I have a proposal for you. He smiles with a boyish charm I remember well from the spring into the summer. He hands me a large hot coffee and asks how I'm doing first, pointing out he went to both restaurants looking for me. At the first they pretended they'd never heard of me. At the second they let Emmett know I was home sick today.
(Gee, thanks?)
How about instead of you bringing coffee to everyone else, I bring you your coffee every morning again?
But the house is finished. And I already have a husband to bring me coffee. And a boyfriend. Or two, actu-
I mean as your boss. I need a bookkeeper.
Can you forward the details to my email? So I have it writing?
Does that mean you'd consider it?
Not necessarily but I do business in writing. It's a good practice to do so.
It is. He's still smiling and it's starting to hurt like a sunburn. I will send the details to your email then.
Thank you.
Can I offer you a walk? I need to see how the pilings are holding up on the beach steps. Can you manage that? He shifts it back to business, emptying the chamber, clicking the safety back on.
If we go slowly.
Of course. More time to talk that way.
At the top of the steps he offered his arm and set our coffees on the landing. They'd still be warm on the way back. If not I can make us fresh. Good thing, that. He checked out his handiwork to make sure nothing was crumbling/leaning/sinking and then we walked to the end of the point and back very slowly.
It turns out he loves tattoos, doesn't take much time off and does very well for himself. Turns out he HATES paperwork and wants to be hands-on. Turns out he and Ransom are brothers-in-law without much actual use for each other as Ransom is in it for cash and Emmett for quality, but Emmett likes to keep an eye on Ransom because he and his little sister are close and supposedly when Ransom proposed to Emmett's little sister Emmett took FOREVER to warm up to him and now they work together virtually every day and it's been lucrative for both, though Emmett swears he would happy living out his days as a school custodian or someone doing small odd projects here and there. That he doesn't ask for much.
What about a family?
Nothing ever came my way.
That's hard to believe, I watch him.
Doesn't make it less true. I've hit a nerve and Emmett wraps up our visit. I'm not a need, I'm a want, clearly or he would have tried to drag it out. We head back up the steps, with Emmett stopping every now and then to pull on a railing or inspect a screw and then he picks up our coffees and proclaims them still warm.
Like my heart. I make the inevitable bad joke and instead of pointedly ignoring it like everyone usually does he says,
Why do you say that?
It's just a joke. I mean I feel dead sometimes but my heart still beats so I guess I'm alive.
I hear you. I feel that way too most of the time.
Oh. A kindred spirit. I asked for help with him and no one came. He showed up at my work and asked about my heart already and I blew him off and it took him four months to come up with an excuse to come back and this is how it begins and I'm not sure I hate the process, but I am sure I hate myself and I hate him too right now.
Check your email later today. But call me to discuss any questions or concerns, okay? I like the sound of your voice, Bridget.
I have strep throat.
I heard it before you were sick, remember? Also if you're in the gazebo, you know it has a heater, right?
It does?
Yes. Someone was supposed to show you. There's a dial just inside the door, on the wall. It functions the same way as the gas patio heaters. Turn it for greater heat, or turn it all the way back to the left until it clicks off. It has it's own natural gas line. So maybe you won't get pneumonia next time you sit out there to write.
(Gee, thanks?)
How about instead of you bringing coffee to everyone else, I bring you your coffee every morning again?
But the house is finished. And I already have a husband to bring me coffee. And a boyfriend. Or two, actu-
I mean as your boss. I need a bookkeeper.
Can you forward the details to my email? So I have it writing?
Does that mean you'd consider it?
Not necessarily but I do business in writing. It's a good practice to do so.
It is. He's still smiling and it's starting to hurt like a sunburn. I will send the details to your email then.
Thank you.
Can I offer you a walk? I need to see how the pilings are holding up on the beach steps. Can you manage that? He shifts it back to business, emptying the chamber, clicking the safety back on.
If we go slowly.
Of course. More time to talk that way.
At the top of the steps he offered his arm and set our coffees on the landing. They'd still be warm on the way back. If not I can make us fresh. Good thing, that. He checked out his handiwork to make sure nothing was crumbling/leaning/sinking and then we walked to the end of the point and back very slowly.
It turns out he loves tattoos, doesn't take much time off and does very well for himself. Turns out he HATES paperwork and wants to be hands-on. Turns out he and Ransom are brothers-in-law without much actual use for each other as Ransom is in it for cash and Emmett for quality, but Emmett likes to keep an eye on Ransom because he and his little sister are close and supposedly when Ransom proposed to Emmett's little sister Emmett took FOREVER to warm up to him and now they work together virtually every day and it's been lucrative for both, though Emmett swears he would happy living out his days as a school custodian or someone doing small odd projects here and there. That he doesn't ask for much.
What about a family?
Nothing ever came my way.
That's hard to believe, I watch him.
Doesn't make it less true. I've hit a nerve and Emmett wraps up our visit. I'm not a need, I'm a want, clearly or he would have tried to drag it out. We head back up the steps, with Emmett stopping every now and then to pull on a railing or inspect a screw and then he picks up our coffees and proclaims them still warm.
Like my heart. I make the inevitable bad joke and instead of pointedly ignoring it like everyone usually does he says,
Why do you say that?
It's just a joke. I mean I feel dead sometimes but my heart still beats so I guess I'm alive.
I hear you. I feel that way too most of the time.
Oh. A kindred spirit. I asked for help with him and no one came. He showed up at my work and asked about my heart already and I blew him off and it took him four months to come up with an excuse to come back and this is how it begins and I'm not sure I hate the process, but I am sure I hate myself and I hate him too right now.
Check your email later today. But call me to discuss any questions or concerns, okay? I like the sound of your voice, Bridget.
I have strep throat.
I heard it before you were sick, remember? Also if you're in the gazebo, you know it has a heater, right?
It does?
Yes. Someone was supposed to show you. There's a dial just inside the door, on the wall. It functions the same way as the gas patio heaters. Turn it for greater heat, or turn it all the way back to the left until it clicks off. It has it's own natural gas line. So maybe you won't get pneumonia next time you sit out there to write.