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11
Will stood on Gretchen’s front porch, the bouquet of flowers he’d driven to town to get starting to droop as his impatience grew. He’d already rung the doorbell twice, and he twisted around to look behind him for the fourth time.
His truck sat behind Gretchen’s van in the driveway, so she had to be here. Right? He glanced to the left and then the right, but she owned enough land that he couldn’t see her neighbor’s houses.
“What will you do about it anyway?” he asked himself as he faced the January wreath on her door again. His hand twitched to ring the doorbell again, but he fisted his fingers into his palm to stop himself from doing it.
He took a step back and pulled his phone from his pocket, and he tapped a couple of times to get a call connected to Gretchen.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice made only of air. “I’m here, but I barely just got home, and I had to feed Elvis, and I’m not quite ready yet.”
Will smiled, because he just liked the sound of her voice. “It’s fine,” he said, all of his annoyance gone now. “I can wait.”
“The front door is open,” she said. “You can come in, and I’ll be right out.”
Will wasn’t sure he wanted to do that, but he didn’t want to hang out on the porch holding this ridiculous bunch of roses either. He looked down at them, and said, “Okay, I’ll do that.”
“I only need three minutes.”
“Take your time.” He ended the call and turned back to the door. He did twist the knob and go inside just as Elvis jumped onto the back of the couch. He gave the cat a hat-tip and took a moment to look around Gretchen’s house.
He hadn’t been inside until now, and it felt like a place she would live. The furniture was a dark bluish-gray, with plenty of pink and yellow pillows in the corners. The windows had matching curtains, and the living room in the front of the house where he stood, flowed right into the back of the house where the kitchen sat.
Elvis gave him a cat-glare and proceeded to lick his jowls and then one of his paws.
An island ran right behind the couch, and it held the kitchen sink. The fridge stood against the back wall, along with her range. She had a decent amount of counter space, and he expected to find a stack of mail or a vase of flowers or something sitting there.
He found nothing. The counters were completely clean, except for a cutting board and knife right next to the kitchen sink in the island. A couple of pieces of abstract art hung on the walls in the living room, which had windows on two walls, and a grandfather clock ticked on his left right beside the hallway.
There were no family pictures, and no knick-knacks. The TV sat dark, with the remote control lined up beneath it in a near ninety-degree angle.
Will had no idea what he was dealing with here. He didn’t consider himself a huge slob or anything, but Gretchen didn’t even have a hook to hang her keys on anywhere.
“Sorry.” Her voice preceded her down the hall, and Will lifted the flowers back to a position in front of him. She came into the kitchen, brushing her hand down the front of her blouse, which drew his attention there.
The fabric flowed like silk, and it reminded him of the pale orange he’d find in the perfect sunset. She wore a pair of navy blue shorts that went all the way to her knee, and a pair of bright white tennis shoes sat on her feet.
Will cleared his throat and stuck the flowers out a bit more. “Howdy, Gretchen.”
She looked up at him, her bright eyes wide and filled with some emotion he couldn’t name. She took a moment to breathe, and he watched her visibly relax. “Evening, Will.”
He stepped toward her, and they met in front of the clock. She clasped her fingers around the stems of the flowers as he leaned in and kissed her cheek. “You look fantastic tonight,” he said.
“I’m pretty sure I’m still sticky from head to toe.” She stepped back, now beaming at him. “Thank you for these. They’re beautiful.” She inhaled the roses, her eyes drifting closed. She opened them and swatted Elvis away from the blooms. “Did you finish your dinner?”
She went into the kitchen and bent to pick up the cat’s bowl. She put that in the sink with the cutting board and knife, doing it all one-handed while she held the roses. Then she got a vase down from the cupboard and looked at him.
“Sorry I’m so late,” she said. “We won’t be late to The Cabin, I swear.”
“It’s okay,” he said again. “Why were you late? I thought you left the shop at three on Wednesdays.”
“Jon booked this big party on Saturday,” she said. “And he had to make five hundred caramels, so I stayed after to help him.” She arranged the flowers in the vase and lowered it into the sink to fill with water. “And wow, you can not imagine the mess. It’s a retirement party, and apparently this woman has a lot of friends who like black licorice caramel.” Gretchen shuddered, which made Will smile and then laugh.
“You don’t like black licorice?” he asked.
She looked at him as she turned off the sink and raised the vase out of it. “Does anyone?”
“I mean, my daddy does.”
