Reese was going to say no, but the man’s face turned stubborn. He felt like he was in a dream instead of a nightmare. “Tell you what,” Reese said, his voice suddenly thick with emotion, “if I get this job, I’ll pay you back every cent. Fair enough?”
Charlie smiled a little. “Fair enough, Mr. Lockhart. Now, eat all you want and once you’re filled up, choose your clothes, find a good Stetson, work gloves, and anything else you might need. Bring it to the counter and I’ll write it up for you.” Charlie studied Reese’s sorry-looking boots. “And get a pair of decent work boots to replace these guys.” He gave Reese a grin. “They look like they need to be permanently retired.”
One corner of Reese’s mouth twitched. “Sort of like me,” he admitted, more than grateful to the man. He felt like he was being treated like a king.
“Son, you’re just having a bad streak of luck. We all go there at some point in our lives. You’ll get through it, too.” Charlie released his arm and patted it. “I think your streak is gonna end right shortly. Miss Crawford is an angel come to earth. If you present yourself well, I’m sure she’ll hire you. She’s a good boss to work for. The people she hires, stay, and that says everything.”
Reese watched Charlie walk back to the counter. Hot tears pricked the back of his eyes. Reese swallowed hard several times, forcing them away. In the next fifteen minutes, he ate four more cupcakes and had three more cups of hot coffee, and felt damn near human. He found the jeans, work shirts, thick, heavy socks, a couple of pairs of boxer shorts, and two white T-shirts, and carried them up to the counter.
Charlie scowled. “Where’s your work gloves? You need a good, heavy Carhartt work jacket. Your Stetson? Get a pair of heavy snow gloves, too. It stays winter until mid-June around here. And don’t leave out getting a good, heavy knit sweater you can wear under that winter coat of yours.” He pointed in another direction where a rack of men’s sweaters hung, with a SPRING SALE sign on top of it.
Chastened, Reese nodded, his throat locked up with shame.
“Oh, and serious work boots, Son.” He shook his finger in another direction where the footwear department was located. “Get a darned good pair. Don’t skimp on quality because of price.”
Reese wished he could nominate Charlie to the powers-that-be at the White House who were in charge of citizen honors, and have Charlie lauded as a hero. There should be a place where civilians who helped out vets who were faltering or who had walked away from society, were recognized for their compassion. Charlie deserved a civilian medal of the highest order. Once Reese located the rest of the gear, he brought it up to the counter.
“Grab your new duds and take a long, hot shower, Mr. Lockhart. There’s razors and a pair of scissors in the medicine cabinet, should you want to trim that beard and long hair of yours a bit.”
Okay, Reese got it. Charlie was his guardian angel trying to get him spiffed up for this coming interview with Ms. Crawford. Nodding his thanks, Reese took the clothes and headed diagonally across the store. As he entered the men’s restroom, he was surprised by how large and sparkling clean it was. Indeed, there was a nice big shower, clean, white towels hanging nearby, a bar of Ivory soap and a soft, thick wash cloth.
Locking the door, Reese gladly got out of his old, filthy clothes. He felt guilty for accepting this man’s generosity, but he’d hit the bottom of the barrel a month ago. And it wasn’t pride that stopped him from accepting handouts. There weren’t any handouts offered until just now. People would take one look at him, turn, and hurry away. Or if they saw him coming, they’d cross the street to avoid him. Women, especially, showed fear of him. He was a dirty, unshaven stranger. Reese didn’t blame them, but damn, it hurt to be treated that way. He’d never harm a woman, but they didn’t know that by looking at him.
Naked, he tried to ignore how thin he’d become in the two years since leaving the Corps. He’d once been moderately muscled, fifty pounds heavier, and a lot stronger than he was presently. Entering the shower, Reese knew his weakness was directly attributable to not eating for days at a time. Even now, he felt his body responding powerfully to the cupcakes he’d eaten. His stomach growled for more, but as Reese turned on the heavy, warm spray, it was a helluva lot more than he’d ever expected from anyone.
*
Charlie smiled from behind the counter as Reese approached, holding his old clothes. Reese smelled food. Real food. And then, he spotted two large Styrofoam boxes near Charlie’s elbow, where he sat on that aged stool.
“You clean up real good, Mr. Lockhart,” Charlie said, rising and taking his clothes. “I’m assuming these are DOA?”