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He wondered what business this woman was in, but had his answer when he noticed the decal on the center pocket on her overalls:  Better Half Hardware.

He aimed a finger at the emblem, which featured the name of the store within a bright, yellow daisy.  “Is that where you work?” he asked with interest.

“Yes.  Actually, I own the place.”

He shook his head, perplexed.  “I don’t think I know it.”          

“We’re located on Fifth and Main.”  She checked her watch.  “Well, I really need to get moving.”

“I’m Ethan.”  He thrust out a hand in greeting, which she briefly shook.  He aimed a glance at the bungalow.  “My grandparents used to live here.  I spent a lot of time here when I was a kid.”

Marcia nodded, turning to leave. 

“And you are?” he persisted.

She turned back.  “I apologize for my rudeness.  I’m Marcia Elton.  I think … I knew your grandmother.  I moved in next door about five years ago…”

“And she moved out about four and a half years ago,” he said.  “So you were neighbors for six months or so.”

“I hated to see her go,” Marcia said, smiling fondly.  She remembered the sweet elderly woman who had given her baskets of fruit over the summer, when she and her now ex-husband had first moved in.

She was suddenly lost to her thoughts, her mind flooding with memories of her first year in the house.  She had had such high hopes then—had looked forward to making a life with Jay within the walls of the small, older home. 

It hadn’t taken long for her hopes to be dashed, despite the fact that she had gone into matrimony with her eyes wide open.  She’d had no illusions that marriage is easy, and had been fully prepared to do whatever it took to make her relationship a successful one.  Unfortunately, her husband had lacked the same commitment.

“So, you own a hardware store?” Ethan said, interrupting her thoughts. 

She glanced up, her brows furrowed in a frown.  She did that a lot when she thought about Jay.  Frown.  She shook her head to clear it of thoughts of her ex, and nodded in answer to his question.  “Yes.”

Ethan wondered what had put that troubled expression on her face.  Had he said something wrong?  He sure hoped he hadn’t been responsible for that sorrowful look.   

“Then I suppose you are sort of an expert on carpenter ants,” he said, folding his muscular arms over his chest and eyeing her intently.       

She couldn’t help but smile at his characterization of her as an expert at or on anything.  “Actually, I’m a Jill of all trades, and master of none,” she admitted with a rueful smile.  “But I’m learning.”  She checked her watch again.  “I really do need to run.  Lots of work to do.  Uh, welcome to the neighborhood.” 

She started off, but he restrained her with a gentle hand.  “You were going to fill me in on the life and times of carpenter ants,” he reminded her.

She gave an apologetic shrug.  “I’m afraid it’ll have to wait.  I really need to get back to work.”  She distractedly glanced at the bungalow then, taking in the dilapidated siding and sagging roofline.  She couldn’t help the grimace that flitted across her pretty face.  “You have your work cut out for you too,” she observed, and then her eyes widened in alarm.  Had she really just said that out loud?

He chuckled.  “You’re right.  The place needs work, and I’ll be spending the next several months fixing it up.”

“If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask,” she told him.  “Oh, and if you don’t mind, if I happen to see a carpenter ant leaving my property and heading your way, may I follow it?”

“Won’t mind a bit,” he said, and then grinned.  “In fact, I’d be happy to help out if you need me.”         

***

Marcia arrived back to the store late, much to the chagrin of her assistant manager, Angie.  “Where’ve you been?” she asked.  “Mrs. Jones came by for more paint, and was determined you’re the only one capable of helping her choose the right color.”

Marcia smiled.  “Hey, we’re comrades in arms, so to speak.  She knows I know exactly what she’s going through right now.”

“You mean, because you painted every room in your house after Jay left?”

“Yes, and when you’re reeling from the shock of your marriage ending and facing countless decisions alone, it can be absolutely overwhelming.”

Angie looked skeptical.  “The woman is persnickety, if you ask me.”

Marcia smiled sympathetically for her customer.  “Hey, she has every right to be persnickety.  She’s been married for nearly thirty years.  Can you imagine having to start over after so many years of marriage?”

Angie looked repentant.  “I’m sorry.  I know I should cut her some slack.  Lord knows, I know what you’ve been through, and until you watch someone you care about go through a divorce, you really don’t understand how painful it can be, do you?”

“It’s true.  Until I went through it myself, I didn’t have a clue.”  Marcia’s heart broke for the older woman.  She was nearing sixty and was still feeling a bit shell shocked at the prospect of being alone.  “Enough divorce talk,” she said briskly.  “Mine’s final, and…”

“And we’re going to celebrate the beginning of your new life,” Angie said eagerly.  “Now, if Jay would just go away and stay away,” she added with a sour expression on her face.

Since Jay had initiated the divorce, his determination to fight Marcia every step of the way during the end of their marriage had come as a surprise to her and everyone else.  He had even asked for the house, despite the fact that she had put a substantial down payment on it prior to their wedding.  Fortunately, the judge saw things her way, but she knew things could just as easily have gone in his favor and she could be looking for a new home.

She forced away thoughts of Jay. 
New life
, she thought. 

“Hey, did the drywall delivery come in?” she asked.  “I know Mr. Jenkins is eager to get busy on his new room.”

“Not yet.  I’ll make a phone call and check on it if you’d like.”

“That’d be great,” she said. 

Angie hurried to the back office to make the call, while Marcia turned toward the main entrance to the store when she heard the tinkling of the bell above it.  Her eyes widened.  In walked Ethan, the man she had met just a short while before.

She watched him stride confidently toward her, his blue eyes full of good humor.  When he reached her, he grinned.  “Hello.”  He glanced around him.  “Nice place you have here.  How long did you say you’ve been here?”

