by Rae Davies
“Old hunting accident,” she quipped.
“What were you hunting?” He ran his finger around the white skin.
And she’d always thought she had no feeling there. She pulled her arm out of his reach.
“Smart-aleck city boys.” She pressed a wooden handle for the basket into his hand. “Fried, they’re almost as good eating as a dishrag.”
Will held the handle up to the light, inspecting it. “Who’s the smart-aleck now?”
Patsy ignored him and continued with her instructions. “We’re going to staple the reed to the handle, not one hundred percent authentic, but fancy enough for a beginner.”
“What makes you think I’m a beginner? My technique not polished enough for you?”
Patsy flushed. If his technique was any more polished, she’d have him pinned to the table right now.
“Once we have five strips hanging down, we can start weaving, like this.” She demonstrated moving a sixth piece of reed through the ones attached to the handle.
“I think I get it. In and out. In and out. In and—”
“What we’re—” Patsy’s voice was louder than she’d intended. She moderated it some and continued “—going for here are these square holes.” She pointed to the picture of a finished basket, then moved on before he could add another comment she didn’t want to deal with. “Now we staple again, so we have a diamond in the bottom of the basket.”
Will stepped closer until he was looking at the basket over her shoulder.
“You could see better over there.” Patsy gestured to the other side of the table.
“The view here suits me fine.” He smiled at her, only inches from her face.
With her heart pounding in her chest, she raced through the last few steps. “One last staple and you’re done. Now you can dye it or leave it natural. I like the aged look, but a walnut dye might be nice too.” Her voice was shaky. He was so close. His breath was warm against the side of her neck and something deep in her stomach clenched with each exhalation.
Mouth close to her throat, he murmured, “I think I’ll leave it as is. The best things in life don’t need improving.”
A shiver flew up her spine. She had to put distance between them. Using clean-up as an excuse, she slid from his reach. “I can’t think of too many things that can’t use improving.”
“Maybe you just think they need improving. Once you try it, you may discover they don’t.” He stepped toward her again, letting his hand rest lightly on her arm.
“And I may discover they do.” She jutted her chin up, looking him in the eyes. He was trying to confuse her, but she knew what she wanted.
“You may discover all kinds of things. I know I have.” His eyes glimmered and his hand traveled further up her arm, massaging her skin.
Patsy stepped backward. “Thanks for the flowers, and the cookbook for Granny, and the dog treats. Pugnacious loved them.” It was abrupt, almost rude, but she was desperate. She’d resisted far more than any woman should have to.
Will let his hand fall from her arm, his gaze shuttered closed. Looking at Ralph, he patted his leg and said, “Come on, boy. Looks like we’re done here.”
Patsy and Pugnacious followed them to the door. Patsy lasted until Will and Ralph were off the porch before allowing her knees to crumple and her body to land in a crouch. This friendship thing was way more complicated than she’d planned.
o0o
Will was in love with Patsy, and she wasn’t interested. The discovery wasn’t a pleasant one, but there it was. Spending time with Patsy at her house had made it all clear.
Patsy laughing and teasing and relaxed. She brought out a side of him most people didn’t see. He’d come close to pushing aside their agreement and his own earlier resolve, forcing her to admit she wanted more than friendship, but she’d made it more than obvious his feelings weren’t returned.
He’d come close to humiliating himself, too close.
He had to put a stop to this. After Sunday, he’d thought he had it under control. He knew his plan to toy with her, to prove she wasn’t any more immune to the attraction between them than he was, was asinine, but alone with her he couldn’t stop himself.
If Patsy wasn’t interested, he had to move on. There were only a couple of ways to forget a woman—find another one or lose yourself in work. Will picked up the phone and dialed Perry Realtors.
o0o
Another basket finished. Patsy placed the jack-o-lantern next to the hamper. It was great. A little quirky for her, but she loved it. She’d seen a basket like this in a fancy country decorating magazine and decided to make one. The magazine showed kids trick-or-treating, but Patsy suspected more people would buy them just to hold candy or for a centerpiece.
