Actions Speak Louder (5 page)

She forced a smile.  “I’m fine.  Sorry.  Just thinking about all the work waiting for me at the store.” 

Okay, she thought, she hadn’t just told a lie, since there was always work waiting for her at the store, but it wasn’t entirely the truth.  The truth was, she wasn’t the least bit pleased to be joining him for lunch.  He was too good looking, too close to home—literally—and potentially a distraction she simply didn’t need right now. 

“I don’t mean to get too personal, but is business going well?” he asked her.

She weighed the question with side-to-side tilts of her head.  “Well, we have good days and bad days.  Typical with a new business,” she added briskly.

“Do you primarily sell to customers with do-it yourself projects?” he inquired.

She nodded.  “Yes.  Occasionally, we fill an order for a business or construction firm, but our typical customer is the weekend warrior intent on ticking an item or two off the ‘Honey-do’ list.” 

He nodded with a sheepish grin.  “Well, you’ll probably be seeing a lot of me in your store.”

That’s what I’m afraid of
, she thought, but didn’t give voice to her concern.  Instead, she did her best to look cheerful.  “So, have you made any big decisions relating to your house?”

He snared her gaze and bit back a laugh.  “As in, have you decided to tear it down and start over, ‘you big dummy’?” 

She gave a sheepish grin, alerting him to the fact that the question had crossed her mind.  “Well, okay, yes.  Minus the ‘big dummy’ part, of course.”  She leaned forward in the seat.  “Are you sure you want to take on a big project like that.  It might be wise to hire someone to come in and…”

“I have,” he admitted, smiling.  “I have a crew coming later this afternoon.”  He didn’t mention it was his crew.  Should he mention that detail now?  He raked a hand through his hair and scrubbed a hand across his jaw. 

Marcia watched the emotions crisscross his face, intrigued by the flitting expressions.  Something was bothering him.  He was probably feeling overwhelmed by the home renovation he was about to embark upon.  She would be.

“Well, I think you’re on the right track,” she assured him.  “Sometimes it’s just better to go with the experts when it comes to a project of that magnitude.”

He grinned then.  “A project of that magnitude?  It’s a tiny house.”

“Well, that’s true but…”

“A small house with a lot of problems,” he said, giving voice to her thoughts again.

“Well…”  She laughed.  “I don’t mean to squelch your enthusiasm.  I’ll just … shut up.”

“No, no,” he said quickly.  “I don’t want you to do that.  Feel free to express your opinions.”

“I think I just did,” she admitted with a chuckle.  “So, are you going to gut the place?”

He nodded his head ruefully.  “Yeah, that’s the plan.  I do know I should just level it and start over, but I just can’t do that.  I want to retain as much of it as possible, since…”  He gave a sad smile.

“Since the house is special to you,” she finished for him.

He met her gaze.  “Yes.  It is.”

“Well, as I said, if I can help in any way…” 

Good grief
, she thought with alarm,
I’m my own worst enemy
.  She didn’t have the time, or the inclination, really, to lend her expertise to the remodel.  Besides, she was actually a novice herself in many ways.  Indeed, she was a quick learner, but she had so much more to learn.

“I appreciate your willingness to help,” he told her, wondering again, should he tell her now that he was actually an expert in home construction and repair, and that after several years of attending school at night, he had gained the skills to expand both his business and the size of his projects.  Instead, he asked, “So, have you done many improvements to your own home?”

She nodded.  “I actually gutted the interior of my place too.  I took it down to the studs.  The place is over fifty years old, so I had to start over with new wiring and plumbing…”

“You wired and plumbed it yourself?” he asked with alarm.

She gave a reassuring smile.  “No.  I called in the experts for that.  I do know my limitations.  Well, sometimes,” she added drolly, but perked up.  “I did frame in the rooms, did the drywall, and finish work.”

“You did?” he said, stunned.

“Yeah, I mean, it was a sort of learn-as-you-go thing, and I spent a lot of time running to my computer to check out home improvement sites for help with specific questions, but I got it done.”

“Wow,” he said, admiration in his voice.

