All I Ever Wanted(74)

“So who’s gonna feed me while you’re gone?” Noah asked.

“No one. I expect to come home tomorrow and find your withered little skeleton, sitting all alone at the table, still waiting for dinner. If only you could walk or talk or use the phone or make your own damn dinner…wait a minute! You can!”

Noah growled, but beneath his white beard, a smile lurked. “You’re a smart-ass, anyone ever tell you that?”

“I get ‘saint’ a lot, especially when people find out I’m living with you,” I said. “But no, not smart-ass.”

“Maybe you’re not listenin’,” he grunted. “Now hold that there, sweetheart. Good. This is gonna take a sec.”

I glanced at the clock on the wall…12:30 p.m. I had time.

Noah tapped, swore, hopped (he was going one-legged today), swore. It had been a long while since I’d helped my grandfather in the shop, and it was lovely, the smell of wood smoke and cedar, my grandfather nodding in approval, whistling tunelessly. Time seemed to stop out here, since so little had changed over the years. Ever since we were small, Noah had put us to work out here. He was a good teacher, explaining how wood fit together, why he did things a certain way. I’d always felt so safe when I helped him. Still did.

I checked the time again. 12:47 p.m.

“Go get me a C-clamp, darlin’,” he said, in a rare and fine mood today. I went to his workbench and scavenged around ’til I found it, then returned.

“Okay, hold this again,” Noah instructed. We were on the other side of the kayak now, and after a few minutes, my hands tingled from staying in the same position. Noah then needed another bit of wood sanded, and I obliged. After a while, I glanced at the clock again. 12:51 p.m. But that couldn’t be right.

“Noah? Is that clock broken?” I asked, once more holding a piece of wood in place.

“Oh, yeah. Been broke for a while,” he said.

“What time is it? I have to pack! I haven’t even showered!”

He pulled out his pocket watch. “Five of two.”

“Noah! I have to go! Ian’s coming in five minutes! Can’t you call Freddie and have him come over?”

“You cahn’t just stop, Callie! I’m almost done.”

“I have to—”

“Shush, child! You let go now, I have to start over, and you don’t want that, do you?”

“I don’t want to be late, either…” My voice broke off as Bowie exploded into barking. Sure enough, I heard a knock.

“We’re in the shop!” I yelled.

“Christly, you’re loud,” Noah muttered.

The door to the shop opened. Sure enough, it was Ian, wearing khakis and an oxford. At the sight of my flannel pajamas, his face tightened.

“Ian, I’ll just be two minutes,” I said. “Noah,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “We’re going to a wedding.”

“Fine! One more nail…there. You can go, Princess, for God’s sake.” He looked over at Ian. “Afternoon.”

“Hello, Mr. Grey. Nice to see you. Callie, we need to leave.” His jaw was clenched.

“Yup! I know! Two minutes! Come on, follow me. You can carry my, um…my bag.” Which I hadn’t packed, thanks to my grandfather’s broken clock. And let’s be honest. I wasn’t exactly the “Let me just grab my toothbrush” type. I flew up the stairs, Bowie leaping excitedly next to me, Ian following without so much joie de vivre. “Come on in,” I said, flying into my room. “Or no, just stay…well. I’m sorry. Noah needed…forget it. Two minutes!” Leaving him scowling on the catwalk, I flew into my room, then into the bathroom.

Okay, I needed a shower, that was clear. I threw the faucets on and, while I waited for the water to heat, yanked open the drawer and took out my overnight makeup bag. Foundation, concealer, powder, blush, eye shadow (three shades of course, this was black tie), eyeliner, mascara, not this stuff, the good stuff, where was my eyebrow brush, ah, here it was, tweezers, lip gloss…no, lipstick…no, both…okay, and which shade…

“Callie! We need to leave.”

“Two minutes!” I lied. Razor. Shampoo. Conditioner, voluminizing mousse, styling cream, finishing spray, gloss.

I tore off my jammies, jumped under the spray and soaped up, washed my hair, slapped some conditioner on it. “We’re going to the hotel to change, right?” I called.

“I can’t hear you.”

I winced, knowing he was pissed off. “We’re stopping at the hotel before the ceremony, right?” I bellowed.

“Yes.”

I jumped. His voice was much closer. “Are you in my bedroom?”

“Yes.”

The latch on my bathroom door was broken…a minor inconvenience, unless there was a man in one’s bedroom. All he’d need to see me buck na**d would be a little breeze… Wait a sec. Ian. My bedroom. Of course, I hadn’t made my bed today, and about eight dresses, several bras and panties and…blerk! My Dr. Rey’s Shapewear, in plain sight. Shit! Shit on a shingle, shit on rye.

I slapped off the slower, toweled off and jumped into my robe. Scooped every makeup and hair care product I had into the bag, grabbed a few clean towels and opened the door. “Hi! Sorry, I’m just running a teensy bit late,” I said, throwing the towels over my unmentionables on the bed.