Page 24 of The Fixer

“I was, but first I’d like to point out that it’sSunday, and that I’m the fifth assistant you’ve had in six months. And after going through the mess my predecessors left behind, I’m sure I’m the best of the bunch, so I wouldn’t be trying to get on my bad side. No, wait. You’realreadyon my bad side, so if I were you, I’d be doing my damnedest to switch sides.”

Ouch! Okay, maybe I deserved that.

“Now, are we done being snippy?” Estelle continued in a professorly voice.

“Yes,” Joy groused like a petulant elementary schooler.

“Good. I called to let you know that I got the utilities turned on and also to tell you that the general store in town sells moving boxes and packing materials, in case you want to set anything aside from your mother’s store.”

Oh. All on a Sunday?“That was nice of you to check.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘Thank you, Estelle.’ It’s a good thing I’ve got a thick hide that usually lets shit roll off my back.”

“Yes, it is.” Tail metaphorically tucked between her legs, Joy made a note to give Estelle a hefty raise when she returned to Chicago.

They talked a few minutes longer, mostly about Joy’s plans for the store, and when they hung up, Joy’s shoulders bent under the weight of the looming labor. Oddly, the medicine cabinet crisis had whisked that worry away—probably because it was a different, albeit temporary, disaster.

That chaos caused something new to bubble in her brain: the reveal of the multi-dimensional man behind the contractor persona. Charlie Hunnicutt had intriguing layers; he wasn’t just a pretty face women drooled over. Not that she was going to do anything with this discovery. Nope, no sir. But now that she’d seen this other side of him, remorse rose up inside her. After she did what she would do tomorrow, she hoped he only disliked her a tiny bit more than he did now. In fact, she prayed he didn’t out-and-out hate her.

It was time to give her battle armor a fresh polish.

Chapter 7

Crystals and Scumbags

Joy bid a reluctantgood-bye to Sunny and Luna, locking the door on her way out just as Charlie had instructed. As she walked toward Crystal Harmony Haven, her newly washed shoe squishing slightly—and still stinking—it occurred to her how nice his gesture had been. He hadn’t needed to open his home to her, yet he had, and he’d trusted her enough to leave her there alone.

“So you could snoop through his stuff and empty the contents of his medicine cabinet,” she huffed aloud into the morning air that was quickly heating up.

Her mind turned over his bare medicine cabinet. One time, when she’d been washing her hands in Sterling’s master bath, his had swung open, revealing a space crammed with every man cosmetic on the market. Even clear nail polish. Such a contrast.

It occurred to her she was ravenous again. Instead of returning to Mountain Coffee, where irate customers might recognize her—and where the proprietors would see just what a piggy she was making of herself—she made a quick stop at the general store to cash in her two water vouchersand grab packing materials and snacks. Prepackaged, processed junk had never been her jam, yet here she was, loaded down with fruit cups, beef jerky, and popcorn. Because her choices were on the healthy side—okay, borderline healthy—she added a bag of Reese’s Pieces for dessert. The mountain airhadto be fueling this hunger. Or maybe she was stress-eating, except she didn’t do thateither, despite her high-anxiety lifestyle.

Back inside her mother’s store, she set her purchases down and took another tour around the place, telling herself to take slow, even breaths within the oppressive walls. She felt herself falling back into a dark place, like being locked in a tiny hall closet, where gut-wrenching memories swirled around her like a band of Death Eaters from a Harry Potter movie. Ever since she’d been given the news of her mother’s death, when she realized what stood before her, they’d been slamming into her, making her reel—and that wasbeforeCharlie had delivered the devastating news that she was stuck with this heap of rotten boards and the memories trapped inside it. If she didn’t hold herself in check, he would become a lucky witness to a wrestling match with her demons.

Dragging her butt back to the kitchen, she blanked out and turned on the faucet. She would beat this death grip her mother had on her. She was a big girl now, safe from the clutches of adults who had made her feel insignificant and unworthy.

The water ran clear, she suddenly realized. Ah, the miracles of modern chemistry … or whatever had caused the welcome change. One celebratory pirouette, and she shut it off.

“Woo! One problem down and only 99,999 to go.”

She snagged a water bottle and popped its top as she crossed the threshold into the store. What the hell was she going to do with all this crap?

As if her sister had heard her silent question, her number flashed on Joy’s phone. Joy pushed out a breath and picked up. “Hi, Mary.”

“Hello, Joy. How goes it?”

“You’ve seen this place. How do you suppose it goes?” Joy replied in a clipped tone.

Mary snorted. “Not only have I seen it, but I’ve lived it.” Mary never missed an opportunity to remind Joy how she had nursed their mother during her final days. Never mind that Marywasa nurse, or that Joy had offered to split the load and help care for their mother—or hire a nurse inColorado to do it—but Mary had informed her that neither she nor Helene wanted Joy around or any “handouts” from her. They hadn’t been close for years, but there was no sugarcoating it: that had hurt.

“The only new thing in there is the bed in the second bedroom,” Mary continued. “It was the one luxury Mom allowed and a must-have if I was going to stay there as long as I did.”

Mary was Helene’s golden child, so it came as no surprise that their mother had granted her wish. Helene had always treated Mary as a real flesh-and-blood daughter, not one to be discarded like she had Joy. Despite the bitter feelings Joy clung to, she was glad Mary had been there. She was a trained nurse, and having Mary by their mother’s side must have brought her much-needed comfort at the end.

Mary’s next question pulled Joy from her morass of thoughts. “How did your meeting with the contractor go?”

“Honestly, I have mixed feelings. He’s pushing to take the improvements to the nth degree, and I’m still not convinced we have to do any renovating at all.”

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