Actions Speak Louder (9 page)

Marcia gasped, taking a step closer to him.  “We do?”

He directed her to the far corner of the attic, where several wooden boxes were stacked.  “Look, do you see them?”

“What?” she asked, shaking her head.  She finally gave a shaky laugh.  “I see a couple pairs of red eyes.”

“Yep,” he said with a sigh.  “And I can’t … quite make out what they belong to?” 

“Possums or raccoons?” she asked.

“Either way, we’re going to back out of here, and I’ll come back tomorrow with traps,” he said.  “I’m not about to get into a tussle with either animal.  I have to consider your safety too.”

He took her hand and led her to the ladder leading down.  He helped her get her footing on the first rung, and then stood by, watchful, as she carefully climbed down.  He followed, and then gave the ladder a tug and it folded, rising up to lay flush behind the pull-down door in the ceiling.

“Well, at least it wasn’t a human intruder,” he declared with some relief.

“And it wasn’t the roof caving in.”

The two stood awkwardly in the hallway, and Ethan suddenly remembered he was wearing the boxer shorts.  “I’ll be … right back.” 

He strode into his bedroom, grabbed a pair of jeans off the floor, and was fastening them as he approached her.  He’d draped a t-shirt over his shoulder and pulled it over his head and arms in an easy motion.  “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“You don’t have to,” she told him.

“Oh, yes I do,” he told her in a voice that defied argument.

She shrugged.  “Okay.”

Back at her own front door, she found her house key in the large pocket that spanned the front of her robe.  “Thanks for walking me back,” she said, smiling.  “I’ll see you later.”

He nodded as she turned to enter the house.  “Hey,” he called softly, “are you sure you don’t want to talk?  I’m here if you need me.”

She turned back.  “I’m fine,” she said, attempting a smile.  She couldn’t quite pull it off.  Here was a virtual stranger, willing to listen to her after sensing she was hurting, yet—her own husband had never shown her the same consideration. 

Yet another epiphany.

“Thanks, Ethan,” she said softly.

***

Marcia collapsed back in her bed, patting the spaces on either side of her.  The dogs obediently trotted up the doggie stairs she had recently purchased, that gave them easy access to the too-high bed.  They settled in beside her, Allie yawning and Tootsie burrowing into the blankets.

Still feeling wide awake, Marcia stared at the ceiling.  The night had been rife with suspense.  Would she be able to fall back to sleep?

When the dogs had awakened her, and she had decided to investigate, she had been terrified to see the man breaking into Ethan’s house.  It hadn’t even occurred to her to call the police first, from the safety of her place, rather than to call out to the thief and then call for reinforcements.  What had she been thinking?

As Ethan pointed out, she could have been hurt.  She sighed.  What was the old adage?  Fools rush in.  Well, she had been a fool, but apparently there was something in her makeup that had prompted her to, well, rush in.

She had always been a can-do person, and since she’d had a husband who always allowed her
to do
, it simply didn’t occur to her to turn to someone else, even if that someone else was actually several someones, in the form of the local law.

Marcia rose slightly in the bed and punched her pillow.  She fell back against it, staring at the ceiling.   Moonlight slanted across the room, brightening it considerably, and making it hard for her to sleep.  She’d always preferred a dark room for sleeping.  She sighed again and shot a frustrated glance at her slightly parted curtains.  That little gap in the window coverings allowed so much light in. 

But at least she had window coverings!

What was Ethan thinking, sleeping in that front bedroom with no curtains to shield him from probing eyes?    

***

Ethan stood at the window in his bedroom, looking out over the neighborhood.  As his eyes did a pass over the homes across the street, alert for any sign of would-be burglars, they lit on the upper window of the house directly across from him.  He blinked.  Had he just spotted someone standing in the window?

He glanced at the alarm clock beside his mattress.  It was after three.  Who would be up at this hour?  He rubbed his eyes, and then looked closely at that window again.  Nothing there now.  He must have been seeing things.

He turned and dropped onto the mattress, wondering, would he be able to fall asleep?  Was Marcia asleep next door?

He was thankful to her that she’d seen the guy trying to break in, and had stopped him before he’d gained entrance, but he grimaced when he thought about her shouting at the crook, exposing herself to possible harm—rather than returning to her house and calling the police from the safety of her home.

What had prompted her to take a risk like that?  Maybe it was just her nature, he reasoned.  He doubted she viewed any problem as too big.  He’d seen evidence of that.  Heck, the woman had taken her own house down to the studs.  He didn’t know all that many men who could, or would, do that.  Frankly, he had nothing but respect for her and her determination to learn everything she could about home repair, so she could handle things on her own, without having to turn to others.

But … why would she be so resistant to turning to others for help?  Heck, he might not always like to admit it when he needed help, but when he did, he readily sought it out.  He had pride, of course, but he’d been known to swallow it on more than a few occasions.  

Suddenly, he remembered how she had welled up in the living room, when he had told her she should have called the police, rather than confronted the bad guy on her own.  Why had that remark touched her in such an emotional way?  He suspected, the reasons behind it couldn’t be good.

With a sigh, he turned to his side, willing sleep to come.

After several hours of tossing and turning, Marcia woke to the sound of her alarm buzzing.  As tempted as she was to clock the clock, she turned it off and rose with a weary sigh.  If she hadn’t been expecting a big delivery at the store, she might have considered taking the day off.  But she knew she was needed to assure the delivery was correct, since Angie
had
taken the day off, and her newest hire hadn’t been adequately trained to sign off on the orders.

