s such a decent guy. I hate how hard the situation is for him. “I’ll let you know if I hear of anything. I’ll put in a positive word for you. You’re a hard worker.”
He swallows the last bit of edible food and stands, dusting off the muffin crumbs onto the floor. He guzzles the rest of his iced tea and burps. Classy.
“Thanks, man, but I’m okay. Andie, thanks for the muffins. Not bad.”
She gives him a thumbs-up. “See you tomorrow night for more leftovers?”
“Yeah.”
“Stanley, I’m really sorry.” Her voice quivers.
He waves as the chimes jingle at his departure.
I pick at a hangnail, and Andie rubs the dish towel over the same spot on the counter again and again. A Boston company is laying him off, and even though she has nothing to do with that company and his situation, I can tell she feels guilty by geographic association.
“I feel like a damn Yankee.” I detect the slightest Southern accent seeping into her words. She rubs the counter again, and if she doesn’t stop, she’s going to wear a hole right through it.
I reach out and squeeze her hands. She stares at our joined hands before she braves a glance my way.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “He should have stayed in school. Getting a high school diploma isn’t that hard in this town.” As if on autopilot, I rub the backs of her hands with my thumbs. She doesn’t jerk away. I could easily tug her over the counter, and we could continue that wet T-shirt contest we started before Stanley interrupted us, but the mood is gone. It’s just as well.
“I feel so awful for him.”
“He’ll find work.” At least if I can help it.
She pulls her hands away from mine and crosses her arms, focusing on the trash can. “No, I mean, he ate all those muffins. God, he’s going to be sick tomorrow.”
I chuckle, and I guess now is as good a time as any to leave. She follows me to the front door.
I turn to face her. “Good night, Andie.”
She bites her lip and stares at my mouth. Before I can stop myself, I lick my lips. I swear I see her pupils dilate.
“See ya.” Andie takes a peek behind her. “And thanks for the... mess.”
“Where are my manners?” I take a step back toward the kitchen. “I should help you clean up.”
She holds up a hand to stop me. “No big deal. I’ve dealt with more water than this.”
I snap my fingers, remembering what I need to tell her. “One more thing.” I pull out my phone and search for the Jacksons’ blog. “I think you should see something.”
I hand her my phone, and she sucks in all the air in the room. After a moment of near hyperventilating, she reads aloud from the blog. “Miss Andie Carson, granddaughter of the late Mary Grace Carson, has taken Smithville by storm. Not only is she rude to her customers by threatening to destroy their phones, she’s disrespectful to the only employee willing to work under harsh conditions that only someone from a big city would approve of.”
She blinks away tears and grips my phone so hard, I think she’s going to smash it.
“Don’t read any more. It’s only trash talk.”
Andie groans as she collapses into the nearest booth. “Her antics have not included drinking yet, but we’re sure since she doesn’t have sense enough to wear shoes or even the simplest common sense as to how to shut off a water valve, we are pretty sure her drinking ways will be here soon enough. However, if her inability to pay for something as inexpensive as plumber’s tape is any indication, she has probably already spent her way through her inheritance. Tsk. Tsk.”
If the Jacksons weren’t so old and I wasn’t nice, I would have them arrested. This isn’t helping one bit in convincing Andie to stay. If I weren’t from here, they would scare me off too. I hold my hand out to retrieve my phone, but she rotates so her back is to me.
She reads the rest in silence before relinquishing my phone. Andie clears her throat, throws back her shoulders, and juts her chin in the air. “They ‘tsked’ me. How rude. But at least they didn’t post the picture of my ass in the air while I was cleaning up the place.”
Before I can stop myself, I rub little circles on her back with my hand, and her head falls back. “A silver lining in an otherwise rusty situation. You didn’t do anything wrong, and you certainly didn’t do anything to lose the money coming to you.”
“Not yet.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your attorney knows you’re working hard if he doesn’t have anything better to do than follow their blog.”
Her shoulders slump as she chews on the inside of her cheek. Damn, that woman is growing on me. And this is really, really bad. If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to make sure she gets her money. If it means hovering over her every move, I will, even if it means she won’t stick around afterward. She’s going to sell the property, leave town, and I’m going to be left with a broken heart and a dried-up Main Street. The town may recover at some point, but I don’t think my heart will. Not this time.