“No-brainer. That seems fairly accurate.” She had one arm crossed over her stomach, and the other tapped her chin.
It was a typical Marlowe look, and he kind of forgot about their argument as he watched her finger touching her chin. Then his eyes slid to her cheeks which were bright pink, indicating that she was upset.
Which he found funny. Upset over laundry. Ridiculous. Especially upset over clean laundry. Seriously? And even after working all day, with her hair in a ponytail, and wearing an old T-shirt and loose jeans, she looked good. Her bare feet poked out of the jeans. Her nails were painted some kind of purple-red color. That color didn’t really go with Marlowe’s personality, but it looked kind of cute.
“You’re not even paying attention.”
His head snapped up, and he realized he must have missed at least a line or two of what she’d said. He didn’t usually have trouble keeping his eyes from looking at her. And he couldn’t even blame this on adrenaline. That storm was almost a week ago.
“I’m sorry. You’re right. I wasn’t paying attention. What color of nail polish is that anyway? Looks like something a teenage girl would wear.”
“Did you just call me old?” Now both hands were planted on her hips, and her anger was only partially feigned.
Uh-oh. This was not easy, funny Marlowe. He didn’t like to be on the receiving end of Marlowe’s anger.
“I was kidding. Totally kidding. That looks like the perfect nail color for a woman of your years.”
“Did you mean to say advanced years? Because I think you paused right there between ‘your’ and ‘years.’” She took a step toward him. Menacing.
Okay, yeah, he didn’t like it when Marlowe was angry at him, but there was some kind of new jolt thing happening in his stomach, and his heart was doing something weird as well.
He shook his head. He needed to get his thoughts straightened out before he screwed everything up for good.
But his feet hadn’t gotten the memo that his brain just sent out, and he moved one step closer to her. “There’s nothing wrong with your age. It’s the same as mine. And I kinda like it.”
That took the wind out of her sails, and she deflated almost visibly before his eyes.
She shook her head. “I don’t know why that upset me so much. You’re right. You are the same age as me. I guess I’m just completely shocked to see that someone in the industrialized world would do laundry like this. It’s just unimaginable. I never suspected that you were a closet...I don’t even know what to call it. Crazy. No one does laundry like that.”
“I bet all of my brothers do laundry like that. I can’t imagine any one of them takes the time to separate socks and underwear from jeans and shirts, and what did you say about you can’t wash red or something? Who ever heard of that?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Her tongue came out and touched her lip.
He shook his head, losing his train of thought as he kinda watched what she was doing. Only for a couple seconds. Then he turned abruptly away. “I’m gonna take these upstairs and put them away.”
He walked away. Man, he had to stop acting stupid around Marlowe. He couldn’t even concentrate on an argument he’d obviously been winning.
“I said I was sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean to insult the way you do laundry. You can do whatever you want with your clothes. I’ll just start washing Huck’s things, okay?”
He reached the stairs and started up, answering without looking back. “Sure. You can wash anybody’s clothes you want to.”
“As long as I can do it my way.”
“Sure. Do it your way.”
“HAVE A GREAT AFTERNOON,” Marlowe said to Mr. Bovary as he nodded at her, then picked up his bag of cat food and a packet of sweet corn seeds and walked out of the store.
She looked at the customers that just came in. Mr. and Mrs. Cromwell and their four children browsed the aisles.
Their children, all too young for school, were always well behaved, although Mr. Cromwell was so mean and nasty to his wife sometimes that Marlowe just wanted to grab a hold of him and knock his head against the wall.
She wasn’t normally a violent person. But Mrs. Cromwell was about the nicest person ever. She completely exemplified dignity, grace, and the Bible teaching of meekness. Or maybe deference. Whatever it was, Marlowe admired her almost as much as she pitied her.
She glanced at her watch. The kids were getting out of school early today, and Clark had agreed to pick them up since they were ahead on the corn planting.
