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Maybe then, I wouldn’t have been run over by a runaway love train.
As he places the chairs on either side of the table, I deposit the tablecloth on one of them. I’ve got a small, wrapped gift locked away in the side panel of my desk that I’ll bring over as well. Jill’s own little St. Michael pendant. It’s more feminine than mine, but still on a long gold chain. The thought of it dangling between her perfect breasts is a sight I’m not willing to give up. Essentially, this gift for her is also a gift for me.
He places his wooden chair down and leans inside the storage room, his eyes flicking about. This isn’t an area of the shop I usually let anyone enter but Sampson. George points to several pieces of artwork. “Shit, man. This is all you?”
My face falls, and I give him a curt nod. All but one of Sampson’s that’s covered by a tarp.
“You’re wasting your gift on this furniture nonsense. These should be in a museum somewhere.”
I’m taken aback by his words. George may be an odd duck, but he’s been a reliable employee and a fine craftsman. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Yet I’m not sure many people would agree with you.”
“Well, I’m not the most cultured fella in the world. But if I can see it, I’m sure a bunch of rich artsy yuppies would shell out big money to look at them.”
This is probably the most shocking thing I’ve ever heard George say. And that’s saying a lot. I unwrap a new lollipop and place it in my mouth.
I notice George giving me a blank look, questioning whether his services are still needed.
“Go, go.” My eyes land on a pallet of new packages by the loading dock.For fuck’s sake.Not again.“What is that?” I’ll have to get Sampson to figure that out tomorrow. I’m not ruining the mood I’m in dealing with that shit again.
“What?” George follows my gaze. “That?” He points to the pallet. “I think Leo signed for that.”
Who the hell is Leo?I’ve got to get my shit together.
George chuckles and points to the table and chairs set near my prized art. “Who is all of this for anyway? Some big wig?”
I can feel my face betray me before I can stop it.
George guffaws. “Just what I thought.”
I try to deflect. “So, what do you do to impress the missus?”
“See, I picked the perfect wife. She cooks, cleans, and don’t need impressing. Maggie would rather save for a rainy day than have me spending a dime on her. Hell, that woman is so cheap, she wouldn’t give a nickel to see Jesus ridin’ a bicycle.” George’s whole body shakes as he laughs out loud.
Having learned it as a child, my English is pretty good. But I don’t have the first clue what he just said. “Well, it’s my girl’s birthday. And I wanted to do something different for her.”
My girl?
He looks about the old shop covered in a layer of permanent burnt metal residue. “It’s different all right. We all done? Maggie’s making meatloaf.”
I wouldn’t want to stand in the way of that. “Thanks, George. See you tomorrow.”
He slaps me on the shoulder before turning to head for the door, snickering, “Luke done got hit by the love train.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Jillian
“Happy birthday, Mama!”Caleb squeals as I walk in his bedroom.
“Why, thank you. What a way to start my day.” I lean in for a hug, and he wraps his little arms around my neck and refuses to let go. Standing, I lift him up with me as he cackles in my ear.
“I want to give you the present I made you before I go to school.”
“Can’t wait, huh?”
“Nope. It’s awesome. Besides, Gammy told me yesterday her present to you is going to be a day all to yourself.”
I giggle. When you’re the single parent to three young children, a day to yourselfisa gift. She offered to swing by my house, pick up Truitt and meet the kids at the bus stop so I could spend the afternoon getting ready for my birthday date with Luca.
