Page 7 of Finding Silence
“Nothing is off with the woman, Dad. Dubois is basically French for wood or from wood, and I’m guessing she’s using Dubois as an alias, a pen name.”
“Pen name?”
“Yeah, she told Rowan she’s a songwriter.” She pauses for a moment before adding, “I hope you were nicer talking to her than you are talking about her…”
I’m not sure how to respond in a way that won’t get me in more trouble, so I opt to say nothing. Unfortunately, that is enough of an answer for my daughter.
“Oh no, Dad,” she says on a sigh. “Way to make a good first impression. When I head over to your place for dinner tomorrow night, I’ll stop by and properly welcome her to town. Hopefully, I can undo some of the damage you’ve done.”
Great.
Can this day get any worse?
Chapter 3
Phil
* * *
I don’t think I’ve ever hung my laundry outside to dry.
My mom did when I was growing up, and I remember it used to smell so good. Better than any artificial additions to your load in the dryer.
Even when I was on the road, I’d find a laundromat or a campground with laundry facilities. But when your newly ordered washer and dryer won’t be here for another four days and you run out of clean underwear, you go old-style. Washing by hand in the tub and hanging it to dry.
I spanned a line from the railing of the deck to a tree on the side of the yard. It’s just high enough to keep my clothes off the ground and I was able to find some old-fashioned clothespins at the grocery store in town.
I’m feeling all kinds of country now, hanging my towels and my pretty lace undies to dry in the soft breeze coming off the creek.
You really don’t see anyone here. I was sitting on the deck earlier to have my coffee, and on the other side of the creek a deer stepped out of the brush for a drink. It was magical. There’s no traffic noise, no sirens, no fumes; just fresh mountain air, sounds of nature, and blissful solitude.
Of course, I did meet my neighbor earlier in the week, and although not hard to look at, he isn’t exactly the friendliest. Then the former owner stopped by the day after, and she was lovely. It turns out she’s my neighbor’s daughter, and is the current sheriff. Apparently, her father retired from the job last year. Small-town living, I tell you.
She was sweet though—Savvy, she said her name was—I’m guessing early thirties. Very pretty, which I would think isn’t exactly a blessing when you’re the sheriff and look to be taken seriously. It’s still very much a man’s world out there, especially when you get away from the bigger cities. However, her father clearly raised her to be the kind of woman she is, which has to be his one redeeming factor.
She brought a nice houseplant and a bottle of wine as a welcome to town, and gave me her number in case I needed anything.
I’m just hanging the last of my boy shorts when I hear the sound of a heavy engine. Dropping the rest of my clothespins in the basket, I rush around the side of the house to see the massive moving truck pull up on the road in front.
My stuff is here. I’m almost as excited as I was when I first bought everything. I’m especially excited to be sleeping in my own bed tonight.
I knew they were coming today, so when I came back from getting groceries, I pulled my school bus off to the side to give the truck room to back in. The two garage doors are on the side of the house and I’m hoping to use the garage as a staging area.
A burly guy hops down from the passenger side of the truck. I’m so focused on him walking toward me, I almost miss the rail-thin woman in a suit behind him until I hear her yell my name.
“Philly!”
What the hell?
“Grace?”
The smile my business manager wears is almost as big as her head.
“What on earth are you doing here?” I ask, as I watch her bump the mover out of the way so she can give me a hug.
“Are you kidding me?” she returns, holding me at arm’s length. “You think I’m gonna trust these yahoos with all your worldly possessions?”
I cast an apologetic glance over her shoulder at the man patiently waiting behind her. He shrugs and doesn’t seem in the least disturbed by the name-calling.
