Page 25 of Second Chances

“I can’t. She’s with her friend, and I don’t want to interrupt. I’ve read that women don’t appreciate it if you approach them when they are with friends.”

Josh raised an eyebrow as high as it could go on his face. “You’ve read? What do you mean you’ve read? Like advice columns and magazine articles?”

Henry sighed, “I’m not completely out of tune with the world, Josh. Besides, she’s too young for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s not looking for a man in his mid-fifties, I’m sure. An attractive, younger woman? She’s probably looking to date someone her age. Could probably even go younger.”

“Henry, I don’t know what you’re talking about—she’s in her fifties, too,” Effie corrected him.

“She is?” She exuded such youth and vitality that Henry thought Charlotte was in her mid-forties at most.

“Yes,” Effie assured him. “I know for a fact she got divorced when she turned fifty.”

“I told him he needed to get out more, meet more women,” Josh stated, shoveling more popcorn into his mouth.

“No, you don’t. Henry, don’t listen to your son.” Effie tossed a popcorn kernel at Josh. “You just needed to meet the right woman. Honestly, in the darkest days of my marriage, I never even considered that one day I would allow myself to be vulnerable again. And you’ve been single for so long, I can’t imagine what your mindset is. I understand how awkward you might feel.”

Is that what he needed to do? Allow himself to be vulnerable? Henry demurred. “Well, I can’t pick her up in a bar, in front of half the town.”

“But you do want to ask her out, right?” He gave a small nod, and Effie continued, “Charlotte’s a really wonderful person, Henry, the kind who will appreciate any effort you put forth.” Effie reached across the table to put her hand over his. “There aren’t many women I consider worthy of you, but Charlotte is.”

“I agree with Effie, as always. In any way I imagine my mother, I am pretty sure Charlotte is the complete opposite.”

“Well, I don’t know that we need to bring the past into this, but Josh is probably right, from what I remember as a kid about Melanie.” Effie put her elbows on their table and folded her hands together. “This is weird to be talking about her.”

“Weirder than discussing my dad’s love life?” Josh asked. “Speaking of my dear mother, have you heard from her recently? Since she asked to meet up with you, that is?”

“No,” he replied, “not since the beginning of the year.” How long would that peace continue? How would he even discuss the topic of his ex-wife with Charlotte if they started dating? He wasn’t as modern as his son, who had introduced Effie to his ex, Tess, and now the two women were friends.

“Well, let’s hope she stays silent. The last thing we need is for her to keep bugging you when you’re trying to move on,” Josh told him.

After the night at Shorty’s, Henry kept an eager eye out for Charlotte around town. “You could just call her, you know,” Juan advised him daily. His oldest friend at this point in his life, it was difficult to believe that the boy he had talked cars with on his very first day at the Grand Canyon had worked side by side with him for the last twenty years. When their jobs had finished four decades ago, Juan and Henry had exchanged phone numbers, probably without ever expecting to use them. Back then, of course, there had been no cell phones, so Henry had given Juan the number to his parents’ house. That was how, just two years after Henry opened his shop in Beverley, Juan found him. Recently divorced at the time from Angela, and recovering from his broken heart, he was riding his Harley-Davidson to the motorcycle rally in Sturgis when he pulled into Clover Lake on a whim, looking for Henry. Catherine Livingston steered Juan to Beverley, and five minutes after the two reconnected, Henry offered him a job at the shop.

“She’s busy with the musical.”

“What about going to the bakery in the afternoon, maybe when school gets out? Ashley says Charlotte stops by before play practice, gets one of those ham sandwiches. Says she’s crazy about them.” After Juan had started working at Check Care Auto, Henry had clocked how often his friend went to Ashley’s bakery. Eventually, Juan admitted it wasn’t the croissants he was interested in, but the owner. A year later, Juan and Ashley moved in together; the couple now had two teenage daughters.

Deciding his best course of action was to wait for the opening night of Grease, Henry hoped to catch her after the show to talk to her. He had planned on closing the shop an hour ago but was running late thanks to a stalled Buick. According to his ticket, he had only twenty minutes to get to the high school auditorium, making it impossible to run home and take a quick shower. After he finished cleaning the oily remnants of work from his hands, he dried them off before almost colliding with Juan upon exiting the auto shop’s bathroom.

“Henry!” Juan exclaimed. “I thought you already left! Doesn’t the musical start soon?”

“Well, the doors open in,” Henry checked his watch, “fifteen minutes, and I still need to get out of my coveralls.” Luckily, he had dressed in his nicest pair of jeans this morning, pairing them with a simple long-sleeved t-shirt a deep royal blue color. “The musical starts in forty-five minutes.”

“Not that you want to be on time or anything.” Juan followed Henry to his office. “And you’re still planning on taking flowers, right?”

“Yes,” he replied, carefully pulling off the denim coveralls that kept his street clothes from getting dirty. Thankfully, Flower Power was one block over. “April is holding them for me.” Was it normal for an adult man to be jittery when he was on his way to watch a bunch of teenagers sing “Summer Nights”?

Juan whistled. “Looking good, my friend. She won’t be able to resist you. Now get out of here. I’ll lock up.”

“But you and Ashley need to be there early, too, right, since the girls are in it?”

Juan shrugged. “We’ll get there in time. Besides, Lucia said she doesn’t care since she’s only in the chorus, and Kara told us she’ll die of embarrassment if we sit too close to the stage. Teenage drama queen. Makes a perfect Sandy. Anyway, ¡vamos!” Juan pulled Henry in for a quick hug before rushing him out of the shop.

The show was spectacular, thanks to Charlotte’s creativity and the overall joy she possessed, Henry was certain. He wanted nothing more than to be in her light, soaking up the rays of her positivity. At the back door of the high school, Henry waited for Charlotte, holding the bouquet of yellow roses to his chest. Raised eyebrows, questioning looks, and sideways glances were thrown his way as the actors exited. He didn’t care because he had spent endless nights imagining holding her soft cheeks, brushing his mouth against her dewy lips; the thought of her in his arms frequently kept him from sleeping soundly. Desire warred with his conscience too often as his body burned for hers in the midnight hours, with cold showers his only hope for peace.

Checking his watch, Henry noted the time was after ten, which meant the play had been over for more than half an hour. Had he erred in waiting outside for Charlotte, hoping they’d have more privacy there, instead of backstage at the theatre? Eventually, Del Johnson, head custodian for Beverley High School, exited. “Henry? Are you waiting for someone?” Del, owner of a faulty Ford Expedition that was in his shop at least once every few months, was anywhere from sixty to eighty, and he wore a look of mild concern.