She picked up Will’s daisies and set them inside. The colors weren’t the best, but it was a good idea. Maybe she’d get some fall flowers, maybe even dried ones, for the website photo. Even after the awkwardness at the end of last night, she couldn’t wait to show Will. They got along so well together. They’d get past the other. They had to. She was removing his bouquet when the phone rang.
It was Glenn.
“Great news. Sunrise loved the site. The testimonials really sealed it.”
Patsy dropped into a chair.
“Are you there? I said they loved it. The marketing manager is going to call you personally to compliment you.”
“That’s great. I don’t know what to say.”
“Well, think of something, because my guess is she’s going to be asking you to drive north for an interview. She asked me if you’d be interested and what kind of pay you’d need to make the move.”
What kind of pay?
“I didn’t know what you had in mind, but I told her you were already working on another project and she’d better get an offer in soon if she’s interested.” He paused. “Are you still working on the site for that friend of yours?”
Patsy looked at the daisies. “Yeah, but I’m not doing any real web work. Just helping with pictures and stuff.”
“She doesn’t have to know that. It’s better if she thinks there might be some reason you want to stay in Daisy Creek, and another job is perfect. Don’t let it slip that there’s nothing keeping you there. I think you can negotiate a better package that way.”
Nothing keeping her here. One daisy poked higher out of the basket than the others. Patsy tucked it back inside, breaking the stem in the process.
“Did you hear me?” Glenn interrupted her work.
“Yeah, don’t let her know nothing’s keeping me here.” She stared down at the broken bloom. “You’re probably right.”
“Damn straight. How about we get together for dinner to celebrate? Not tonight, I have a project to finish up, but tomorrow? Is there any place decent to eat there?”
Dazed, Patsy answered, “We could go to the Dogwood Inn. It’s nice.”
“Great, I’ll pick you up at six. See ya then.”
Long after he hung up, Patsy sat with the phone in her hand, the broken daisy resting on her leg, and the jack-o-lantern basket smirking at her.
o0o
“You’re late.”
Patsy pulled her smock off its hanger and ignored her boss. He got more and more charming by the second. She fed her timecard into the machine and stomped into the store. Bruce started railing on Leroy about limp lettuce or dented cans or some other world catastrophe.
Patsy held her fingers an inch apart and mouthed to Leroy, “Tiny dick.” At Leroy’s chuckle, Bruce swirled around.
“Don’t I pay you to scan groceries?”
If you could call minimum wage pay, he did.
“If you want to get another paycheck, I suggest you twist your behind up to that cash register and get to it.”
After he turned back to Leroy, Patsy indulged herself in an adolescent eye roll and sashayed to the front.
“What tripped his trigger?” she asked Ruthann.
“I don’t know for sure, but Marcia c
alled in sick. Could be Carl’s finally onto them.”
Patsy’s stomach coiled into a knot. For all that she’d lectured Marcia, she hadn’t wanted this. She just wanted Marcia to wise up and stop cheating. Carl finding out about the affair would only cause hurt all around.
“So, I’ve got news.” Ruthann sprayed her scanner with Windex and wiped it off.
“Really?” Patsy smiled at a twenty year old toting two kids and a cart full of Lay’s and Mountain Dew.
“Randy asked me out.” Ruthann beamed.
“That’s nice.” Patsy removed a half-eaten Hershey bar from the toddler’s hand and passed it over the scanner.
Ruthann curled her lip at the chocolate stain left on Patsy’s hand. After ripping off a paper towel, she handed it to Patsy. “Here.”
She watched as Patsy counted out the young mother’s change and bagged her purchases. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
Patsy looked at her friend’s indignant face. “I am. I’m sorry. I just have a lot on my mind.”
Ruthann dug stickers out of her smock pocket and handed them to the children. “Will?”
“No, I told you we’re just friends. Actually, I have a date with Glenn.”
“Hmm, where are you going?”
