I prop the handle against the woodpile, leave the ax head for later, and go inside to make coffee. Coffee usually fixed everything, or at leastit helped.
While the water heats, I sit at the kitchen counter and write a short list of today’s errands.
Pick up the plant order from the garden center. Drop off the donation bin at the church. Grab Bo’s prescription refill from the pharmacy since he’d mentioned it twice and forgotten about it both times. Stop by Ethel’s for the pie Mom requested, since Dad had a good PT report, and dessert is the Williams family's love language.
It is a short list, and I should be home by ten-thirty, max. See, easy morning.
Bo left over half an hour ago and was still out running when I left. I make a mental note to grab him fries from Ethel’s. His stay-home prize. It softens the blow when I tell him Dad’s field sprinkler broke and I’ll need his help.
With only three errands and my list in hand, I leave the house and make it all the way to the post office before I opened my water bottle. The cheap, worthless plastic twists as I took the lid off, spilling water on my jeans. Yep, just another rolling moment.
Next up is the garden center, only a few blocks from the post office, so I head over.
I park the truck, and when I got out, I see that Michael is behind the counter helping his dad, which always makes me smile. He is ten years old and helps out on weekends for some extra cash to fix his motorcycle. He looks up when I came in, and his face brightens.
“Miss Falon.” He comes around the counter. “Okay, so here’s the thing. I have good news and some not-so-good news.”
Apparently, the universe was bent on testing me today. “Okay, Michael, hit me.”
“The good news is, half your order is right here.” He points to a flat of herbs near the window.
“Andthe not-so-good news?”
“The not-so-good news is,” he drops his voice to a whisper and leans in slightly, “I put the rest of your order somewhere really safe. I just have to remember where that was.”
I press my lips together, then chuckle. “Okay.”
“I swear, Miss Falon, I’ll find them today. Can you come back tomorrow?” He glances toward the back of the store, where his dad is moving bags of mulch. “And if maybe you didn’t mention to my dad, just until I find them. That would be?—”
I put my fingers to my mouth and pretend to zip them closed. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks, ma’am.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, kiddo.”
He exhales. “See ya.”
Finished at the garden center, I get back in the truck, check it off my list, and set my sights on the church. Sister Patty meets me at the side door, seeing me coming through the window.
“Falon Williams.” She smiles widely. “Bless your heart, we’ve been waiting on this one.”
“Sorry it took me so long.” I hand over the donation bin. “It got away from me.”
She waves that off before I finish saying it. “Honey, it got here. That’s what matters.” She peeks inside at the cans of food and the blankets, humming in appreciation. “I’ll make sure these go to the Hendersons. They just had that rough patch with the roof.”
“Perfect.” I turn to go.
“Tell your mama I’m praying for you guys and your daddy’s leg,” she calls after me.
“I will. Thank you, Sister Patty.”
With the church stop done, I had the pharmacy next. Lucky for me, it is right across the street.
The bell above the door dings when I came in, and Dawson looks up from behind the counter.
“Aw, Miss Falon Williams.” He greets me with a smile, already reaching under the counter.
“Falon,” he says, setting the prescription bag on the counter with both hands, “boy, am I glad to see you. I have called that man three times.”
