Page 48 of Mountain Grump
Bright green eyes blink back at me while they lift bleached eyebrows that match their shaggy bleached hair.
Standing here amid all the color, they stand apart almost as much as I do. The white hair. A boxy, oversized gray linen shirt and matching loose pants. Unassuming.
I dip my chin in greeting, then answer their question. “Purple.”
They grin. “We have that. Any other defining features, or shall I show you the options?”
I shove my hand into my pants pocket and pull out the piece of ribbon I just can’t bring myself to throw away.
The shop worker hums, then holds out their palm. “May I?”
I drop it into their hand.
Holding it taut, they lift it up to the light. “We don’t have this exact brand, but I have something very similar.”
I lift a brow, impressed. I hadn’t expected anyone to know the brand of a ribbon just by look, but everyone has a specialty. “Similar is great.”
They nod and hand the piece of Tilda’s ribbon back to me.
I shove it into my pocket, then press my arms against my sides again as I follow them toward a display along the side wall.
The shop employee hums along with the music as they stop in front of a shelf filled with nothing but purple ribbon.
They tip their head side to side, then reach up and pull down a spool.
It’s a little lighter than the one in my pocket. But that means it’s a little closer to the shade of Tilda’s hair.
They hold it out to me, and taking it, I rub the pad of my thumb along the surface. It looks like cotton, but it feels like silk. And there’s a white—almost silver—thread woven along each edge.
If Matilda Wright were a ribbon…
“It’s perfect.”
The employee grins up at me. “Anything else?”
Chapter 27
Tilda
I slamthe dryer door shut and press the start button.
It’s been a while since I’ve been in a public laundromat, not an apartment one, but this place is surprisingly nice.
For some ignorant reason, I was thinking small mountain town meant out of date, but I was wrong. The building is clean, brightly lit, and the machines all have card readers. Which is so much better than having to turn a twenty-dollar bill into quarters.
Today’s been productive.
I unpacked a few more boxes, and now I’ve washed all my dirty clothes, the used towels, and the bedding I brought with me, since I hadn’t washed it before packing.
I also used the laundromat’s Wi-Fi to download three seasons of my favorite baking show onto my tablet and five That’s What I Call Music albums to my phone.
I at least get one bar of service on my cell at the house, so I can call 911 if I need to. But that’s about it.
Turning toward the big wall of windows along the front of the laundromat, I look through the glass at the twenty-four-hour gym across the street.
While my laundry was in the wash phase, I pulled up the website for the gym and found that the front door is run by an app on your phone. I also found an option for a free three-day trial.
It uses my phone number, so I’ll only be able to do this freebie thing once. But I have fifty-eight minutes left on my dryers, and I’m ready for a walk. The gym is just a handy surprise.