“The Dogwood Inn.” Patsy paused. “I shouldn’t have called it a date. It’s more of a business meeting, a celebration.”
“Really? What for?” Ruthann opened a pack of Juicy Fruit and folded a piece into her mouth.
Lining the quarters up end to end in her change drawer, Patsy replied, “I finished the website for Sunrise. Glenn thinks they’re going to offer me a job.” She snuck a look at her friend.
“Hmm.” Ruthann snapped her gum. “Can’t wait to leave us all behind, I guess.”
“You know that’s not it.” Another customer wheeled into Patsy’s lane. Patsy flipped down the end of the cart and grabbed a box of Wheaties. “I just need something more.”
“You mean more better.”
Now was not the time to correct Ruthann’s grammar. “Just more.”
“Ruthann, I know I should be impressed you can chew gum and jaw with Patsy at the same time, but since I’m not paying you to do either one, I suggest you get back to work.” Bruce yelled from his elevated office.
Ruthann put her back to Patsy and motioned an approaching customer into her lane. For once, Patsy was glad her boss was such a giant pain. Her conversation with Ruthann was going nowhere fast. Why couldn’t anyone understand that Patsy needed to leave Daisy Creek? Ruthann acted like it was a personal attack, and Granny’d been simmering like chicken soup in a crock pot for days.
Four hours later, Patsy was ready for a break. She locked her register and headed to the deli department to grab a bologna sandwich.
“I know what’s been going on. I just want you to admit it.” Carl Stephens stood next to a shaking Bruce.
“Really, Carl, I have no idea what you think you know, but trust me, you are way off track.”
“My marriage may be off track, but trust me, I’m not.” Carl leaned in, his face only inches from the other man’s.
Bruce grimaced, like he smelled something bad and twisted his head to the side. “There’s no reason to get angry. If you’d calm down, I’m sure we could work this out.”
“Where’s my wife?” Carl took an unsteady step back, knocking a jar of deli mustard onto the tile. It hit with a loud crack, spilling yellow goop onto the floor.
Bruce didn’t even glance at the stain on his otherwise pristine floor. “I already told you. Marcia called in sick today. If she isn’t home, I have no idea where she is.”
“She’s not hiding out in your car? Don’t think I haven’t heard about your little lunch meetings. This town is too small. We’re onto you.” Carl slumped against the bread display, crushing the Roman Meal. “Everybody’s onto you.”
Bruce sidestepped out of Carl’s reach. “If she calls in, I’ll tell her you’re looking for her.”
Carl didn’t notice as Bruce scurried away, leaving a trail of yellow spots in his wake. Carl looked deflated. Patsy hurt for him. She knew the pain of finding out someone you loved was cheating on you, making you into a fool in front of the whole town. She approached Carl. His head was bowed, and his shoulders shook.
Placing her hand on his arm, she said, “Carl?”
He looked up, meeting her gaze with bloodshot eyes. “Yeah? Oh, hey, Patsy. I guess you heard. Not that it matters. You probably knew anyway. Everybody does.”
The stench of stale beer enveloped her. She forced herself to stay put. “She’s not here. Bruce didn’t lie—about that.”
“I know. She’s left me. Can you believe that?” He ran his hand over his face. “She left me. She’s been sneaking around with that bald-headed weasel, and I never said a thing. Then she up and leaves me.”
There wasn’t anything Patsy could say to make it better. “I’m sorry, Carl.”
“Yeah, I guess you understand. It’s rough, isn’t it? Can’t trust in anything anymore. Things used to be so simple. I had my life all planned out and now look at me, yelling at No-Balls Bruce in the deli section.” He uttered a low laugh. “Pretty sad.”
“You’ll get past it.”
“Will I? Did you?”
Patsy ignored the question and concentrated on steering him outside. “How are you getting home?”
“Does it matter?”
“You can’t drive.”
He leaned against a metal column.
“Don’t be stupid, Carl. You still have a daughter and parents and a ton of people who love you. You’ll get past this. You can’t give up.”
