Page 18 of The Wish List
Beth had yet to emerge from the realty office, so Freya entered the hardware store, shocked at how cheery and welcoming it felt. The scent of cinnamon and cloves along with sawdust filled the open space, and there seemed to be just as many aisles of home goods and gift merchandise as tools and construction supplies.
A thin redhead called out a greeting from behind the register then went back to helping another customer.
Freya slowly moved down one aisle, charmed despite herself by the rows of merchandise. Freya didn’t cook, but she’d always wanted to learn, and kitchen gadgets fascinated her with their potential. She reached out a hand to touch a set of stainless-steel mixing bowls that reminded her of the set her mother had when she was younger. Were those bowls still somewhere hiding in the bowels of May’s overcrowded kitchen?
“Everything old is new again,” a voice said next to her. She glanced up to see a handsome man with chestnut-hued hair and matching eyes smiling at her. “My grandma had that exact type of bowl and probably her grandma before that back in Oklahoma. The retro look is popular nowadays.”
“Why change a classic?” Freya asked and the man nodded. His name tag said Garrett, and she noticed the ring on his left hand. No surprise someone had snapped him right up. At first glance, he seemed like a keeper, which made him not her type anyway.
“Can I help you find something?” he asked.
“My sister,” Freya answered as she slowly removed her sunglasses. It felt ridiculous to be wearing them in the store, and she didn’t think this man would recognize her.
“I’m guessing you mean Beth?”
Freya blinked, but the man just grinned. “You two have the same eyes.”
She wanted to shove her sunglasses back on her face but took a drink of coffee instead to keep from having to answer.
A moment later, her sister walked around the corner, followed by Christopher Greer. Freya’s gaze instinctively narrowed. What was it about the man that had that visceral effect on her?
He gave Garrett a long once-over, his grin broadening. “I see my best client is focusing on his favorite side hustle once again.”
Best client? Why would a hardware store clerk be his best client? “Whatever it takes to keep Lily happy. With the store this busy, it’s all hands on deck. You know what they say. Happy wife, happy...” Garrett cringed as Beth raised a brow and Greer snorted. “Sorry, bad analogy.”
To Freya’s surprise, Beth fist bumped Greer like they were old friends. “Some of us are happier on the other side of marriage.”
“Good point.” Garrett nodded. “Although I might kill off your stupid ex-spouse just for good measure.” With a wink at Freya, he moved off in the direction of a woman clearly struggling to reach something from one of the top shelves.
“Great news,” Beth said as she walked toward Freya. “Greer is going to help us get the house fixed up before the holidays. If we can renovate the first floor, it will be easier to stay there. She’s going to push for that either way.”
“I wish I would have known what shape it was in,” Greer offered. He wore faded jeans and a flannel shirt that almost made him look like he belonged in the store. Certainly more than Freya. “I would have forced her to let me make some updates sooner.”
“No one forces May to do anything,” Freya reminded them both.
Beth snorted. “You haven’t seen her with Greer. Putty in the man’s hands.”
Freya bristled as the agent lifted the hands in question, large with long, elegant fingers that seemed more appropriate for holding a martini glass than doing any kind of manual labor. “Why is Garrett from the hardware store your best client?” she demanded.
“That’s not just Garrett from the hardware store,” Beth told her. “It’s Garrett Dawes, the thriller author.”
“He’s the one who introduced me to your mom,” Greer explained, not appearing bothered by her churlish tone. “I’ve only been working with her for a couple of years now. Garrett’s wife, Lily, runs the store. It’s been in her family for generations. Once they moved to Magnolia, I came for a visit and—”
“And you decided to take advantage of our mother,” Freya said with a sniff.
“What’s wrong with you?” Beth demanded.
“I’ve seen plenty of unscrupulous agents milk aging, once-famous actors. I imagine it’s the same thing with Mom andA Woman’s Odyssey. Why would she need a new agent now?”
“Next year is the twentieth anniversary of the book’s original publication.” Greer said the words as if they explained everything.
“You mentioned that. So what?” Freya countered then moved out of the way as a father with two young sons walked past.
“Nice snowman,” Greer told the boy, who was pushing a cart that held an enormous figure made of vines woven on a wire frame.
“This is Frosty,” the boy said proudly. “He’s going in our front yard.”
Greer smiled. “Lucky snowman.”
