Page 63 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
Okay, maybe she did.No.She didn’t.
She backed up another step. Didn’t matter. His life was in Illinois. Getting married. Raising a family. That wasn’t the story she wanted. Was it?
No.She wanted adventure.
“Have you had supper yet?”
The last thing she needed was more time with this man. “Henry, I can’t.”
“Can’t what? Eat?”
“Keep doing this,” she said. “Acting like we’re friends or...more. Don’t you get it? I’m not staying. We can’t be more. I’m leaving.”
“For what? Three months? So what? You can come back.”
“It’s not three months. It’s... longer. Three years maybe. I don’t know.” Edith shrugged, willing him to understand. “I need something more. I need—”
“You know what? I get it. You don’t have to explain.” Henry crouched down, corralling the balls into the bag. “This town isn’t enough for you.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Sorry.I’mnot enough for you. Is that more accurate?” He zipped the bag and flung it over his shoulder.
“Henry, listen to me.”
“I have. I heard you. You need a big story. You need a big life. And it’s not here with me. You’re not the first person to tell me that, so believe me, I get it. I really do.”
Edith reached for his hand. “Would you just stop?”
He tugged his hand free and limped at a clipped pace toward his truck. “Thanks for keeping score tonight. See you around.”
Edith watched him go, wanting to chase after him, wanting to sit in the dirt and weep. Wanting... she didn’t know what. She settled for turning around and walking to Kat’s house. It was for the best. They cared about each other too much to make a casual friendship work. Better to cut it off now. Let the healing process begin. Right?
Sure. Maybe if Edith kept telling herself that, she’d eventually believe it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Two weeks passed, carrying them into August, and Henry had neither seen nor heard from Edith. He didn’t know if running himself ragged was a blessing or a curse. He only knew it hurt too much to think about her. So he would do whatever was necessary to not think about her. Even if it meant repainting Mrs. Newberry’s kitchen every color of the rainbow from here until eternity.
A paper clip tinged off the side of his blue light glasses and landed on the blueprint covering his desk. He lifted the paper clip to eye level, then swung his gaze to Peg.
“I ran out of rubber bands,” she said with a shrug. “And I need you to come look at this.”
Henry slipped his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, weariness blurring his vision.
“Which do you like better?” Peg asked once he leaned over her shoulder and blinked at the images on her computer screen.
“I don’t know. What am I looking at?” He slipped his glasses back on.
“The options for our new logo. Personally, I like this one.” Peg enlarged the cartoon drawing on the right of the screen showing a pelican wearing overalls and holding a paintbrush.
“Logo? Since when do we need a logo? Our name is Hobbes Painting and Construction. If people can’t figure out what we do by our title, then I don’t think a bird is going to help matters.”
“This is how you run a business, Henry.” Peg spun her chair around to face him and leaned back with her arms folded across her chest. “You put your name out there. You get on billboards. You make a website. You come up with a logo,” she said with emphasis on the last word.
“We’ve never needed to do any of that kind of stuff before. Besides, don’t we already have a website?”
“Yeah, one my great-nephew could have designed.” Her gaze flitted to a framed piece of notebook paper covered in scribbles, a prized possession from her three-year-old great-nephew. “Look, Henry, while you had your head in the clouds this summer, things have been happening. We’ve had two big projects swiped out from right under our noses by companies in the Quad Cities.”