“Yeah,” she declared smiling.  “I installed all my floors and reconfigured the kitchen.  Of course, I needed help hanging the upper cabinets, but the rest I managed to do on my own.”

“Wow,” he echoed.  “Uh, did your other half help?  I mean, I’m assuming you’re the ‘better half’ in Better Half Hardware.”

The instant he asked the question, he saw the flash of pain in her eyes.  He regretted asking it and wished he could simply take it back.  Marcia rallied, however, and answered him in a too cheerful voice.

“Uh, well, the truth is, my now ex-husband wasn’t too handy.”  She gave a dismissive wave.  “And that’s okay,” she said in a soothing tone, reaching across the table to pat his arm.  “We all have talents in different areas.  We all can’t be good with tools.”

He realized immediately that she’d pegged him as helpless when it came to home repair.  Now was probably the time to straighten some things out.  Now was probably the time to tell her he had started his own construction company at the age of twenty and had grown it into the largest and most successful in town, with commercial ventures taking up most of his time now. 

His current project was a high-rise in the heart of downtown, however, his brother-in-law was currently the go-to guy on the project.  And interestingly, he was fine with that.  That was an epiphany.

Marcia watched his face again, intrigued by the conflicting emotions there.  Finally, his expression relaxed.  “That’s true,” he said neutrally, “for some of us, tools are simply foreign objects.” 

For some people anyway, but not him.  He gulped and then picked up his sandwich and took a bite.  He glanced behind Marcia, at some distant point on the wall. 

“Is everything all right?” she asked him with concern.  He really seemed torn up about something.

He attempted a smile.  “Well, there’s something I should probably tell you.”

She perked her brows.  “Oh?  Okay.”

He opened his mouth to speak, when suddenly, the girl who had been at the hardware store earlier, talking to Marcia, burst into the restaurant. 

“Marcia, I thought you might be here.  I need to talk to you!” Collette cried eagerly.  She dropped into the seat beside Ethan, barely giving him a glance as she bumped hard against his shoulder.  She practically bounced with excitement.

“Collette,” Marcia said, smiling.  “You seem in good spirits.”

“I am!” she declared.

“Tell me all about it,” she urged, but suddenly remembered Ethan, who had slid to the edge of his seat and was currently pressed against the wall beside him.  “Oh, Ethan, this is Collette, Collette, Ethan.”

The girl turned to him briefly, but did a double take.  She narrowed her eyes, giving him an obvious, assessing glance.  She turned to Marcia and glared at her.  “Hey, aren’t
you
the one who just gave me advice about passing on the pretty boys?”  She glanced around.  “Where’s
his
friend?  Where’s
his
sidekick?”

Marcia burst out with a horrified gasp, and Ethan’s jaw dropped. 

Pretty boy
? he thought.  Had the teenager really just called
him
a pretty boy?  Heck, his hair was weeks past a cut, he had stubble on his jaw, and he was wearing a flannel shirt and Carhartt pants. 
Pretty boy
?  Hardly.

Marcia gave him an alarmed glance, a look of abject embarrassment on her face, as she directed her words to the teenager.  “Collette, Ethan is my neighbor.  We’ve really only just met.  And he’s not a…”  Her words trailed off.

Good grief.  Had she nearly told the teen that Ethan wasn’t a pretty boy?  Heck, how would she know?  Arguably, he looked more rough and rugged than pretty boy, but who knew?  She refused to stereotype him.  It simply wouldn’t be fair to him.  An inability to operate a tool or a power tool did not necessarily a pretty boy make, nor did dusty workwear make a tough guy. 

Jay had certainly looked like an authentic outdoorsman in his outdoor workwear, which he’d donned every time he pulled the lawn mower from the shed—so
she
could mow the lawn.  She hated to admit it, but … Jay
was
a pretty boy. 

And why was it that she had always mowed the lawn? she wondered, in a sudden burst of awareness. Was the man helpless?  And why hadn’t she asked that very question when she was still married to the …
pretty boy
!

