She stepped in front of the screen door and cleared her throat, appearing more uneasy about the meeting than he was. “Hi, I’m uh—I’m Samantha,” she started, then glanced toward the road and back. She swallowed hard, then started again, extending a business card. “Everybody calls me Sam. I have a dog walking business in town,” she explained, motioning over her shoulder. “And I wondered if you have a dog that I could walk.”
Adam blinked in confusion. First of all, he lived in the country so a dog of his would have miles to run and play. Secondly, if he had a dog, which he didn’t, wouldn’t it be barking like crazy? “I don’t have a dog.”
To his bewilderment the girl didn’t look disappointed, or even surprised.
“Okay, well I just wanted to bring you my card and offer my services.” She said, trying to smile as she shoved the business card at him.
He put out a greasy hand, then was embarrassed and wiped it on the rag again. It didn’t help much though, so finally, he took the card.
The girl cocked her head to one side. “Maybe you should get a dog.”
He scoffed. “Yeah okay, thanks anyway,” and moved to close the door.
She held out her arm to keep the screen from closing. “It’s not a bad idea you know, living out here alone and all.”
His eyebrows went up.
“This would be a good home for a dog, the pound in West Jefferson is always full. Those dogs need a home.”
Who was this girl to come out to his place and tell him he needed a mutt? “Well, thanks but I’m pretty busy.” He said determined to close the screen.
She stepped back out of the way but didn’t give up. “My number is on the card if you change your mind!” she called through the screen as he closed the front door.
He headed back through the kitchen toward the garage. “Geeze. That was weird.” He tossed the card on the counter as he passed. But as he collected his wrench and went back to work, the thought of a dog tumbled around in the back of his mind. Not a little yappy thing like Joanne had had, but a big, rough and tumble, man’s dog.
Jessica looked both ways, then looked again before she pulled the school bus out of the elementary school parking lot. She kept one eye on traffic and the other in the rearview mirror to make sure the children were all seated. Thick traffic clogging the four narrow lanes of Main Street was making her job much more difficult. As a matter fact, she’d been wrestling all day with how to put her thoughts into words at the next society meeting. She certainly didn’t want Heidi’s house to be destroyed, or the others along Main Street for that matter, but something needed to be done about the traffic situation. It wasn’t safe. Just crossing the street had become treacherous, let alone the hassle it created for folks like her who had to sit in gridlock multiple times a day.
As she inched along Main Street, dividing her attention between the rambunctious children and the cars ahead, Jessica noticed that new Mister Williams was exiting the hardware store. Her heart rate increased. Here an All Points Bulletin was out on the man and she was in no situation to approach him. But members of the society didn’t just give up when things got difficult, and she wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass.
She wasn’t allowed to use her cell phone while driving, nor would she consider it, but she had to alert the ladies. Hastily, she grabbed her notebook and scribbled a quick message with her extra wide sharpie. Mister Williams paused to look in a store window and she tore the page from her notebook.
Traffic slowed to a crawl as the bus rolled to a stop in front of the beauty salon.
Holding her breath in anticipation, Jessica pushed the note up against her side window and laid on the bus horn—three short bursts.
Tourists jumped and drivers looked at the bus, wondering why Jessica had honked, but then, just as expected, Michelle came to the window of the spa. The pink-haired woman got the message and offered a wave of acknowledgment to Jessica then disappeared.
“Ladies, I need to step out for a quick minute,” Michelle announced to her customers, one of which was sitting in the lift chair with half her head covered in curlers. Before anyone could protest, Michelle snatched up a flier from the stack on the counter and hurried out the front door of the salon, still wearing her apron.
Holding out her hand to stop cars, she picked her way among the snarled traffic. When she reached the other side of the street, her gaze searched through the tourists crowding the sidewalk. Seeing Adam near his truck, she dashed down the sidewalk, dodging sightseers as she ran. She reached him just as he opened his truck door, and she stepped off the sidewalk to lift his windshield wiper and put the flier under it. “Oh, Mister Williams—I didn’t see you.” She gasped, out of breath, trying to look nonchalant. “I’m handing out fliers—here’s one for you.”
Adam could only stare at the winded woman. He’d noticed her plowing her way down the sidewalk waving the paper and thought her deranged. The lady wasn’t handing out fliers, she’d made it a point to bring the thing directly to him.
“I—I don’t understand.”
She shoved the flier at him again, working to catch her breath. “I just wanted to—invite you to the salon.” she smiled too brightly to be natural.
He took the flier, lest she cram it down the front of his shirt. “Okay, uh—thank you,” he muttered.
“We take walk-ins,” she said, now able to breathe and talk at the same time. “And we offer full service at the spa. Nails, pedicures, and such.” She motioned toward the salon across the street with her colorful hand. “We’d love to have you come in for a haircut.” She tipped her head. “We also do manscaping, you know, beards, eyebrows and such.”
Now he felt unkempt. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he grumbled as he climbed into the truck.
Michelle stepped up to his truck window and motioned for him to roll it down.
Adam took his time cranking down the window.
