Page 13 of The Proximity Factor

I rubbed my lips together, hating to perpetuate the lie that Parker was a woman. But I couldn’t risk killing off Mama. Especially since living with Parker was like not having a roommate at all, besides the toilet seat always being up and it smelling like his cologne in the bathroom. Unfortunately, the warm, spicy scent drove me wild. I don’t know what it is about a good cologne, but it could get my engine revving. Obviously, I wasn’t stepping on the gas. I was pumping the brakes and doing my best to kill any thoughts or attraction I might have toward Parker. It was harder than I thought it would be. Something about him just wouldn’t let me be. It was ridiculous.

“Totally insane. But my roommate is from Ohio, so—”

“Oh,” Miss Judy said like that made total sense. “Northerners just don’t understand the beautiful intricacies of the southern way of life.”

“Exactly.” I bent down to unbox the remaining cans of stain, hoping Miss Judy’s interest would move on from my roommate. At this rate, I wasn’t going to be able to show my face in church for being such a liar, liar pants on fire.

Miss Judy patted my head. “Well, don’t let her get you down. I’m sure you’re doing a marvelous job with the experiment.”

I gave her a weak smile, my heart sinking. It was obvious I wasn’t doing a good job, judging by the questionnaires. Although if I went by those alone, I wouldn’t pass unless Parker and I jumped into bed together. More and more, I was having serious reservations about what this social experiment was really about. I didn’t mention it, though, because I didn’t need Mama marching herself over to the university to raise some Cain. And believe me, she would if she knew the types of questions they were asking me. The only saving grace in all of this was when it was all said and done, I would get to fulfill one of Mama’s dreams and take her to Europe. I’d been keeping it a surprise just in case the money didn’t come through or I became a Dateline victim.

“Thanks, Miss Judy,” I whispered.

“Bye, darlin’.” She waved.

“Bye,” I sang, trying to be chipper.

“Honey, can you come man the counter for me? Mama needs to tinkle,” she announced to the entire store.

No one even batted an eye at Mama’s less than discreet announcement. This was mild compared to what she and her best friend, Miss Allison, were normally up to. When they started going through the change a few years ago, they made shirts that said, Sorry, I can’t. I have menopause. They wore them everywhere. That wasn’t the end of their shenanigans. They started handing out homemade pamphlets about the horrors of menopause, everything from sweating like a hog to vaginal atrophy. They even convinced the local radio station to let them do PSAs about it. It struck all the women in Goldenville with terror. I still have nightmares about it.

“Coming, Mama.” I stood and scooted past the boxes of stain and paint that were waiting to be shelved.

The customer service counter was in a corner of the store near the cashier lanes. Typically, we only need one lane, but in the summer and during the holidays, two were a must. A couple of local high school kids were manning them today.

It did my heart good to see the old place was keeping busy. Everything in the store, from the polished wood floors to the old men in the corner drinking the free sweet tea and coffee, reminded me of Daddy. He wanted this to be a place for gathering in town.

As I neared, Mama came out from behind the counter. To me, she would always be the prettiest woman in the world, even if she believed time was marching across her face like an angry soldier. I think she noticed her laugh lines more than anyone. For a woman of any age, she looked amazing, but especially for a fifty-five-year-old. She still had golden hair, even though she had to dye it that way now. But it was as full of volume as ever. Mama was a big believer in Dolly Parton’s words: “Gotta keep your hair, heels, and standards high.” Mama was still lamenting the fact she couldn’t get Aqua Net at the grocery store anymore.

Mama’s willowy figure sashayed my way. “I’ll be right back.” She nudged me with her hip as she walked by. I loved her.

I stood behind the counter and admired the framed photo of Daddy we’d placed near the computer. He was fishing at his favorite spot, smiling and looking as happy as could be while casting his line, not really caring if he caught anything. He just liked to be out in nature with his favorite girl, my mama. His wavy sandy hair was thinning, and his cheeks were slightly sunken from the weight he’d lost, but he remained a handsome man. More than that, he was a good, honest man who would do anything to help anyone.

“I love you, Daddy,” I whispered, my heart aching for how much I missed him. I had to wonder what he would think of his baby girl doing this social experiment and living with the likes of Parker. No doubt, he wouldn’t be crazy about it, but he would probably get a few laughs out of it. Maybe he was laughing at me now. I hoped so.

“Hey, Lanie Jane,” an unexpected but more than familiar voice said my name uneasily.

My head snapped up to find Greg standing there in his dress pants and button-up shirt, swallowing hard. His dark, modern curtain haircut looked as perfect as ever, along with his strong jawline. His brown eyes tried to penetrate my own, but I wasn’t having it. He shouldn’t be looking at me at all.

“What are you doing here?” It’s not like he was a real handy guy, and it was Thursday afternoon, which meant his office was open. And I thought we’d agreed it was best if we avoided each other. That was more me than him. He went with the whole we-can-still-be-friends approach. Yeah, so not happening.

Greg stepped closer to the counter, undeterred by my icy greeting or the fact that everyone in the store was now watching us. When you break up in a small town, that is the price of admission, being gawked at and gossiped about. Oh, the gossip was going to run rampant. It didn’t matter why Greg was here—the mere fact he was would stir up trouble.

“I’m thinking of updating the flooring in my house,” he replied nervously, which was so unlike him. Normally, he was smooth and charismatic.

“Well, there’s a Home Depot in the next town over that I’m sure would be glad to help you.” I knew Mama wouldn’t care if we missed out on a big order. She hated Greg more than I did. And there was no way I was helping him update his beautiful vintage house on Main Street that I adored and had pictured myself living in with him and raising babies together. I turned my back on him, just like he had done to me. I took several deep breaths to stave off the tears. No longer did I love Greg, but his words still stung me. They made me question who I was, and for that, I hated him the most.

“Lanie.” Greg cleared his throat. “I actually just came in here to talk to you. I miss you.”

Not believing my ears, I whipped around.

Everyone in the store was now in the bathroom fixtures and fittings aisle, watching the show.

It was fixin’ to get ugly in here. “Why in the world would you say something like that to me, Greg Pearson? Aren’t you engaged to be married?” As in the getting-married-next-month kind of engaged.

He blew out a large breath and leaned on the counter. “Yeah,” he said, as if he could hardly believe it. “I think maybe I made a mistake.”

From the back of the crowd, Miss Rae said, “Oh, that boy is in some trouble now.”

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