Slumping lower on the post, he said, “I can walk to Mom and Dad’s. They just live over behind the KFC.”
Patsy separated a Starlight mint from the stickers in her pocket. “Eat this. It won’t solve everything, but maybe it’ll keep the complications down some.”
He twisted it open and stumbled off toward his parents. He was a mess, but at least he wasn’t driving. And he was headed somewhere people would watch out for him, instead of airing his problems in front of every shopper at the Bag and Basket.
Damn Marcia for creating this mess.
What about this town caused people to cheat and drink? Patsy stopped. Carl smelled like the inside of Busch can, and Marcia’d said things weren’t always simple. Was Patsy judging the wrong half?
She shook her head. Not that it mattered. They’d both screwed up, and they’d both pay the price, especially as long as they were in Daisy Creek. No one would let them forget this slip-up. When you stepped in a mess in this town, you carried it around with you for the rest of your life.
She stamped on the automatic doormat and waited for the door to swing open. The loudspeaker greeted her.
“Leroy, clean up on aisle six.”
Life should be so simple.
Chapter 17
“Where you headed?” Granny set her chair to a gentle rock.
“The Dogwood Inn. Glenn’s picking me up.”
“That boy in the revved-up car?” Granny’s chair thumped as it bumped against the wall.
“It’s not revved up. That’s the way it came.” Patsy slumped on the couch, studying the pattern of granny squares that made up the afghan.
A squeak followed by another thump signaled Granny standing up. “You never did show me that basket you was so proud of, the one like a jack-o-lantern. Where’d you leave it?”
“It’s in the kitchen.” Patsy waved her hand in a vague motion but pushed herself up to follow.
“Well, that’s something. It is.” Granny held the grinning basket at arm’s length.
“You like it?”
“What’d you say it was for?”
“Trick or treating, or holding candy, or my favorite, a centerpiece. Look. I got some dried flowers today.”
Patsy picked up a bag from the floor and pulled out the flowers. “See how nice that looks.” She spread the stems out, filling the basket
. “There wasn’t much to pick from in town, so I just got gold and green, but you could use some other shades of green and maybe a darker orange.” She held the arrangement out to her grandmother.
“Now that is right pretty. Let’s set it right here in the center of the table where folks can see it.” Granny plopped the basket down.
“You have to put the face in front.” Patsy twisted the basket so he grinned at the front door.
“Yeah, wouldn’t do for him not to be facing the front.”
The basket really was great. It would be perfect for Thanksgiving. Patsy could see it sitting on a table filled with turkey, cranberry sauce, and pies. She could even make little ones to match. Granny could fill them with her special spiced walnuts and people could take them home afterward. It would be a nice touch. Will would love it.
Will. She had to stop thinking of him. He’d probably be eating Thanksgiving in Chicago anyway. For that matter, come November, Patsy might not be in Daisy Creek either, not if she got the job with Sunrise. She’d be in St. Louis, eating frozen turkey TV dinners and Mrs. Smith pumpkin pie with Pugnacious. The cloud of disquiet that had surrounded Patsy all day settled back around her.
“What’s wrong with you?” Granny’s voice jarred Patsy out of her dreary holiday plans.
“Nothing.” Patsy stuck another dried stem into the jack-o-lantern. “You think it needs more green?”
“I don’t think there’s much hope of getting it any prettier.”
Patsy’s gaze narrowed. “You don’t like it.”
“I like any basket you like making. You want some tea?” Granny tottered over to retrieve the pitcher.
Headlights flashed through the window. “There’s Glenn. I’ll see you later. Don’t wait up.”
Patsy grabbed her purse and hurried to the door to keep Pugnacious from going into her normal “you’re not welcome” routine. She turned to wave goodbye to her grandmother. Granny stood next to the table, sipping her tea. The pitcher sat in front of the basket, blocking his grin.
“I was going to knock on the door,” Glenn greeted Patsy halfway up the walk.
