I guess she doesn't like talking about her family. Every time I mention them she changes the subject.
"One of the parts was rusted out. It's an easy fix. I'll be able to mow by this afternoon."
"Thank God." She bites into her sandwich.
I smile. "Are you saying you're tired of the weeds?"
"It's like a jungle over there. I was about ready to mow it myself but I was afraid of what I might find in there."
"I'm surprised your parents didn't call and report it to the city. People get fined for having weeds that big in a residential area."
"Do you like the sandwich?" she asks, changing the subject.
"Yeah, it's good." I take another bite and we sit in silence a moment as we eat. "I'm going to have to eat out every meal until I get a new fridge. The old one's dead. I plugged it in and it wouldn't even turn on. And I'm sure the stove doesn't work. I think Gramps only used the microwave. It's the newest appliance in the kitchen."
"He was really thin. I don't think he ate much. My mom would sometimes bring him—" She stops suddenly, then takes a drink of her Coke.
"Bring him what?"
"Um...just whatever we were having for dinner. She invited him over a few times but he turned her down so she'd bring him a plate of whatever we were eating."
"That was nice of her. I'll have to thank her."
Callie wipes her mouth with a napkin then slides off the stool. "I need to get back to work."
"We just sat down."
"I know but I have things to do." She takes her plate and goes behind the counter. She seems nervous, agitated.
"Callie."
"What?" she asks, still holding her plate.
"Would you please come sit down? I won't ask you any more questions if that's what's making you nervous."
"I'm not nervous," she says defensively.
"Would you sit down?" I point to my plate. "I still have half a sandwich left and I don't like eating alone."
She hesitates, then gets an annoyed look on her face and walks back around the counter, setting her plate down. "You're not always going to have someone to eat with." She gazes down at her half-eaten sandwich. "Or is someone coming to live with you in that house?"
"Nope. It's just me."
"Then you're going to have to get used to eating alone." She picks up a potato chip, then drops it back on her plate.
"Why would I eat alone? I've got you right next door."
"What?" Her head whips toward me. "I'm not eating with you."
"Sure you are. In fact, you're having dinner with me tonight. I'm ordering pizza."
"Excuse me?" She huffs out a breath. "I'm not having dinner with you, especially after you just said it like it was a given. You didn't even ask."
"I would've, but I told you I wouldn't ask you any questions. So I had no choice but to make a declarative statement."
"A declarative statement? That's what you call it?"
"I don't know what you're implying." I eat the last of my chips, then rub my hands over my plate, dusting the salt off.
"You were trying to get a date with me but were too much of a coward to ask, so you just said it like it was a given, assuming I'd go along with it." She faces forward, shoving her plate aside and sliding her drink toward her.
I lean over and talk close to her ear. "If I wanted to go on a date with you, I'd have no problem asking." I sit up straight again. "It's just dinner. Not a date. We'll eat out on the deck. It's the only part of the house that isn't piled up with clutter. It's covered in dirt but I'll clean it off when I get back."
Her eyes are still facing forward. "I didn't agree to it."
"Well, you've got five hours to decide. I'll be on the deck at six, with pizza and cold beer." I grab a clean napkin and set my brownie on it. "I think I'll take this to go." I get up from the stool. "Thanks for having lunch with me."
She finally looks at me. "Sure." She smiles a little. "Good luck with the lawn mower. Those weeds better be mowed down when I get back."
"I'll do my best. See ya." I wave at Lou as I leave. "Great lunch. Thanks!"
He nods at me. "Stop by tomorrow."
"Will do," I say, smiling over at Callie. I caught her staring at me but she quickly turned away.
I doubt she'll show up for dinner. She probably already has plans. Maybe she's going out with her friends.
As I'm crossing the street to my truck, I pass a woman talking on her phone. She's so into her conversation, she's not even checking for cars. I shake my head, annoyed at her carelessness. That's how people get killed. Distracted by their damn phones.
I look back at her and see a car turning, coming right at her. I run up to her, grab her around the waist, and yank her back as the guy driving the car lays on his horn.
"Get out of the road, lady!" he yells as he speeds by.
"Oh my God!" she says, dropping her phone. "That car almost hit me."
"You okay?" I ask, checking her over. She's young, probably in her twenties, with long blond hair, wearing a flowery dress and high-heeled sandals. She's pretty and smells of expensive perfume, like the kind Marissa used to wear.
"Thank you," she says, smoothing out her dress. "You saved my life."