Wow, she was certainly having a lot of epiphanies lately, she acknowledged.  She guessed it was like that—that after time and space away from a former love interest, one had a better ability to see him more clearly.  And she was suddenly seeing her ex through sparklingly clearer eyes.  

“Marcia!” Collette cried.  “I’m talking!  Are you listening to me?”         

She shook her head, ejecting memories of Jay from her brain. 

Ethan watched her briefly with concern, and then turned to Collette.  “I’m not a pretty boy,” he said in a monotone voice.

“Whatever.”  She promptly dismissed him, turning back to Marcia.  “First, you really need to practice what you preach, but I’ll forgive you for now, since I want to tell you something.”  She clapped her hands excitedly, reminding Marcia of a much younger child.

“Okaaay, fill me in,” she prompted, shooting Ethan an apologetic glance.  He simply picked up his water glass and took a long pull, in what she surmised was an attempt to look manly.

“Okay, anyway,” Collette said.  “I went back to school today.  You know, after talking to you.  I ran right into Chad, and Drew was beside him.  Chad was just standing there, you know, looking all smug and arrogant, and watching me like he wanted to see me break down crying or something…”

“Oh, no!” Marcia cried, her heart going out to the girl.  “I’m sorry…”

“No, it’s okay,” she said with a dismissive wave.  “Anyway, I completely ignored him and turned to Drew.  I said, ‘Hey, Drew.’”  She grinned gleefully.

“Go on,” Marcia urged.

“Okay, so yeah, I said, ‘Hey, Drew,’ and he kind of looked around surprised.”  She giggled again.  “Chad
really
looked surprised.”

“I’ll bet he did,” Marcia said, glancing at Ethan.  He attempted a smile, but it came off more as a smirk.  She gave him a questioning glance.

Oh, was that his cue to say something
?  “Yep, I’m sure he was surprised,” he said without enthusiasm.

Collette nodded.  “Anyway, so then I noticed a poster on the wall about a dance this coming weekend.  And then, Drew saw me reading the poster and turned to Chad.”

“Go on,” Marcia urged.

“Yes.  Go on,” Ethan said, stifling a yawn.

“Okay, so then, Drew turns to Chad and said something like, ‘I know it’s not cool to date your buddy’s ex, but you guys were together for what?  Four days?’”

Marcia’s eyebrows shot up, as did Ethan’s.  “
Four days
?” he gasped.  “You got that worked up over a guy you dated for only four days?”  He shook his head and reached for his water glass again.

“Hey, I loved him!” Collette declared, glaring at him.  “And you don’t quantify love by the days you spend with someone—or the hours, or even the minutes.  It’s about the authenticity of that love, about the…”  The girl stifled a cry, her eyes suddenly welling up with tears. 

Even Ethan looked concerned now.  “Drew’s the better man,” he assured her, and even turned to give her a quick pat on the arm.  He snared Marcia’s gaze and shrugged, and then turned back to Collette.  “Don’t waste your tears on that Chad guy.”

“But I really loved him,” she insisted.

Marcia patted her hand.  “I know you did.  But go on…”

She took a shoring breath.  “Okay, so, Chad says, ‘yeah, we hung out for something like four days.’  And then he laughed and said, ‘four days too many.’” 

“He didn’t!” Marcia cried. 

Collette nodded and hissed, “Oh, yes he did.  The jerk!  I should have hit him, but anyway, so Drew said, ‘Under a week doesn’t qualify, dude.’  And Chad said, ‘What the heck are you talking about?’”

Marcia shook her head, her eyes conveying her confusion.  “I don’t understand…”

Ethan cleared his throat, getting Marcia’s attention.  “He was talking about the unspoken, or sometimes spoken, agreement between buddies where they can’t date a girl the other dated.  It’s all about brotherhood, you know.  That sort of thing.”

“Is there a time constraint on that kind of agreement?” Marcia asked curiously.  “Is the girl off-limits if the guy only dated her for four days?  Are there exceptions to the rule?”

“Oh, there are always exceptions,” Ethan admitted.

Marcia considered his words.  “Well, yeah, we’re talking about men here,” she conceded with a sad smile.