“You must think I’m crazy,” she huffed, “but I didn’t want you to think you have to go clear to Boone for a haircut. Have you been to Boone?”
He stared at her, his eye twitching. “Yes.”
Realizing she wasn’t going to get any more information from the man, she took a step back, then backed up again, up onto the sidewalk. But when she realized he couldn’t back the truck out due to traffic, she hurried into the street and raised her glossy fingernailed hand to stop cars.
He backed up and she smiled and waved as he joined in the stream of traffic. Then, feeling like she’d at least given it her best, she headed back to the salon.
Adam glanced again at the pink-haired beautician in his rearview mirror. The poor thing must be desperate for customers to come running after him like that.
He pulled into the grocery store and found a place to park. As he climbed from his pickup truck, a beautiful dark-haired woman glanced his way, then did a 90 degree turn to head his direction. He looked behind him, wondering what she saw that caught her attention, but no one was there.
“Mister Williams?” She called out as she approached.
“Yes…” he drawled.
“I’m Monique Brewer, I own the tavern on Main Street,” she said.
Adam couldn’t help but notice that her manner and her smile felt forced.
“I wanted to invite you to come on in sometime,” she continued, “and have a beer, on the house. The newcomer special.”
His eyebrows rose. “Thanks.”
Monique shifted from one foot to the other and stared over his shoulder for a long moment. The silence grew awkward.
“You said your last name was Brewer, and you own a bar?” Adam asked.
She kicked at invisible rocks. “Yeah, so?”
“Nothing,” he backpedaled.
Her eyes scanned the parking lot, then his truck, anywhere but his face. “So, you drive a truck. North Carolina plates I see, are those new?”
He scowled at the back of his truck. He was from Charlotte but he’d lived south of the city in South Carolina, so he�
��d had to reregister his truck and get a new driver’s license. What did it matter? Other than taxes and vehicle registration, he usually didn’t even think about the fact that he’d moved out of state; he’d been doing business in North Carolina for years. “Yeah, why?”
She shrugged. “Well, I gotta go.” She motioned toward the store. “Groceries.”
“Yeah, I need some too.”
“Coincidence,” she snorted at her own joke as she backed up.
“Yeah, what are the chances we’d be parked in front of the grocery store and both need groceries?” he said dryly.
“Right,” she said, turning to hurry away.
He stood there like a deer in headlights, watching her leave, wondering what on earth was going on. He was pretty sure it had nothing to do with a free beer. Had someone taped a sign on his back? Even his healthy male ego couldn’t account for two attractive women approaching him within ten minutes—not to mention the one that had come out to his house earlier.
He gave himself a shake and got a cart from the cart corral, then headed into the store. The place smelled wonderful. Sugar Mountain had a knack for making a place feel homey and welcoming.
“Mister Williams,” a high-pitched, shaky voice called, echoing through the produce department.
Turning to look, he saw a tiny old lady with white hair waving him down. “Okay, now I know I’ve lost my mind,” he muttered. He’d lived in the place for a month and not one woman had given him the time of day.
The old woman shuffled to his side. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” she huffed. “I’m so glad I caught you.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked, thinking maybe she needed help.
“Oh yes, I’m fine as frog fur,” she replied with a wide grin.
“Well… what can I do for you?”
“Not a thing, I want to help you.” She said with a raspy giggle.
He leaned against a produce bin and crossed his arms over his chest. “Help me with what?”
“With your garden, of course,” she said confidently.
His arms fell to his sides. “I don’t have a garden.”
She waved him off, as if he’d said something amusing. “Well, not yet, you silly man. It’s only March!”
Completely lost, he could only stare at the old woman.
“You won’t be planting for another two weeks, will you. No, I wanted to offer you some heirloom seeds.”
He shook his head. “Look Mrs.—I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Mildred, Mildred Allen.”
“Right, Mildred, I don’t garden.”
She shook a crooked finger under his nose. “Not yet you don’t, but you will.”
“Why do you say that?”
Her shoulders straightened and she got serious. “Because you’re an intelligent man and you’ve got the time, that’s why.”
His arms crossed again. “What makes you think I’ve got the time?”
She offered him another raspy chuckle. “You’re at the grocery store in the middle of the day, aren’t you?”
He sighed and rubbed his hands down his face.
“I need to be on my way now,” Mildred said. “I’ll be in touch about the seeds.”
“Thanks,” he muttered as she shuffled away. Maybe he should desert his grocery cart and head home. At this rate he’d be talking to women all day and get nothing done, and it didn’t make one lick of sense.
“Mom,” Tyler complained, “I’ve already spent an hour on algebra.”
“Does that mean you need a tutor?” Heidi asked, giving her son the eye. “I know Mildred used to teach math. She’d be happy to come over and give you pointers.”
“Could Sam come help me?” he asked hopefully. “That would be fantastic!”
She withheld a chuckle. She couldn’t blame the kid for wanting to sit next to Sam for an hour or two. “Nope, Mildred.”
A look of horror crossed the boy’s face. “Ugh! Fine, I’ll figure it out.”
