[City Limits 01.0] Roots and Wings

by M. Mabie

  However, he was right. It was an old house, but it was built well and it wouldn’t take much more than what he’d mentioned to get it looking great.

  “Well, put me to work then. Come grab this water out of my truck, we’re gonna need it. And I’ll run home really fast and come right back.”

  There was something about him that caught my interest. The way he talked to me was different than the other people I knew. Maybe I wanted to get to know him more because he didn’t know me. There was something kind of refreshing about learning about someone new, and I enjoyed that I kind of had a clean slate when it came to his knowledge of me.

  He seemed easygoing enough, and an attractive man around my age moving to town was just about the most excitement I was going to get anytime soon.

  Besides, as soon as anyone else in town noticed him, he wouldn’t need me bringing him groceries.

  New, cute doctors don’t socialize with the town Mutt. That was purely a guess, though. We hadn’t had a new doctor ... ever really.

  “Are you sure? You really don’t have to. Hell, you don’t even know me.”

  “Well, I guess we’ll get that sorted out today then, won’t we?” I offered him a friendly smile and he followed me outside, lifting the case of water out of the back.

  It only took about two minutes to get to my house from his, and it didn’t take me any time to throw my hair up in a ponytail, grab my toolbox—yes, I have my own and it’s not pink—and I was driving back down the road.

  Back to Vaughn’s.

  I tucked my phone in one of my back pockets, got my gloves out of the toolbox, and stuffed them in the other. As I walked back in the front door to find out where he wanted me to start, he appeared at the top of the old staircase.

  “Do you really want me to call you Mutt?”

  Thanks, Grandpa.

  I took a deep breath and sucked it up like I always did. “Might as well. Everyone else does. Mutt O’Fallon at your assistance,” I said as I made myself at home walking through his house.

  “O’Fallon.” I heard him say a few times on his way to the kitchen, like he was trying that on for size. “I like O’Fallon better.”

  “Suit yourself. Where do I start? The day’s getting shorter by the minute.”

  At that he hopped to, and headed for the back of the house.

  “I was sorting the paint we bought—I bought—on the back patio. Like to paint?” he asked, looking hopeful. The way he kept correcting himself spoke a lot about what had happened.

  It wasn’t my business, though. I was just there to help.

  “Sure.”

  “Good. I’ve already got the laundry room taped and trimmed.”

  I followed him into the laundry room off the kitchen and saw that he had, in fact, taped around all of the doorways and windows. He’d removed all of the cover plates from the outlets and he’d even moved the machines to the backyard. That must have been a chore by himself.

  “No problem. Where’s my brush, boss?” I said, trying to make it seem like I did this kind of thing for people all of the time. Although, I definitely would have, it simply wasn’t often when I found myself volunteering my time to people I’d known for less than twenty-four hours.

  Okay. It was never.

  I’d never just shown up at a stranger’s house, brought them food, and offered to do some light remodeling, but something about it was so right. Felt so good.

  Plus, I liked his smile.

  Chapter Four

  Vaughn

  She was a damn hard worker and fun to talk with. You can get to know someone pretty fast that way, I guess, because she’d only been there for a few hours and already we’d painted the laundry room, the upstairs bathroom, and at the moment we were trimming the master bedroom.

  She didn’t have any trouble saying what came to her, and telling me things she’d do if the place were hers.

  Like not painting the original wood trim, which actually looked pretty great after a good scrub. And, how if she lived there, she’d keep the towels in the small closet across from the bathroom instead of putting shelves up. She said it would seem bigger without the extra “shit on the walls.”

  “You’re telling me you think the grey color would look better in the front room?” I asked, after considering if I even had enough paint to do what she’d suggested.

  “Yeah, you’re not going to see much of it in the kitchen with all the cabinets up anyway. It’s your house, but I like it better for the living room.”

  It was straying from the plan, but fuck the plan. Half of the people who came up with the plan didn’t even live here after all. It was another moment where it hit me that I was starting all over and this was my house—and only my house.

  “You know what? I actually liked the color we put in the laundry room for the kitchen, too.” I’d voiced my opinion about it when wall colors were being chosen, but it was an argument I didn’t really care to have when it all was said and done.

  “Yeah, see I like that better, too!” she exclaimed, slapping my arm. “Sorry. You’re staining those cabinets, right?” she asked, surprisingly into the whole thing.

  “Yeah, it’s like a dark walnut color.”

  “And you’ve got new counters coming this week?”

  I thought about the granite that I wasn’t able to cancel because it had already been custom cut. Granite I didn’t like.

  “Yes,” I said, but I wasn’t really that enthusiastic about it.

  “Yes, but...” She urged me on, hearing how underwhelmed I was.

  “Yes, but it wasn’t what I would have picked.”

  “You have samples?”

  I did actually. I’d seen them that morning.

  “They’re outside in the garage,” I said and started walking that way.

  “Wait, I wanna go,” I heard her say as she dropped her trimming brush into the paint pan then followed me. I liked it, but hated the thought of spoiling her day.

