Page 17 of An Ex Affair

Mama reached over and patted my hand. I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at her and see disappointment on her face. I had enough of that in my own heart at the moment.

“Worth is in the eyes of the beholder, honey. Your problem is that you always had eyes on you. Even in high school you were the belle of the ball. Cheerleader, prom queen. Always busy,always at the center of the party. You forgot whose eyes really matter.”

I looked at her then, wondering what in the hell she meant and why she couldn’t just dispense her wisdom without me needing to use a cereal box decoder to understand her.

She patted my hand again and stood up. “I’ve got to get to my baking, honey. You can join me if you’d like.”

That was one way in which we were alike. Mama got her thinking done while baking pies. I got mine done while tackling a home improvement project.

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to head into town to meet with Colson about the fundraiser and also swing by the hardware store. Do you mind if I make a mess in here but promise it’ll be pretty by the time I’m done?”

Mama collected her trash from the table and said over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen, “You have free rein to do anything in this house you want.”

That old familiar trickle of excitement blotted out some of the shame and confusion I’d been feeling this morning. Not that they weren’t still there, but at least I had something positive going for me too. I shoved an egg bite in my mouth and took the rest with me as I searched for my work boots.

Nerves tumbled like butterfly wings in my gut as I pulled into the fire station yet again. All that was for nothing though as the place appeared empty, so I headed to the hardware store, figuring I’d start there and circle back to the fire station later. A little bell rang out over the tired-looking glass door of Doyle Hardware. A middle-aged guy with a weathered baseball cap and a decent-sized beer belly came from around a corner to offer a good morning.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked. Then his face lit up and he snapped his thick fingers. “Hey, aren’t you Tully Starling?”

The smile was automatic, the one I gave strangers in public when someone recognized me. I held out my hand and he shook it, nearly breaking my fingers in his enthusiasm.

“Nice to meet you. Are you Doyle?” I pointed to the sign outside and extricated my right hand from the handshake as quickly as I could.

“Carl Doyle, at your service,” he said with a mock bow. “I’m honored you’ve come into my shop. I bought this place right after you left, so we never got to meet. What can I do you for today?”

I enjoyed his laid-back personality, compared to some of the slick salesmen and developers I was used to in southern California. “I need to remove some wallpaper, buy paint, and choose some millwork. Can you help me with that?”

He lifted up his hat and scratched his balding head before plopping it back down. “Sure can. Got the wallpaper remover tools and the paint. We’ll have to place an order for the millwork though. Don’t stock that here.”

I nodded. “Great. I have to remove the wallpaper and patch up the wall first anyway, so there’s time for the trim to get here.”

Carl got me loaded up on the spray bottles that held a chemical that helped the wallpaper glue dissolve, then we meandered over to the paint section where I perused the available colors. Looking at swatches felt like slipping back into my old skin in a way that felt good. No cameras. Just me and the paint swatches. And Carl, of course.

He scratched his belly and pointed a cigarette-stained finger at the grayish-blue swatch I held in my hands. “That’s a new color we just got in.”

I nodded, even though I knew this color had been around for over a year by now. Took a little while for things to make their way to Blueball. It was one of the reasons I left here years ago, wanting to see the big world out there. Now, however,Blueball just seemed quaint. Carl followed me around the store, giving me one-on-one help. No horns blared outside at all hours. No hustle to get to the next thing and cursing at traffic from stopping me. It was all just kind of, dare I say,nice.

Once I got the order placed for the millwork I’d need to add a chair rail to the dining room walls and create the paneled wainscoting on the bottom half, I waved goodbye to my new friend, Carl, after he loaded the back of my car with my supplies.

A woman was getting out of her truck and walking toward the store, her blonde hair full of sawdust and a smoking electric sander in her hand. She saw me and nodded hello. I pointed to the sander.

“That one blew up on me three times before I gave up and went with a different brand.”

The woman stopped walking and turned toward me, a hesitant smile on her pretty face. “Tully Starling? OfFlip or Fail?”

I nodded, reverting to my celebrity smile. “That’s right.”

The woman stuck out her hand and we shook. Her palm was scratchy with sawdust and calluses. “I’m Emmerleigh Slaywright. I’m a contractor here in Blueball.”

Now the smile was genuine. “A female contractor? I love it!”

We just stood there smiling at each other, until Emmerleigh blinked and looked around the parking lot. “This is going to sound strange and I swear I’m asking as a fellow neighbor, not in a way to use you, but would you mind coming to look at one of my projects? I mean, I’d pay you, of course. If I can afford you, that is. But I’m having trouble deciding what to do with this one wall.” She snapped her mouth shut and then laughed. “Sorry. That was a lot. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

My hand shot out, touching her arm. “Actually, I’d love to stop by. As a friend, not a paid thing.”

Emmerleigh’s smile was blinding. “Okay.”

Apparently, outside of Hollywood it was just that easy to make a friend. No favors or ulterior motives or angling to get an in with someone higher up the food chain than you. I slid out my phone. “What’s your number?” She gave it to me and I saved it in my phone. “I’ll text you tonight.”

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