Jill was scheduled to arrive at the feed store anytime, since she was going to meet them there so Marlowe could say goodbye to them before they left for the weekend. She wouldn’t see either Huck or Kylie until late Sunday night.
“Go out to the car and get my wallet.” Mr. Cromwell’s voice carried down the aisle. He didn’t sound particularly nice, and he definitely didn’t say please. But Mrs. Cromwell smiled graciously, and with the baby in her arms, and holding onto the hand of their second youngest, she started toward the door.
Mr. Cromwell had his cart next to the dog food aisle, and he was putting a fifty-pound sack in it.
Mr. Long, the manager of the feed store, met Marlowe as she was walking around the counter to straighten up the glove display. He motioned for her to come toward him and leaned down to her ear.
“Mr. Cromwell hasn’t been paying on his account. If he wants to buy anything today, it will have to be cash or card only. We can’t finance anything more until he’s current.”
Marlowe nodded. That was the least favorite part of her job. Normally, she didn’t work the counter at all. She was usually in the back invoicing and doing paperwork; however, Shanna, the normal clerk, was off today.
Mrs. Cromwell came back in with Mr. Cromwell’s wallet, pushing the door with her hip and holding it with her foot for her little one to walk through.
If that wasn’t the way it always was, Marlowe might not be so upset about it, but Mr. Cromwell almost acted like he didn’t have children. He never seemed to notice that they were around, and Mrs. Cromwell was always the one carrying them and taking care of them as well as doing whatever her husband commanded.
Marlowe had seen Mr. Cromwell yell at his wife when she didn’t move fast enough to his commands, so she supposed Mrs. Cromwell was keeping the peace by doing the man’s bidding. Some folks around town called her a doormat and said she should leave him, but Marlowe admired a woman who kept her marriage vows—the worse part of for better or worse—and did it with a smile.
Of course, if there were actual physical abuse going on – which Marlowe had never had any reason to suspect – that would be a completely different story.
Still, it was enough to make any woman cautious. Better to not be married at all than to be married to a miserable jerk who put zero effort into being a good husband and father.
Mrs. Cromwell smiled at her as she walked by, and Marlowe said hi. Then she went back to straightening the gloves.
It was barely five minutes later when the Cromwell family came to the counter to check out, and Marlowe went back behind the counter.
“Did you find everything okay?” she asked Mr. Cromwell pleasantly.
“Where’s your free stuff? I didn’t find that display.”
“That’s probably because there isn’t one, Mr. Cromwell.” Marlowe grabbed the hand scanner and came around the counter to scan the dog food.
“I’ll have to file a complaint about that. Get the checkbook out, Myra.”
Marlowe’s chest eased. She wasn’t going to have to confront him about his delinquent account if they were paying for their order with a check.
She came back around and told him the total. “I can print the check from the register if you want me to.”
“Oh, that would be great.” Mrs. Cromwell looked up and started to hand the check over.
“No. Write it out yourself,” Mr. Cromwell commanded.
Marlowe gritted her teeth while trying hard not
to look like she was gritting her teeth. The ignorance of the man was so frustrating. He wasn’t even trying to be nice.
She supposed there were lots of people in the world like that, but it was hard for her to swallow. Didn’t he ever think that he might be a miserable jerk to live with? Did it occur to him that maybe he could try to be nice to his family? Or at least appreciate the fact that he had a pretty amazing wife who was raising fantastic kids and who put up with his selfish jerkishness?
She doubted it. Sometimes, the world just wasn’t fair.
The bell tinkled. Marlowe looked up as Mrs. Cromwell finished writing out the check. Her face broke into a grin as Huck held the door and Kylie walked in followed by Clark. Marlowe smiled even bigger as Kylie said very primly, “Thank you, Huck.”
She loved that Clark was teaching Huck to hold the door, and she loved that Kylie remembered to say “thank you” without her being there to prompt her. Clark’s eyes met hers across the storeroom, and they grinned together. She didn’t think about how she knew, but she was sure he was thinking the same thing as she was about the children and their manners.
