“Thanks. How ya feeling today?”
“A little headachy but I’m looking forward to your party. I’m gonna need a little hair of the dog.” She laughed.
“I bet,” he said.
Charlotte slid the bouquet of roses across the price scanner and shoved them into a bag without any care for the delicate flowers. Her eyes scanned Calvin and the groceries, and then they finally landed on me. She gave a small insincere smile.
“Didn’t see you there, Grace.” It wasn’t a greeting, just an acknowledgment that I was alive and present.
Charlotte reverted her attention to Calvin. “I didn’t embarrass myself last night, did I?” Her voice was flirty.
“No, not at all. I think everyone had a little too much to drink.” He pressed his lips together.
“Has Joe stopped by?” she asked.
Calvin shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t heard from him.”
“Oh, well he was in here earlier. Bought a couple twenty-four packs of beer for the barbecue.” She continued to scan and bag the groceries.
“He’s still coming?” he asked.
Charlotte nodded. “I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much of last night.” She rubbed her head, trying to conjure up the memory that was long gone. “What exactly happened?”
“It’s best we just put that behind us then.”
In the little bit of time I had been in Dubois, I noticed things frequently got swept under the rug. But the problem with sweeping things under a rug is eventually it all spills out. What else was hidden around here?
“Okay,” Charlotte said. She hit a few keys on the register. “That’ll be one hundred ninety-six dollars and twenty cents.”
Calvin stuck his card into the machine without any hesitation. Someone with money problems would hesitate.
“I thought that was you, Grace,” a voice from behind called. I turned back to find Betty, the woman I met at the clothing store earlier this week. She was dressed in a floral print dress with a high neckline and sleeves that went to her elbows.
“Oh, hi. How are you?” I wasn’t sure why she was being so friendly toward me. At her boutique she seemed suspicious of my very presence.
“Just fine. How are those clothes working out for ya, hon?”
“They’re holding up. Calvin’s got me riding horses and fishing in them.”
Calvin slid his card back into his wallet and pocketed it. He gave Betty a hug and whispered, “Missed you.”
“Happy birthday, sugar. I know today’s a complicated one but you enjoy it best you can,” she whispered back.
A complicated one? Why? Was it because of his parents?
“Thanks, Betty. Grace here has been keeping me happy.” He smiled and took a step back to put his arm around me. “Not sure what I’d do without her.”
Betty collected some items from her basket and placed them on the belt. “Look at you two getting along so well. You’re not going to want to leave, Grace.” She looked at me with a tight smile.
Charlotte let out a cough. “But you are leaving . . . right? In four days?”
I ignored her.
“Anyway,” Betty said, steering the conversation. “I was just here to pick up a few items for my famous honey cake, but I don’t wanna tie you two up. I’ll see ya later this afternoon.”
“I can’t wait. Your honey cake is heaven,” Calvin gushed.
“Oh, Calv. You sure know how to make an old lonely woman feel good about herself.” Betty blushed.
“You’re not old and you’ve got me,” he said, giving her a half hug. “I’ll see ya later.”
“Not if I see you first,” she said back with a wave and a small laugh.
The dynamic between Betty and Calvin was like mother and son, but Betty wasn’t his mother. His parents were dead. But Calvin never told me how they died. What happened to them, and were they the reason Calvin’s birthday was, as Betty put it, complicated?
26.
Calvin
I entered the kitchen with a towel wrapped around my waist—fresh from a hot shower. Grace stood at the stove with a wooden spoon in her hand. The smell of bacon and garlic entered my nose, and I breathed deeper, trying to get more of the best scents a kitchen could offer. I knew she’d ruin it soon with those brussels sprouts.
“Whatcha doing?” I asked.
She looked over her shoulder, and I think I almost saw her mouth drop open. Her eyes scanned my dripping wet body. I had done a poor job of drying off.
“Cooking up those brussels sprouts you love so much,” she said with a flirty smile.
Grace continued to stir her wooden spoon slowly, moving around the sautéed bacon and garlic, but her eyes stayed on me. I liked those eyes on me. That’s where they belonged.
I took a few steps into the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”
“A beer would be great.”
“You got it.” I pulled two cold ones from the fridge and popped the caps off. “Here.”
She took it from me, and we both tipped the beers back and drank—our eyes never breaking contact.
“Need any help?” I offered.
“No, Calvin. It’s your birthday. Let me worry about everything.”
She smiled, and it was inviting.
I took a step closer to her, pretending like I was trying to get a better look at the food she was cooking up, but what I wanted was more of Grace. She backed into me a little and turned her head, looking over her shoulder. When she didn’t jolt away or apologize, I knew this was the moment—our moment. I leaned down a few inches and kissed her. My lips were on hers, and all of a sudden, she was kissing me back. Her body turned toward me. Her hands went to my back, my chest, my stomach. Her mouth opened, and I slid my tongue in, circling around hers. She practically moaned. I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her as close as she could possibly get to me. I could have crushed her to ashes—that’s how bad I wanted her. My hands ran through her hair and down her back, settling on her firm backside. She pushed me hard, and I let her, until I was thrust into the kitchen wall. The Sheetrock cracked behind me but I didn’t care. I’d fix it later, or maybe I’d leave it there to serve as a reminder of this very moment. The moment Grace became mine. One of my hands moved from her backside to her breast, grabbing it, caressing it. She moaned again. Her hand traveled down my chest, my abdomen, through the opening of the towel, and I grunted in pleasure when she gripped me. I moved my mouth to her cheek, then her neck, her ear—sucking and kissing—while her hand stroked and pulled.