Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 110(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
“That’s very nice. Thank you,” I say.
“Not a problem. We can go now if you want to. Then maybe we can get some lunch.”
“Oh. Marta, were we finished here?” I
“Go, Tess. The sooner it’s done, the sooner the art department can get to work. I’ll get the keys.” Marta walks away, and Torin looks down at me.
“It’s my lucky day I guess. I get to spend more quality time with the teacher.”
“I’m sure lugging around sheets of plywood and 2x4s was exactly what you wanted to do today.” I laugh.
“I told you, anything you need and I meant it.”
He takes me out to the garage where the old blue pickup truck is stored.
“Pops sure did take good care of this thing. It looks as good now as it did when I graduated high school.”
“It’s that old?” I ask and instantly regret it.
“You make it sound like they chiseled my diploma out of stone. I’m only thirty-eight. You’re already teaching, so you’re what? Twenty-four or twenty-five?”
“Twenty-four,” I answer as he cranks up the engine, which sputters at first, then quiets down and gently purrs.
“You told me that you came here for work, but you didn’t tell me where you’re from.”
“Oh, I grew up in the city. My parents are still there.”
“So, you and I have just been crossing paths, eh? I’m glad we ended up here at the same time.”
“Me too,” I confess and blush a little.
“You know, it’s alright for you to like me,” he tells me, catching me off guard.
“What do you mean?”
“You blush every time you say something nice to me. You don’t have to be embarrassed. I like you too. I like you very, very much.”
“I told you, I’m awkward. I can’t help it.”
“I don’t think you’re awkward. You’re too graceful and polished for that. I just think that maybe you’re lacking experience in certain things. Am I right?”
“You mean things like being attacked and then rescued by a hulk of a man who happens to be my only friend’s son? Yeah, I have limited experience with that.”
“I hope I’m not prying too much, but I was talking about experience with men. Are you married or seeing someone?”
“No, I’m very single. I don’t even have a cat.”
“And you live alone?”
“I do. I bought a little cottage on Eighth Street.”
“See, now I’m a little worried. Do you have a security system or anything?”
“No. Do you think I should?”
“No question. We can take care of that today too.”
We arrive at the lumber yard where my order has been waiting for pick-up. Torin tosses the boards into the truck like he’s tossing around sheets of paper. Once the truck is loaded, he tells me to wait a moment and follows a salesman inside. I sit in the truck looking out at Main Street.
There are a few people milling around as usual, but one man catches my attention. He looks out of place in this Norman Rockwell-quality scene. He’s wearing a suit with dark sunglasses and leaning against the brick wall in front of the pharmacy. Before Torin got off the train, there were only two men in town who regularly wore suits. One is the only lawyer in town and the other is the Mayor.
I can’t see his eyes but I think he knows I’m staring at him because he quickly walks off toward Church Street. Torin returns to the truck seconds later, carrying a large shopping bag. He tosses the bag in the back and hops inside.
“You should have been here a few seconds ago. You might know the man who was standing in front of Kroner’s Pharmacy.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because you dress alike,” I answer and a concerned look comes over his face.
“Which way did he go? Did you see him get into a car?”
“No, he walked that way.” I raise my finger to point. “Toward Church Street.”
Torin peels out of the lumber yard and turns left toward Church Street.
“I was just making a joke. I don’t expect you to know everyone who wears suits.”
He tries to play it off, but I can tell something isn’t right.
“Isn’t Eighth Street this way? We’re going to your place, right?” he asks.
“No, we have to drop the lumber at school. That’s the other way.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Well, I’ll turn around when I get to an intersection.”
“You’ve already passed three.”
He looks at me and says, “You were still talking,” then takes the next right.
I ponder my next move carefully. I know that something’s going on, but I don’t know if I should press the issue. He’s made it obvious he doesn’t want to tell me. After what happened yesterday though, I don’t want to be caught off guard again. “Should I be concerned about that man?”
He puts his hand on my thigh. “You shouldn’t be concerned about anything.”
I can’t explain it, but I believe him. I think that if we were driving through quicksand, I’d still believe him.