Heidi watched her son head up the stairs. He’d been such a happy carefree little boy. It hurt to see him moody and forlorn much of the time. Was it because he’d lost his father, or was this how teenage-boys acted? His long, lanky arms and legs were starting to fill out, and he’d just gotten his braces off last month. One of these days he’d find himself falling in love, she had no doubt.
Oh, those were the days.
She and her husband had been high school sweethearts. She was glad now that they hadn’t waited for college or anything else before they got married. They had no way of knowing that cancer would take Brad so young, but she had no regrets. They’d been very happy.
Her phone rang and she fished it from her pocket. “Hi, Monique.”
Her expression fell as she listened to her friend.
“Okay, well, Mildred said that she couldn’t find where any building permits had been filed, but you know how ol’ Windy can be. Mayor Winslow might not feel the need to follow the rules.” Heidi had no real reason to distrust the mayor, but something about the man didn’t sit right with her.
Monique spoke again.
“Yeah, I agree. Let’s talk about it at the meeting tomorrow.”
Monique agreed and the line went dead.
Heidi held her phone back to look at the blank screen. “That woman never says goodbye,” she muttered, then pocketed her phone and pushed up from the sofa.
It was going to be a doozy of a meeting tomorrow night, that was for sure. It sounded like all the women in the society had made some kind of contact with Mister Williams, and they should have a lot to report. She turned off the lights, checked the door, then trudged up the steps. No one could draw information out of a person like the women of the Sugar Mountain Ladies Historical Society.
Her step hitched as she realized that everyone in the society had questioned Mister Williams, but her. She frowned and continued up the stairs. It wasn’t like her to be remiss in her duties. She’d have to make contact tomorrow so she had something to report as well.
Adam stood in the dog pound looking at the most pathetic dog he’d ever seen. The poor thing was skinny, likely half starved.
He tilted his head to one side.
The dog looked so sad. Maybe because his legs were too short or his head was too big—something was off. The dog was just plain weird looking.
The poor creature looked up at him in silence and Adam shoved his hands into his pockets. The poor thing just sat there, watching him, not expecting to be loved or accepted.
Adam paced to the far end of the kennels and back. All the other dogs were either barking like crazy or sleeping. He stopped in front of the sad dog again. “What kind of dog are you?” he asked the creature. But the thing didn’t respond, just watched him with watery eyes.
“Well, damn,” Adam sighed. He’d driven all the way here and none of the dogs were what he’d planned to take home. He’d pictured a tall, sleek, crafty, Labrador chasing a ball or running across a field in the sunset.
Disappointed, he headed out of the pens, past the desk, and out to his truck. He started up the truck, but when he went to put it in reverse, that dog’s face dominated his thoughts with its sad shining eyes, and solemn acceptance of its plight.
“Hell’s bells,” he cussed as he turned off the truck. With a grunt he slammed the truck door and headed back inside.
An hour later Adam sat in his dark living room drinking a beer and watching reruns on TV. He glanced over at the dog curled up at the other end of the sofa. “Well, get over here,” he motioned with his hand.
The dog got up and meekly came toward him, then curled up and placed his head on Adam’s thigh. His soulful eyes rose to gaze at his new owner.
Adam ran his hand along the dog’s head, not because he liked him, but because the dog needed some love.
At first light, Heidi sat in her car in front of Adam’s house. Now that she was here, she found herself unwilling to go through with her plan. She was running out of options though, an
d if she didn’t bite the bullet and talk to the man, she’d look a fool at tonight’s meeting.
She climbed from the car and headed across Adam’s mildly overgrown lawn but was caught off guard when he came around the side of the house with a strange looking skinny dog on a leash. Rattled, she nearly ran back to her car.
“Oh,” Adam said, just as surprised to see Heidi in his yard as she’d been to see him. He choked up on the leash, unsure what the dog would do. “Can I help you with something?”
Heidi floundered, trying to remember her plan. She held up her clipboard. “I’m just doing a new resident check.”
“Excuse me?”
Trying to look official she tried again. “You know, as Post Master I personally go by new addresses to make sure all is in order, and to be sure your mail gets forwarded.” She straightened her shoulders, hoping he couldn’t hear her heart beating like a kettle drum as she lied.
“I’ve been getting my mail at the PO box.”
Oh shoot! Why hadn’t she remembered that? Now she looked like a fool. What had she been thinking? It seemed like anything to do with Adam threw her uncharacteristically off track. “Oh right,” she hedged, her thoughts spinning, working to find a way out of the predicament she’d put herself in. She knew better than to lie. “May uh, may I ask where you are from?” she asked, knowing full well it may well be in her records at the post office.
“I set it all up online,” he explained, not one to share his personal information.
“Right,” she answered, now desperate to make an exit. “I’ll be on my way then.”
“Where are you from?” He asked with a wicked grin, stopping her in her tracks. “If I may ask. Turnabout is fair play, is it not?”
She slowly turned around to face him. “I—I suppose, why do you ask?”
“You don’t have the local accent.”
She relaxed and a grin played at the corner of her mouth. “I grew up in Kansas City, so I wouldn’t sound like a southerner, would I?”
Trouble on Main Street Page 5
