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Damn it, here he was trying to find some simple bolts for the new picnic tables, and his mind had circled back to Sophie again.
He needed to focus. Work came first, leaving no room for foolish, juvenile thoughts.
As he headed back to the counter, Macy was swiping a customer’s credit card and chatting about the unseasonal heat with it only being April. Once the man was gone, Zach set his items down on the counter.
Macy knew to put everything on his account. He paid it off monthly, but this way everything he purchased was on one itemized receipt for the month.
“So what was this favor and business proposition?” he asked as she slid his bolts into a small brown sack with the store logo on the front.
“When you built the Clevengers’ house, you had designed it too. Right?”
“Yes. They didn’t like anything they’d seen in books or online.” The bag crinkled as Zach gripped the top. “They liked portions of various ones, so I drew up the plans to their specifications.”
“Could I make an appointment with you to discuss some house plans?”
“I wasn’t aware you were thinking of building.”
“I don’t want to live above the store with my dad forever, no matter how state-of-the-art everything is up in that apartment.” She shrugged and smoothed her hair behind her ears. “I’m in no rush, but I’d like to get the ball rolling when you have time.”
When he had time? That would never happen, but for a friend he would certainly make time.
“Why don’t I come by here one evening around closing? We can discuss your ideas then.”
A wide smile lit up her face. “That would be great. I know you’re busy with so many other things, so don’t feel pressured to rush this. Like I said, I’m in no hurry. I’ve lived upstairs with Dad my whole life. A few more years won’t matter.”
Stepping back from the counter, Zach gripped his sack and headed for the door. “I’ll call you and we can figure out what day works best.”
“Thanks, Zach.”
He stepped out into the bright midday sun and headed down the wide sidewalk toward his old beat-up work truck. As much as certain people in the town grated on his nerves, Zach supposed he’d be miserable anywhere he lived. Why not live in an area that thrived when so many others were tanking? All of the local shops were bustling at any given time of the day. Cafés, boutiques, downtown loft apartments; Haven had so much to offer.
People took pride in their stores, their homes. All the storefronts still had that vintage feel with the wide windows and displays, bright-colored siding, and li
ttle concrete stoops with oversized pots of flowers provided by the city and kept up by the garden club.
Zach jerked the handle on his truck and slid in behind the wheel, pulling his creaky door shut with a slam. Braxton still lived in Haven, but Liam had moved to Savannah. Zach had nowhere else to go. This was it for him. The Monroes had given him roots, something no one else had ever done, and in all honesty, he wouldn’t have a clue where to go.
Getting all nostalgic was absurd. He fired up the engine and eased out onto the two-lane street, watching for pedestrians. Since Chelsea had passed, he kept running through those deep meanings of life. What was his purpose? Was he meant to just go through the motions of day-to-day living, serving other people while this anger and guilt raged inside of him? Would he ever find peace with himself?
Shit. He cranked up his radio on his favorite heavy metal station and turned onto Vine Street. He had to get his head on straight or he’d drive himself nuts. He planned on finishing his workday so he could head over to Chelsea’s old apartment. The landlord had told them to take their time getting Chelsea’s things out, but apparently now he had new tenants who were hoping to move in by the end of the month. Now Zach had to fully face that she was gone. Sorting through her things was going to be a difficult task, and he wasn’t going to ask Liam or Braxton to help. The last thing he needed was for either of his brothers to see him break down.
Because, of all four siblings, Zach had been closest to Chelsea. She always knew what to say, when to say it. She didn’t let him mope or start to slip into self-pity over his past. She’d plunk right down on the window seat in his room and lay it out there. She’d been so wise as a teen, when she’d tell him the greatest days of his life were happening right now. The Monroes were the parents she’d always dreamed of, and if he was going to keep reflecting back on his past, he was stealing the joy from now.
Damn, she’d been right. And after their heart-to-heart talk, which always left him feeling stupid and ungrateful, she would either whip up a batch of cookies or ask if he wanted to head out on the dirt bikes. You just never knew what her mind would think up for fun. Chelsea was certainly not a predictable woman. But she was loyal and she’d loved with her whole heart.
There was no doubt in Zach’s mind he’d not be able to get through her apartment without losing it. And with his unstable emotions now, he preferred not to have an audience.
He’d only broken down three times in his life: when each of his parents had passed, and when he turned Sophie away that first time she came to visit him in jail.
With Chelsea gone he was due for another, and he just preferred to be alone . . . like always.
* * *
Filtering through the clothes in Chelsea’s closet was both painful and amusing. Sophie slid the hangers one after another across the bar, remembering different events with nearly each piece. Like the black halter dress Chelsea had deemed sexy and sure to get her a man. Too bad that when Chelsea set her eyes on the guy lounging at the bar, she’d made her way to him and fallen flat on her face, taking a waiter and a tray of drinks down with her. By the time she’d gotten to her feet, the man was gone and Sophie had nearly doubled over with belly-cramping laughter.
Sophie slid her hand over the shoulder of the purple sweater that she’d bought for Chelsea’s last birthday. Seemed so silly now to look at the knitted garment. Sophie knew how much her friend loved purple and had bought the cardigan without hesitation. Had Sophie only known that was going to be Chelsea’s last birthday, she would’ve bought something a hell of a lot more special than a useless, boring sweater.
She carefully slid the sweater from the hanger and folded it on the bed, next to some photos of them as teens and adults, as well as a pencil sketch of the Eiffel Tower Chelsea had framed and hung in her bedroom.
