His chuckle was warm and brought back good memories. “What do you need, Matty?”
“I think I’m going to need to reorder what I got last time.” I fretted, because I didn’t know how much Charlie ate and wasn’t sure if I’d have enough. “Maybe I should double it.”
Mr. Gianetti clucked his tongue. “You’ll never go through that much food in three months,” he told me. “Best to keep your order light and reorder if you need more.”
That idea wouldn’t work. It took me long enough to deal with getting new things in the house. Plus, if the weather did turn bad, the likelihood of someone reaching us dropped drastically. “I think I need to, sir. If we get snowstorms, it might not be possible to deliver here.”
“We have snowmobiles. I promise, one way or another, we’d get to you, Matty.”
And he probably would. The man would move heaven and earth to do something for his customers, including procuring special items for me. It’s how he kept growing his business in such a small town. Like the hospital, people came from the surrounding counties because of Mr. Gianetti’s willingness to help them. In the town, Mr. Gianetti was the closest thing they had to a true rock star. But the thought of someone coming up this way reminded me of the man sitting on my porch and the accident he’d had.
“I appreciate it, sir, but I think I’d be more comfortable knowing I had it on hand.”
Mr. Gianetti sighed. “Okay, if that’s how you want to handle it. I hope you have enough space for everything.”
Space was one thing I had plenty of. My pantry was huge and would barely be half full after the canning I was doing. There were two large chest freezers where my fish and any other game I took got stored. The house would have been large enough to house a family of three easily, so there was plenty of room.
“I do,” I assured him. “I know this is short notice, so if it takes longer to—”
“The order will be there in two weeks, just like I promised. Sometimes you need to have a little faith, Matty.”
That was something normally in short supply around here. “I’ll try, sir.”
“Now, is there anything else you need?”
“Um… not that I can think of.”
“What about… you know, protection?”
I laughed. “My brother is sheriff. I think I should be okay on that front.”
Mr. Gianetti coughed. “I meant more… personal protection. Something to keep you safe in case….”
Oh. Shit.“Oh, God no.” I could feel fire rising in my face at the thought.
“You have to be safe, Matty. You’re my favorite customer. I need you around.”
“There won’t be any of… that,” I assured him.
He made ahmmsound, then said, “I’ll pack it. If you use it, you can thank me later.”
I just knew those wild eyebrows of his were waggling.
AFTER Ifinished with Mr. Gianetti, I canned my first batch of vegetables. Because of the lateness of the day, I decided I would have to wait until tomorrow before I could continue. This threw off my schedule, and the thought had my chest heaving. I tried to calm myself, but there had been too many new things for me to deal with today. I went around the house and did my basic routine, and that relaxed me some, but not as much as it normally would.
I went out on the porch and found Charlie with his head thrown back, mouth wide open. He looked… oh, hell. Adorable was the only word I could come up with. He was snuggled beneath the blanket, clutching it to his chin. I found it strange that seeing him lying out on the porch calmed me more than the routine I’d just put myself through.
I went back inside to start dinner. Tonight would be fresh fish, dredged in flour and spices, then fried nice and crispy and served with fried potatoes and onions from the garden. I loved living up here, away from everyone else. Dependent on myself, mostly eating what I caught or grew. But having Charlie here had me thinking that if I lived closer to town, we could have seen each other more. Maybe we could have gone to the cafe, had a nice dinner. Spent some time together to get to know each other.
“Something smells delicious.”
His voice surprised me. I turned and splashed grease on my hand. I cried out, more from shock than anything else.
Charlie yanked the door open and did his best to wheel himself inside. He made a beeline for me and clasped my hand, staring at it intently. “Stick your hand under the cold water,” he instructed.
I did as he said. It sent prickles along my arm, but eventually the throbbing stopped, which I found myself grateful for. But what really astonished me was that he hadn’t turned my hand loose. While I had it under the water, he held my forearm, moving my hand gently, ensuring that all the red spots were covered.
“I’m so sorry,” he murmured, taking my hand and drying it with the dish towel he’d pulled from the counter.
