Page 37 of The Fixer

The store had no shortage of its own dubious furnishings, of course, but she made the happy discovery that her mother and sister had spared no expense when it came to the new king-sized bed—a Sleep Number that was ridiculously comfortable. After a short debate, Joy had stripped it and washed the coverings. While the washing machine she vowed she’d never use ran, she opened up windows and let the crisp night air chase away the musty smells.

“Once I aired it out and put on fresh linens, it wasn’t so bad.” Before she’d gone to bed, though, she had purged the enclosed laundry porch and kitchen pantry, leaving her exhausted but featherlight, so that when she’d finally dropped onto the plush mattress at 3:00 a.m., she’d drifted off without so much as a toss or a turn. Which was a good thing because the morning had brought with it those awful childhood memories in vivid color. Had they invaded her thoughts when she’d been settling into sleep, she would have stayed up all night instead of half of it.

When she’d awoken, it had taken her a moment to shake off the fog of sleep and recognize where she was. Shock at what her mother had done, raw and white-hot despite the years, had torn through her, leaving her emotionally bloodied all over again. Her mother had chosenthislifeover her own daughter.

Estelle’s voice snapped her back to the present. “Boss, did you hear what I said?”

“Sorry, I wandered for a moment.”

“Gee, what a surprise.” Sarcasm laced Estelle’s voice. “I said, if you want any help getting the place cleaned out, I’m serious. I’ll come out there and pitch in.”

Unexpected and unwelcome tears stung the corners of Joy’s eyes. What the hell? Shenevercried. “I’m, uh, thankful for the offer, but I need you back there to herd the cats for me so I can focus on this … this … mission.”

“Okay, but promise you’ll holler if you change your mind?”

“I will. I holler very well.”

“Yes indeed, you do,” Estelle laughed.

They hung up, leaving Joy to ponder why she hadn’t been dealt a mother with Estelle’s nurturing instincts. Instead, she’d drawn the short straw and gotten a self-centered, mentally and emotionally absent parent who was so far into woo-woo that when shehadbeen present, she’d acted more like a mothership ripping Joy’s roots of reality from the ground in order to beam her up.

“All right, enough of the ‘poor me’ crap, or you’ll never get anything done,” she admonished herself.

She stepped into the shop, paused, and zeroed in on one corner ripe for decluttering. The overwhelm pushed a sigh through her chest. What had Estelle said about the general store selling boxes?

A knock came at the back door.

Resting her hand on the doorknob, she called out, “Yes?”

“It’s Charlie Hunnicutt,” came a deep, muffled voice.

She opened the door to his brilliant smile. Did the man ever sleep? Or get grumpy from lack of sleep? Or look anything but fresh out of some beach body video? And it wasn’t a smarmy smile, either. It was genuine and warmed parts of her body she’d neglected of late and conveniently forgotten about. No wonder women fell over themselves to get a piece of him. Not that she was one of them. No, sir.

“Good morning. What brings you here?”

In one hand, he held up an insulated cup of what she hoped was coffee; a crisp white paper bag with twine handles dangled from his pinkie. In his other hand, he clutched a folder. “Breakfast and bids.”

“Are you trying to bribe me?”

“Whatever it takes. I’ll even help with the mess outside.”

“Mess?” Joy craned her head around the doorframe, catching a whiff of his woodsy, masculine scent. But when her eyes fell on the backyard, the pleasantness tickling her senses dried up like jerked meat in a dehydrator.

“What happened?” she cried. At the end of the big purge in the middle of the night, she had carefully placed bags filled with the pantry’s discarded foodstuffs just outside the back door. Now every single bag was ripped apart and their contents strewn across the yard.

“Critters. Could have been moose, dogs, coyotes, maybe a bear.” Charlie slid her a sidelong look. “Why didn’t you use the garbage shed?”

“Garbage shed?”

In answer, he jerked his chin toward a metal double-doored structure snugged up against the back of the building.

“I didn’t know there was one. I didn’t know I needed one! And it was two o’clock in the morning when I finished.” God, she felt stupid … and defeated. All the good feels from her organizational triumph scattered like the litter across the yard. “I’m not wise in the ways of wildlife, you know.”

Amusement danced in his eyes. “Not exactly a news flash.”

She proceeded to lead him inside when he stopped her. “Hang tight.” He passed her the coffee, the bag, and the folder and loped to his truck, which was parked once more on the back lot bordering the yard. There he pulled out work gloves and a box of heavy-duty black bags.

When he returned, he ripped off a length of bags. “Go on inside. I’ll take care of this.”

---