The kids had been in the store often enough that they knew not to run to her while she was waiting on a customer, and they stayed back with Clark.
The Cromwells left shortly after, with Marlowe making sure to give Mrs. Cromwell an extra smile. She tried to keep the pity off her face while she did so. Everybody had different trials to work through, and dealing with that man on a daily basis with the patience that she showed would form Mrs. Cromwell into a really amazing person. But it still grated on Marlowe’s nerves the way that man treated her.
“Jill’s not here yet?” Clark asked when they left.
“Nope.”
“I figured she would be, since I’m a little late. We had a shoe we couldn’t find at home. It was Kylie’s, so I wasn’t sure whether it was actually in my house or in your house.”
Marlowe laughed. “That would be a problem, wouldn’t it?”
“It was under my bed,” Kylie said with downturned lips, like she was frustrated with herself for losing her shoe.
“It’s good you found it. Losing things will happen throughout your life. Might as well accept it and move on.” Marlowe wasn’t sure that was exactly the right thing to say to her daughter, but some of the tightened lines of Kylie’s face eased, so it must have helped a little.
The bell rang again, and Jill walked in.
Jill was as sweet as Dana wasn’t, and Marlowe loved her. She wouldn’t mind her mother-in-law being just as wonderful. If she ever had a mother-in-law.
The kids ran to her, throwing their arms around her and both of them talking at once about all the things they wanted to do.
Jill came over and chatted for just a bit, but it was a long ride home, and they had a big afternoon planned, so she didn’t stay. Kylie hugged Marlowe, and they were soon gone.
“It never gets easier, does it?” Clark said as the door shut behind them, the bell ringing in the silence of the store.
“I think it gets harder,” Marlowe said with a sigh. The gloom that almost always settled over her when Kylie walked out weighed heavy on her chest.
“Are you off at three today?”
“Two-thirty, actually.”
“I have a couple of errands I need to run—I need to go to the post office and the hardware store—how about I grab some subs and some snack-y things. That’ll make it a little easier when we have to face the empty house. Actually, we can go eat them somewhere and put the empty house off even longer.”
Marlowe nodded, appreciating his consideration. Of course, it was partly for him too. She knew it was as hard for him to see Huck leave as it was for her to see Kylie go, but still, facing the empty, quiet house was always tough.
“That sounds fantastic.” She put her hand on Clark’s arm. It wasn’t something she normally thought about, but as soon as she did, she was aware of his skin and his heat and his scent in ways that she never had been before.
She tried to push all that aside and to just be sincere with what she wanted to say. “I know you have brothers and friends that you could spend an evening with, and I appreciate you thinking of me and realizing that this is just as hard for me as it is for you. I’m saying it badly... Just... Thank you so much for being so considerate. I appreciate it.”
Maybe it was seeing how awful Mr. Cromwell was to his wife, and realizing that Clark was his opposite in every way, or maybe it was just the recent storm and the brush with disaster.
“Would you stop being so sappy. You’re gonna make me cry.” His dimple flashed, and she knew he was joking, mostly.
“There’s nothing wrong with men who cry.”
“In Missouri, there is.”
“Oh, stop it. You can admit that you miss him, and that you’re sad that he’s gone, and you can also say ‘you’re welcome’ whenever I say thank you for something. There’s nothing wrong with admitting that you’re doing something nice and accepting my appreciation. Stop being such a man.”
“What? You want me to be a woman?” he asked in mock horror. “I’m not one of those people who think that can be changed.”
“You would be a really ugly woman. Just saying.”
“That does not hurt my feelings. Just so you know it, Low Beam.”
“I wasn’t trying to hurt your tender feelings, Gable. I was just stating a fact.”
“Well, for the record, let me state the fact that I agree with you that I would make a really ugly woman.” He wiggled his brows at her. “I also have to say that you would make a really cute guy.”
