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He shook his head. “Actually, she was the one who suggested I make you assistant manager in the first place.”
I stared at the man like he’d sprouted a second head. “No, she didn’t.”
He nodded. “Yep. She knew I needed more help around here, and she mentioned what a trustworthy, hard worker you are.”
“Wow.” I glanced toward the direction the old woman had walked away in. “Who knew?”
I grabbed the broom and resumed my therapeutic sweeping of the floor. Heeding Mrs. Montgomery's warning and forcing my mind to think of anything but my mother. Ray. Noah. Eleven. The upcoming weekend and our plans to buy a TV. Howard lingered, watching the bristles scrape against the bleached wood floorboards with crossed arms and a gentle bob of his head. As if I needed his approval. As if I needed to know if I was doing a good job or not.
Then, he said, “So … listen, Soldier …”
With those words spoken, the broom froze, and my arms stilled. Nobody said those words without dropping a bomb immediately after.
“What's up?” I asked,all of a suddenterrified I might lose my job without any reason to be terrified at all.
“Connie and I were talking the other day. She needs some help with the Fourth of July festival. The ladies who work with her,Christyand Rosie—you've met them, right?”
I nodded. There weren't many people I hadn't met at this point. Especially working in such a central hub like the local grocery store.
“Well, they have most of it covered, but there's some stuff—hanging the banners, stringing some of the lights, things like that—that they need a little more help with, and since you have the height, I thought you might be willing to lend a hand.”
God, this guy needed to work on his conversation starters.
My nerves settled as I nodded. “Yeah, absolutely. You didn't even need to ask, man. You know I'm always down to help.”
“Well, I just didn't know if you had things going on with that girlfriend of yours.”
“It's all good, man. You just let me know whenever you need me, and I’ll be there.”
***
“So, you're not just making friends, but you're also becoming a fixture in town,” Ray said on the way to Harold's, the local department store.
I chuckled from the passenger seat of her old car. “I guess so.”
She reached over and laced her fingers with mine. “I'm glad they're finally seeing what I see,” she replied softly.
“And what exactly is it that you see?” My mouth curled into a teasing smile as I gripped her hand tightly, never ceasing to be amazed at how right it felt in mine.
Her cheeks were florid in the morning sunshine streaming through the open window. “My sweet, gentle giant.” Her voice was quiet against the warm air rushing into the car, but Noah heard her from the backseat, and he groaned in agony.
I bit back laughter as I glanced over my shoulder. “What's up, buddy? Youfeelokay?”
“No,” he muttered, rolling his eyes to meet mine. “You guys aregonnamake me puke.”
“Well, aim it out the window, okay?” Ray replied, grinning into the rearview mirror at her son.
“Nah. I'mgonnaaim it at you,” Noah said, jabbing his finger at my shoulder. Laughter heavy in his tone.
“Hey”—I chuckled and shook my head—“I don't handle puke well, man. You throw up on me, and I'mgonnado it, too, and I'lldefinitely makesure to do it right back atya.”
Noah groaned with disgust between bursts of giggles. “Mom's car'sgonnabe so gross.”
“Right? Can you imagine what that'sgonnasmell like? Jesus … especially in this heat …”
“Okay”—Ray feigned a gag from beside me—“can you guys stop with the puke talk, please?”
Noah let loose a victorious chuckle, like he'd won and gotten the best of his mother.
