Page 25 of The Grumpy Side of Paradise

“Doing a little better. Don’t want to get my hopes up, but thanks for checking in.” He clears his throat and pokes at his ebelskiver, which is my cue to leave the topic there. Jim doesn’t like getting emotional in public.

I find an empty table and pull out a chair for Evie, then slide into the one across from her. She gives me a weird look, and I realize I didn’t ask her if she wanted to sit. I just led her here like I’m the boss of her or something. “You’re waiting for food, right? You weren’t on your way out?”

She shakes her head. “I mean yes, I’m waiting for…” she waves her hands, her long, graceful fingers cutting through the air around us. Maybe the tension too. “A food I don’t know how to pronounce, but everyone assures me I’m going to love.”

I lift a shoulder. “Love’s a pretty strong word for food that’s mostly flour and butter, but Britta makes the best ebelskiver I’ve ever had. Even better than our Danish grandma used to.”

Evie’s eyes grow wide, and I’m struck again by their color. They aren’t just blue. They’re a spectrum of colors between blue and black.. “You had me at flour and butter. Not sure why everyone else didn’t start with that.”

I huff a laugh before I can stop myself. Then I have to think of something to say, and I’m not sure what we have to talk about other than antlers. And how much can really be said on that topic? I swallow, then force out the question that’s been rolling around in my head since she came into the store. I’ve been waiting two days for her to come back in and hoping to see her when I come home. I’ve even looked for her while working at Grandma Rose’s.

“Why do you need antlers right now? Seems like putting up walls and laying floor would be the best place to start.” The last few days of thinking about her have forced me to admit I want to get to know her better. To do that, I’ve got to figure out how to talk to her.

“Georgia and I ordered drywall and plywood online before I got here. They should be ready for pick-up pretty soon.” She says this like it’s not a big deal Georgia has stabbed me in the back again by ordering from somewhere besides Thomsen’s. “In the meantime, I need a creative project to put my brain in a space to design. I have ideas for the floors and wall colors, but I need something to help me decide which ones will look best. That’s what the antlers are for.”

I run my tongue across my teeth, considering how to respond. “Did Georgia forget my dad has a hardware store—the same one her dad used to own—that could have used her business?”

Evie’s face goes three shades of red. Shades that bring out her eye color, but don’t make me any less mad. “She only mentioned that it would be cheaper to get the materials from a chain store to pick them up ourselves instead of buying local. That way, we can put more money toward products we can get locally, but not anywhere else. We’re on a really tight budget.”

Okay, so I’m less mad. And she’s not wrong. Getting supplies through the mountains that surround the lake isn’t easy. Especially when winter comes, and weather keeps trucks from attempting the treacherous canyons. Small-scale orders, like the one Evie would have needed for Grandma Rose’s, require a pretty steep mark-up to cover the cost of getting them to the store. It’s cheaper for people to drive the hour to actual cities and pick up the supplies themselves at Home Depot or Lowe’s.

I can’t blame my neighbors and friends for taking the less expensive option, even if it means Dad loses money. But people always need smaller hardware and gardening items from the store. He’ll stay in business. He just won’t get rich. He’ll keep struggling to pay off Mom’s medical bills.

Unless big developers come in. Chain stores always follow population growth. And mom and pop stores going out of business always follows chain stores.

Even though Evie is part of that potential population growth, I like that she wants to use local makers and their products when she can. I don’t want to discourage that. In fact, that’s one place I can help her. “Have you thought about using reclaimed wood? I can get that for you.”

“I would love that. Georgia and I thought that very thing. But we know it can be a little more expensive, so that’s one area where we want to direct money by cutting costs where we can.” Evie leans forward, her hands moving with enthusiasm, likes she’s directing a choir. Her eyes follow their lead.

Me?

I’m using all of my willpower to resist joining the chorus.

“I’ve helped a lot of people tear down old barns and fence, so I’ve got a stockpile behind the store.” I can’t meet her eye. The excitement there is too tempting. “Just gotta take it to the mill in Florence.” I don’t want to be part of something new, but making something new again is different from brand new. Better.

“Can I see it first? Pick out the ones I want? After I have a better idea of color scheme and talk it over with Georgia, of course.” Evie’s talking more to herself now than to me. She gazes at the ceiling, making lists out loud. Wheels are turning, and I like the way she looks when she’s in motion, even though she’s sitting mostly still.

“You can check out the woodwork I salvaged from Grandma Rose’s too — door trim and the like. I bet there’s also stuff you could use in the garage there.” The detached structure has been used as a junk collector for as long as I can remember.

“Thank you so much,” she gushes. Her attention returns to me. “But I think antlers first, right? How long will it take to find them?”

“Not long. I can have some for you by next Monday, depending on the size you want. The bigger racks are harder to find sometimes. But the deer hunt’s over, and I haven’t heard anyone bragging about getting more than a three pointer.” I pull a napkin from the dispenser and rub at an imaginary spot. But Evie’s eyes are just as intense when I’m not looking in them.

“Hmm.” The noise she makes sounds like music. “I was hoping I could go with you unless it’s a day-long sort of endeavor. I’m more of a hands-on decision maker. I know what I want when I see it. Touching is even better.”

Did her vocal timbre change when she said “touching”? Or am I the only one who felt the warmth and music in the way she said that word?

Zach appears then, carrying our food, using what has always been his greatest talent: the power of interruption. Or disruption—not the good kind, though he would disagree. In what isn’t the first—or last—time, he inserts himself into a good moment I’m having. And ruins it.

He sets a paper bag—my to-go order, which I’d rather not to-go now — in front of me, a plate in front of Evie, and another in the spot between us.

“When are we going antler hunting? Is that what you’re deciding here?” He slides into the empty spot and unwraps a napkin wrapped fork.

“If you know where to look, it doesn’t take long to find them. Maybe an afternoon.” I say this to Evie, except for the part about knowing where to look. I know this. Zach doesn’t. “The fewer the people, the better. We don’t want to scare the deer away before we see them. If we find where they’re bedding, we’ll find where—”

“They’re shedding,” Zach finishes with me, then ignores the glare I send him. “That’s what my dad used to always say when we’d go looking for antlers.”

“We? Do you mean me?” I turn down my scowl when I see Evie fidget in her seat. No need to bring her into our family drama. “You were always too loud.”

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