Page 6 of Enticed by the Mountain Man
As I walk to my car, I run into Maisie at the door to the flower shop. I know she recently returned to town and married Ford. She stands with a clipboard and a pen tucked behind her ear. Her hair is down, and she wears a navy coat and fingerless gloves. She lights up.
“Maeve Prescott,” she says. “I heard you were in town. I thought Connor was still out of the country?”
“He is,” I don’t want to explain why I’m here, so I keep talking. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” She glances at my bags. “Need help?”
“My car is right there.” I lift the handles. “Thanks, though.”
She shifts the clipboard to one arm. “I know you’re staying with Graham. Do you have what you need? Blankets? Space heater? He is stubborn about keeping the thermostat low.”
I laugh, then sober. “I’m okay.”
She studies me. Not nosy. Not prying. “If you need anything, come by the shop. I mean it.”
“I will.” I pause. “Thank you.”
She nods, then steps back inside the flower shop, and I head to the car. The wind pushes sharply against my coat. I load the bags and drive back up the ridge.
When I turn into the drive, Graham stands outside the workshop. He walks over and takes half the bags without asking. We bring everything into the kitchen. He sets the bags on the counter.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“You’re not carrying all that in alone.”
I busy myself unpacking because his attention feels heavy. He watches me sort things into cupboards for a few seconds, then reaches for a bag and starts putting things away too. He placesthe pasta with the pasta sauce and lines up the cans by type in clean rows. Orderly. Precise.
“You went to Dottie’s,” he says.
“Yes.”
“She fed you, didn’t she?”
“Of course.”
His mouth tips. “Good.”
We work in silence. When we finish, he wipes his hands on a dish towel.
He nods and starts toward the door. “I’ll be at the shop.”
I follow him to the door without thinking. “Can I help later? With anything small?”
He pauses, hand on the knob. “You don’t need to.”
“I know.” I lift a shoulder. “I want to help, be useful.”
He studies me. “I’ll think about it.” He steps outside.
I sweep the kitchen, wipe the counter, and start some soup for dinner. The act of chopping and stirring settles me. By noon, the cabin smells delicious.
The hours drift. I do laundry in the small utility room. I fold towels and set them on the shelf. I read ten pages of a book and realize I haven’t absorbed a single line. The quiet starts to skitter across my skin. I put on music at low volume. A simple guitar line fills the space.
By late afternoon, the light begins to disappear. The trees outside the windows turn dark and flat against the sky. I pull on a thick pair of socks and stand in front of the heater vent until my toes stop aching from the cold.
My phone buzzes.
Connor: How’s your day been?