She readied for the day and finally climbed into her car.  She cast a hesitant glance at the bungalow beside her.  All was quiet.  She wondered if Ethan had managed to get any sleep after his exciting night.

Hadn’t he mentioned he had a crew coming to work on his house?  Or was that yesterday?  Oh well, she thought, it wasn’t her business, or her problem, if indeed there was some problem.

At the store, she completed her opening routine, and then settled in to await customers.  She didn’t have to wait for long and she was kept busy for several hours. 

It occurred to her as she was mixing paint that her big delivery had yet to arrive.  Part of the order had been placed by Angie and included twenty cans of paint for a customer who intended to use it on the interior of a huge shop in her back yard, in order to turn it into an art studio.  The woman was eager to receive the paint so she could get started. 

Marcia grimaced, remembering the color.  It was a mustard yellow hue, a special order she didn’t stock, and if possible, was less attractive in person than the real thing.  Why the woman had fallen in love with it, she had no idea.

It was odd the order was late, so she hurried to the back of the store to place a quick call to the paint supply company.  The customer service representative told her that since the order was large, and since they were running slightly off schedule, it would be delayed. 

“Do you know how long it will be until we receive the paint?” Marcia inquired, dreading telling her customer the paint would not be coming today.

“We can guarantee delivery by … Friday … next week.”

Marcia gasped. 
Friday?  Next week?
  “But that’s too long,” she protested.  “My customer is champing at the bit to get that paint.”

She could envision the person at the end of the phone line shrugging as she said, “I’m sorry, but it’s the best we can do under the circumstances.”

She wondered what particular set of circumstances the woman was referring to, and probably should have asked.  Unfortunately, she had already hung up.  It was likely the company was simply inundated with orders.  It had happened before. 

She placed the dreaded call to her customer, a Mrs. Dunneford, who was not pleased.  Apologizing profusely, she offered to throw in a new roller and a paint brush for free, and the customer was adequately placated.  She hung up the phone with a sigh.

Her new employee, a young twenty-something named Stewart, glanced at her with interest.  “Everything all right?”

She forced a smile.  “Everything is fine.”

She followed by hurrying to the back of the store to unload a pallet of PVC piping, and then returned to the front of the store just as a customer walked in.  She immediately recognized Ethan, wearing a baseball cap.  He was whistling a happy tune, as if he’d actually gotten a decent night’s sleep, which she knew full well, he hadn’t.

He approached with a smile.  “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said brightly.  “You?”

“Never been better,” he said cheerfully, and then pulled a small sheet of paper from his pocket.  “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have a couple animal traps, about yay big?” he said, demonstrating the length, width, and height of the desired items.

“It just so happens I do,” she told him, leading him to the other side of the store. 

He selected the traps, carrying one in each hand.  Since they were large and ungainly, she took one from him and led him to the front.  She set hers on the counter, and he followed suit.

“Was there something else you needed?” she asked him.

“Uh, yeah,” he muttered distractedly.  “Do you have something I can use as curtains?”

She bit back a chuckle.  “Really, you need curtains?” she said in a teasing voice.

Apparently, her tone was missed on him, since he only nodded.  “Yeah, I’d better cover up that window in my bedroom.”

“You think?”

He gave her a bewildered glance.  “Yeah, it’s probably a good idea.”

She watched him bemusedly. 
Had he not heard a single word she’d said about that darned window last night?
 
Had he not heard her running commentary about the
absence of curtains
?  Unfortunately, she didn’t presently have any curtains in stock.

“I don’t happen to have any window coverings in the store right now,” she told him, frowning, but perked up.  “You know what?  I have something at home you’re welcome to have.”

“You do?  Hey, that would be great.”

“Sure.  I’ll leave a couple of curtain panels on your front porch tonight.  They may be a bit long but they’ll work until you find something better.”

“I appreciate it.  I’ll be home later,” he told her.  “You know, you
could
always knock on the front door.  It’s the neighborly thing to do,” he said, smiling a ghost of a smile.

“It is, huh?” she said with a laugh.  “Well, okay then.”

“Yeah, in fact,” he said, still smiling, “I met another one of our neighbors today.”

“Who?” she asked with interest.

“Oh, uh, a lady named Mrs.—”  He frowned, raking a hand through his dark hair.  “I am so bad with names,” he mused, but then grinned triumphantly.  “Her name is Jamison!”

Marcia’s jaw dropped open.  So Ethan had met the nosiest neighbor in the neighborhood.  Had the woman come to his door, all a fluster, accusing him of being an exhibitionist?  Had she threatened to call the police on him?  Had she announced she was starting a petition to have him thrown out of the neighborhood?  The greater metropolitan area?  The county?

“Oh, really?” she said with a wince.  “Mrs. Jamison stopped by?  What did, uh, she have to say?”  She braced for his answer.

“She welcomed me to the neighborhood,” he related.  “Gave me a cheesecake she said she baked special for me.  I’ve already had a slice.  It’s great.  I’ll cut you a piece if you come by my house tonight.”

“She … baked … you … a cheesecake?” Marcia said, incredulous.

He nodded.  “Yeah.  I guess it was a sort of ‘welcome to the neighborhood’ cake.  Nice of her,” he added.

“Yes,” she mused, shaking her head.

“You seem confused,” he observed, watching her with a similarly bemused expression on his face.  “Are you really that surprised at Mrs. Jamison’s neighborly gesture?”

“Well, yeah, if you must know, I’m really surprised.  I guess she
was
welcoming you to the neighborhood.”  She would have to puzzle out exactly why later.

“Yep, she was probably just welcoming me, but then, maybe…”  He let his words trail off.