  “Are you sure you don’t have stuff you’d rather be doing?” I asked, still a little skeptical of someone volunteering to help like she did.

  “Yeah, because there’s so much happening in Wynne on Sunday afternoons.”

  “You don’t have to be sarcastic, I was just asking.” I shot back on the way out the back door, then I held it for her as she came right behind me.

  “Thanks,” she said and kept walking. “Really, I didn’t have much to do, and it would suck doing all of this by yourself. I like helping. You never know, I might need help sometime, and I hope someone would do the same for me.”

  Remember learning about the golden rule when you were a child? This woman actually lived by those words and it made me pause. This was the kind of person I was looking for when moving to a small town. Not that I’d planned on coming here to find a woman. Not in the least, but there she was.

  O’Fallon was pretty and sincere, easy to talk to, and even though I’d only been there a day, I knew she was someone I was going to get to know better.

  Not because it was a small town and I had to, but because I was truly interested. Curious. Intrigued.

  How could I not be?

  It didn’t hurt that she danced a little as she painted. It didn’t hurt that she sang along to songs she knew, but still admitted when she “fucked up” the words. And, I was single, so it didn’t hurt that I thought she was sexy. I took stock that I didn’t feel guilty thinking it either.

  It was simply unexpected.

  But we’d just met, and we were alone, not that she couldn’t handle herself, but I didn’t want to flirt with her and make her uncomfortable when she was being so kind to help me and everything.

  I didn’t even know if she was single, though she didn’t wear a ring and no one had called to see where she was, as far as I knew.

  I’d get around to asking her about it, but it wasn’t the right time to do it.

  “Damn, it’s getting hot out today,” she said and pulled the T-shirt over her head, leaving her standing in
my garage in a white tank top, her jeans, and boots.

  And then it was the right time.

  “Are you seeing anyone?”

  “No, why?” she asked, almost like she was accusing me of something. “Do I need to be? I happen to be single by choice. I do not need a man to be happy. You got that?” It was obviously a sensitive subject. She walked out into the driveway, paced a few times, and kicked a rock. “You know what? You’re going to fit right in here in town. Seems you think like everyone else.”

  She’d completely misunderstood me, but it was kind of amusing seeing her get fired up. I’d have to remember how I was saying things from now on with her.

  Which was fine. I liked being direct much more.

  I dug around for the bag I’d seen earlier, and I found it right where I thought it was. Knowing I wouldn’t have Internet access for a while, I had all of the receipts and delivery slips inside it, too.

  When I turned around, she wasn’t talking, but animated, like she was having some sort of argument in her head.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I‘m great, in fact.” She was being a smartass.

  “Great. Me, too. Let me explain what I meant, because you took my question the wrong way. I asked if you had a boyfriend, not because I thought you needed one, but because I hoped you did not have one. And, once more, I was hoping you were single.”

  Her face looked like I’d just told her I was Batman.

  “You did not just say that.”

  “Yes, I did. And I meant it,” I said and walked back into my house.

  She followed.

  For it only being the first day, I’d say we killed it. Three rooms painted and ready to move into.

  When we finished what we could for the night, and after she helped me clean all of the paintbrushes and put stuff away, I asked if she wanted to hang out and eat a sandwich with me. I hadn’t eaten anything except an apple all day.

  She said no, thank you and quietly slipped out the door without even saying much of a goodbye. I’d just heard her truck start, and when I looked out the front door, she waved as she pulled off.

  I thought about her the whole night as I found more things to do. As surprising as it had been when she walked into my house, it was just as unexpected when she occupied my thoughts after she left.

  ⟡⟡⟡

  The check engine light was on in my Escalade, just like it had been on Saturday night when I rolled into town, and I dreaded taking it in.

  I had to return the U-Haul to the trailer place up by the highway first thing in the morning. Afterwards, I stopped at O’Fallon’s garage to see if they could tell me what was wrong with it.

  Hopefully it was just something minor or a sensor gone bad.

  I pulled into the lot and stopped just short of the double garage doors that were wide open, then walked into the door on the side that had the hours of operation stenciled on it. It was a small waiting room with a counter.

  “Hey there, how’s it going?” an older gentleman said from a chair in the corner, looking quite at home. “Whatcha needin’?”

  Maybe the guy was on a break.

  “Well, I drove in from Cleveland over the weekend and the check engine light came on in my Escalade,” I answered, pointing outside to where it sat.

  He stood and looked out at the lot.

  “Don’t say. Was she doin’ anything funny? Actin’ up?”

  “Well, it was shifting a little hard on the way in, but I thought it was just because of the trailer I was pulling.”

  “Don’t say,” he said again and sat down in his seat and slapped his paper open again.

  “Well, can you take a look at it?” Did I need a password or something?

  “Hell, kid. I don’t work here. Mutt walked down to the post office and Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum are in the shop.”

  I looked out the window and saw O’Fallon walking up the street. I stepped outside to meet her. When she saw me, she smiled brightly and sped up.

  “Good morning,” I said as she got near. “Think your dad can check this out for me?”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot. He’s in here, come on.”

  I followed her into the garage area and saw two guys near a smaller dock door in the back.

