Page 46 of The Husband Hour
She smiled. “I’d be happy to have you stay longer. It saves me from having to go back on that website. I do hate dealing with the Internet. Facebook? I just don’t get the appeal. Why would I talk to Nora on a website when I can just hop on over to her place?”
“I hear you,” Matt said, looking around at Henny’s work space. She had a professional-looking sander, a table covered with half a dozen paint containers, stencils, and sponges, and a smaller table holding piles of uniformly sized, smooth wooden planks. “So, do you sell these or what?”
“I do,” Henny said, smiling. “Have you been to Nora’s Café? I sell them there. You can buy ’em right off the wall.”
He nodded. “I liked the one about bacon.”
She laughed. “That was just something I said to myself in the kitchen one day. Ain’t no problem bacon can’t cure. That was before I started making the signs. After my husband passed, I was really feeling down. The only time I felt okay was when I went to church and the pastor would say something positive and I’d try to hold on to it. But a day or two later, I was back in a funk. So I started thinking of my own positive messages for myself. I’d write them on Post-its and leave them around the house. And it helped. So I wanted the messages to be more permanent and decorative. That’s when I started making these.”
“Well, they’re great. I might just have to buy one before I leave.”
“Sounds good to me! But don’t rush to go. Like I said, makes my life easier not having to fill the room again.”
Well, at least one person was happy to have him around.
“Oh, we have a visitor,” Henny said, waving to someone. He turned to see Lauren opening the gate.
A surge of hope broke through his hangover. Had something he said yesterday actually gotten through to her?
“I tried calling but you didn’t answer,” Lauren said to Henny. “Sorry to just show up like this. I was hoping to catch Matt before he left.”
“You two know each other?” Henny said, turning to him.
“Sort of,” he said. “It’s a long story.”
“Did you drive over?” Henny said to Lauren. “He needs a ride to pick up his car.”
Lauren looked at him quizzically, but he waved off the comment, saying, “It’s all good, Henny. I’ll take care of it later. And thanks again.”
Lauren didn’t say a word until they walked to the side of the house, out of Henny’s earshot. Standing at the base of the stairs, he said, “This is a surprise.”
“You said I could look at your interviews and correct any misinformation.”
He tried to appear casual, as if she hadn’t just given him the first shred of hope in the past twenty-four hours.
“I did.”
“Okay, let’s do it,” she said.
Now? He thought of the disarray in his room, the aftermath of manic hours of working followed by a sleepless post-binge-drinking night. Mostly, he thought of the notecards all over the floor spelling out the trajectory of her husband’s doomed life.
“I’m all for it, but I need a few minutes to charge my computer and get things together,” he said.
She looked impatient.
“Five minutes,” Matt said. He’d throw a sheet over the notecards. And do them both a favor by taking a quick shower.
“I hate being late for work,” Lauren said, mostly to herself. “This is crazy.”
Henny looked up from the can of paint she was opening and smiled.
“You know what they say about all work and no play,” she said. “Sometimes you need a day off. And he really is a handsome fella.”
Lauren’s jaw dropped. “Henny, no. That is not what this is.”
“I’m ready when you are,” Matt called from the gate. He had changed clothes, wearing jeans and an NYC T-shirt. His hair was wet. Had he showered?
“Well,” Henny said, looking at him. “From one widow to another, may I just say, that is a mighty shame.”