Marlowe’s mouth opened and closed. She didn’t even know what to say to that. “You are the weirdest person I have ever met. Who says that to people?”
“Would you two stop? You guys hang out in here bickering like children. I mean it’s nonstop. There’s no rest for the weary.” Mr. Long came over to the counter and stood at the end between Marlowe and Clark.
“She started it.”
“I did not. You’re the one who said I would make a cute guy.”
Mr. Long put his hand up. “Marlowe, you are a great employee, until Clark shows up. When he comes in, it’s like you become a whole different person, and the responsible, professional adult that works in this store all of a sudden becomes a teenaged girl again.”
Marlowe tilted her head and lifted a shoulder. “I’m down for being a teenager again. Maybe nineteen. I like the sound of that age.”
“Marlowe, you’re completely missing his point. He called you immature.” Clark straightened, like making himself taller somehow made him more mature, too. “Grow up.”
Mr. Long put both hands on the counter. “It’s not just her. You are a responsible man who’s in charge of hundreds of acres of agricultural ground and does an amazing job with it every single year, but you act like a simpleton around Marlowe. It ought to be illegal for you two to be around each other.”
Mr. Long shook his head, a little smile on his face. Marlowe knew he was just messing with them. Pretty much anyway. The man had been the manager of the store since Clark and she had been toddlers. Every once in a while, he threatened to retire, but she didn’t think Clark’s family could run the feed store without him.
“Marlowe, you only have fifteen more minutes. Go ahead and go. You were in early a couple of days this week anyway.”
Marlowe knew her face brightened. She loved her job, truly, but it was Friday and she’d already watched Huck and Kylie walk away. Now she didn’t have to watch Clark go, too. “That’s great. Thanks.”
“I’ll wait in the pickup for you, since you and I shouldn’t be seen together. Apparently, there are too many brain cells in the air when you and I get together. Or something like that,” Clark said as he winked at Mr. Long and sauntered to the door.
“I don’t know whose brain cells they would be, because mine stay in my head, and you don’t have any,” Marlowe called as she ducked into the office to hang up her vest and gather he
r things.
Chapter 12
“Whose idea was this?” Marlowe huffed from behind Clark as they climbed the small hill to the remote water tower outside of town.
“Yours,” Clark said easily without turning his head to look around at her. After all, he didn’t want her to see the smile on his lips. “If it’s a bad idea. Mine, if it’s a good one.”
“Gable. I’m warning you.”
“Low Beam, I’m ignoring you.”
“Oh my goodness. Would you slow down? I must be really out of shape.”
She was kinda huffing. And he was walking faster than he needed to. He was huffing too; he just didn’t want her to know it and so had been trying to do it quietly.
He paused for a second, long enough for her to catch up and for him to grab her hand.
That wasn’t part of their usual friend routine. He wasn’t really sure why he did it. He’d been doing a lot of strange things lately though, and that’s what he’d have to blame it on.
Whatever it was, both of them stopped breathing. For what felt like hours but was really only a second or two.
Marlowe swallowed, loud in the outside stillness as her widened eyes looked at the linked hands between them, almost like they weren’t theirs. Like those clasped hands were some kind of space rock floating in the air between them.
Clark’s eyes dropped, and he looked at their hands, too. He hadn’t meant to grab hers, or hadn’t thought about grabbing it, but he didn’t regret it. He’d spent a lot of time castigating himself for the thoughts he’d been starting to think about Marlowe and worrying about the impact on their friendship.
But today, just before he got into the feed store, as he had Kylie and Huck in his pickup, he’d wondered, maybe he was approaching it from a position of fear.
Maybe he shouldn’t live his life from that position.
He never had before.
Being with Marlowe felt right. Not that he thought he should live according to his feelings either. But the Lord had given him a good best friend. Everything he’d ever heard about marriage indicated that the best ones were ones in which the couple were also best friends.
Best Friends in the Show Me State Page 10