“I didn’t actually say.  I’ve been here six months.  Six … long … months,” she said in measured tones.

He watched her intently, and then broke into a sympathetic smile.  “Tough time to be opening a small business.” 

She conceded his point with a nod.  “Well, if I fail, it won’t be for lack of trying.”  She looked around self-consciously, but forced herself to make eye contact.  “What can I do for you?”

He glanced around the store again, taking in the rows of hardware supplies and assorted bins full of smaller items.  “I’m looking for a new … hammer.”

“Oh, sure, follow me.”  She took him directly to the tool aisle, pointing out the assortment of hammers.  He picked one up.  It featured a pink handle with a coordinating polka dot ribbon tied to it.

His brows furrowed into a frown.  “They make hammers specifically for women now,” he said in surprise, studying the shiny tool and testing its weight.

“Absolutely,” she told him.  “And they’re big sellers.”  She flashed a grin.  “I wouldn’t necessarily recommend
you
buy that particular hammer since your buddies may give you a hard time, but…”  She gave a shrug.  “If you like it, then by all means…  Who am I to judge?”

He glanced at her with alarm, and then put the hammer back on the hook where it had been hanging.  “No, I’ll stick with your standard, run-of-the-mill variety,” he said, giving her a baleful look as he pulled one off the rack.

“It’s probably for the best,” she agreed, forcing back a smile.   

He gave her a questioning glance.  Was she teasing him?  When he saw the sparkle of humor in her eyes, he knew she had been.  He reached for the girly hammer again.  “I think I
will
pick this one up for my sister.”

She nodded.  “Anything else I can help you with?”

He cocked his head, thinking.  “You know, I can always use a new tape measure.”

Ethan tossed his purchases onto the front seat of his truck.  He’d made a quick decision to check out the hardware store, after having met Marcia earlier.  He’d purposely not driven his work truck, for fear she’d see his business logo on the side.  He wasn’t sure what had prompted him to take steps to conceal his identity from her, not that she cared who he was one way or the other, he conceded.

He did wonder, was she married?  He recalled the name of her store.  “Better Half.”  Usually, the term applied to the female component in a marriage, but then, that didn’t necessarily have to be the case.  Maybe the name had no relevance to her at all.  Maybe she had simply kept the store name when she bought it.

He glanced over at the bag containing the hammers and tape measure.  What had possessed him to buy them?  He only had a hundred or so of his own, and most were of far better quality than these.  And as for the pink hammer, his sister Holly would probably use it to clunk him upside his head. 

Although she could wield a hammer with the best of them, having been taught by their father, she was a girly girl who had little interest in strapping on a tool belt.  But then, why would she?  Her husband worked alongside Ethan at his company, E. J. Winslow Construction, so she had a live-in handyman.

Shaking his head ruefully, he knew what had possessed him to buy the items.  It had been a means to see Marcia again, to check out her place of business, and to get a better sense of her as a person. 

He hadn’t seen a ring on her finger, although he knew that didn’t necessarily mean anything.  In her line of work, it was safer to forgo wearing jewelry of any kind.  She could always catch a ring on a sharp edge, which could cause real damage to a finger or hand.

Did she have a husband?  He sure hoped not.  Wow, he thought, what the heck was happening to him?  Since when did he become so intrigued by a woman he’d just met that he tracked her down at her place of business and made unnecessary, impromptu purchases? 

The fact was, six months before, his serious, long term relationship had ended—well, his ex had ended it.  It was too soon for another relationship, or to even contemplate another relationship.

But then, this woman was a polar opposite to Gwen.  He shook his head as he tried to envision her in a pair of overalls.  There was no way his pristine and polished former girlfriend would be caught dead in workwear, let alone a pair of overalls. 

Ethan headed back to his corporate offices, ducking in briefly to grab some correspondence from his desk.  He left as quickly as he’d arrived.  He was on vacation—the first in too many years to count.  Having spent the last ten years building his business, he’d had little time for play—at that had been fine.  But at the urging of his family, he’d taken some time off, leaving the business in the capable hands of his brother-in-law, Thomas.  He couldn’t deny, he needed a break.

Not that he was going to have much downtime during his vacation.  Having been willed the bungalow by his recently deceased grandmother, he planned to spend his time fixing it up.  Once done, he intended to live there.  Of course, that meant selling his high-rise condo, but that suited him fine.  The home had never suited
him
.  It had, however, suited Gwen.

He arrived back at the bungalow, parked his truck in the driveway, and jogged to the covered back porch.  He took the steps two at a time, stopping midway just long enough to study the dilapidated structure.  Like the rest of the house, it was in sad shape.  The presence of the carpenter ants only added insult to an already injured house.

Stepping into the mudroom, and then into the kitchen, he came to a stop and did a slow turn.  The sight of the run-down room never failed to bring him to a pause.  The renters who had lived here the last four years had definitely taken a toll on the place.  These folks hadn’t cared a whit for it, essentially letting it fall down around them.  But then, they had no reason to have any pride in the home, since they had no ownership—though he had to admit that he was confounded by their total lack of regard for someone else’s property.  Additionally, they had
lived
here, so he would have thought they would have taken better care it.    

A feeling of guilt washed over him.  Why hadn’t
he
kept better tabs on the condition of the place?  He or other family members should have evicted the renters within months of their move-in date and brought in responsible tenants.  Why hadn’t he been more concerned about the state of his grandmother’s home?—a home where he had spent so much time as a child.

He knew the answer.  He’d been too focused on his business, on his own life to give much thought to a tiny bungalow across town from his condo.  He smiled sadly.  “I’ll take care of it now, Grandma,” he vowed, aloud.  “I promise you.”

He would restore this place for his grandmother, and only then would he turn his full attention back to his work.