  “Dad, can you hook his...” she paused, looking for the make of my vehicle.

  “Escalade.”

  “Look at his Escalade?” The older of the two handed the younger guy a clipboard and headed for us.

  “Well, shit, who are you?” her dad asked me.

  I held out my hand and answered, “Vaughn Renfro.”

  “Nice to meet you, Van,” he said, but I didn’t correct him. I didn’t have to.

  “He said Vaugh-n, not Van, Dad,” O’Fallon clarified. It was clear that they were close and enjoyed one another by the animated faces they were giving each other and the way they bantered back and forth.

  “That’s what I said. Van.” And he gave her a take that look, sticking his tongue out.

  “I told the guy in there, I drove it from Cleveland this weekend pulling a trailer and it didn’t really act too bad or anything. It shifted weird a few times, but other than that, it was okay. Then when I pulled into town the check engine light came on. It’s still on.”

  “You told all that to Kenny?” he asked.

  “Well, I thought he worked here.”

  He looked around me into the waiting area and saw what Kenny was doing. “Do you call that working?”

  O’Fallon shoved her dad’s arm and said, “Knock it off. You don’t have anyone coming in this afternoon or anything. Want him to pull it in?” Her tone wasn’t one to play with.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said and waved over his head, motioning for me to bring it inside as he walked back over to the other guy.

  “Just pull it in on this side and they’ll hook it up,” she instructed.

  It was nice knowing someone, and the fact that she looked even better after a night’s rest and a shower, was a wonderful bonus.

  “So did you get anything else done last night?” Her voice was a little softer, laxer than it had been.

  “Yeah, after you left I took all of the doors off the cabinets, carried some boxes with clothes and stuff upstairs.”

  She smiled, but didn’t say anything else and we stood there looking at each other for a minute.

  “Hey, Van, we close at four,” her dad shouted from the back of the garage where he and the other guy were watching us.

  I looked at my watch; it was still morning.

  “He means hurry the hell up,” she said, laughing at me. “He’s giving you shit.”

  I didn’t want any shit from her dad, and I had a lot to do. So I nodded and went outside to pull in my Escalade.

  When I walked into the waiting area, O’Fallon was telling Kenny he needed to quit bothering the customers. I could tell by the way she was tilting her head at him that she was only mostly joking.

  “You tell your customers,” he fired back, giving me a glare, “that I’ve been reading my morning paper in here—in beautiful silence—since before the turn of the century.”

  “Kenny,” she warned.

  “What? You know what my wife is like. If I wanted to hear someone yappin’ and a hollerin’ at me, I’d go home and read it.”

  She laughed and I took a seat by the vending machine, captivated by their conversation. I liked the way she looked just as ornery as he did, and there was a facetious glimmer in her pretty hazel eyes.

  “Your wife needs to bring me some more strawberry jam, I’m almost out again.”

  “She isn’t giving you any more. She said you were an ungrateful brat.”

  O’Fallon’s mouth hung open, shocked at what he’d said.

  “Kenny! She did not.”

  “She did so. She said you could shove her jam right up your ass for all she cared.” He pretended what he was saying wasn’t too interesting to him as he licked his finger and turned the page.

 
; “Well, why’d she say that?” she asked, actually looking a little worried. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “She’s just mad because I told her you said the last strawberry batch she made tasted like shit.” From behind his paper I could see his face, and he shook his head, letting me know he was pulling her leg.

  “Kenneth Bennet, I didn’t say that!” Her tone was the same as when she’d gotten angry about me asking if she had a boyfriend.

  I liked her fiery temper.

  He was winding her up on purpose, I could only assume it was because he liked it, too.

  “You didn’t?” He played innocent. “I coulda swore...”

  “You know good goddamn well I didn’t say that. Why did you tell her that? I love her strawberry jam. It’s my favorite. I eat it for lunch.” Then she stomped her foot and cocked her head to the side.

  “I had to.”

  “Had to? Why?”

  “It was an emergency, she was about to make more strawberry ... but I like peach.”

  “You rotten bastard.”

  He snickered and snorted at his own joke, then declared, “All is fair in love and war ... and Momma’s peach jam.”

  “I think I’m sick of your shit for the day,” she said, sighing and straightening the flyers and pamphlets on the counter.

  I had to concentrate on not laughing. What a pair.

  About that time, he folded the paper, tossed back the last of the coffee he was drinking, and stood.

  “I was just leaving anyway,” he said as he opened the door. Then he spun and said, “See you tomorrow, Mutt.”

  To which she replied, “See you tomorrow, Kenny. Bring me some jam.”

  “Okay, okay,” he said as he walked away.

  “He’s a character.”

  “Yeah, he’s something all right,” she agreed without missing a beat.

  I didn’t want to bother her while she was working, so I sat there quietly and waited.

  Soon enough, her dad came back in and I stood to talk to him.

  “So I called down to the Cad-o-lac dealership, Van, because I didn’t know what that code meant. Turns out, your timing is off. That ain’t good. I can tear into her tomorrow if you want, but you probably shouldn’t be driving it around.”