The Pepper in the Gumbo (Men of Cane River #1)(60)
“I’ll just sit over here, then.” He turned toward one of the chairs near the front.
“Oh, and thank you for calling the alarm company. They came this morning.”
“And how did it go? Did you feel comfortable with the package you chose? They’re usually pretty easy to operate. You won’t lock yourself out.” He tried to look reassuring.
She cocked her head. “Yes, I think it will work out. And do I look like the type to lock myself out of my house?”
“Well, no, but you―” He started to laugh, and then caught himself. She’d written those words herself not twelve hours ago, but that was to BWK. “I’m glad it will work out. Your inventory needs to be protected. I’m just going to sit over here and wait for Bix.”
He made his way to the overstuffed chair and settled in, shaking his head at one more stupid mistake. The best course of action was to just keep his thoughts to himself until Bix got here. The chair was near the window and the sunlight had warmed the red corduroy fabric. He put the box on his lap and stretched out. If only the apartment upstairs had this chair. It was perfect for gaming. He could feel himself sinking into it, body relaxing, anxiety easing away.
Alice stood for a moment, watching him, then went back to her desk. There was a short display between them and as soon as she sat down, she was hidden from view. Paul felt his phone buzz in his pocket but he didn’t feel like checking it. He leaned his head back and took in the long rows of shelves, the smell of old books and good coffee, the bright sun shining through and hitting the tiled floor.
He could hear her moving papers around on her desk. Even though they were thirty feet apart, he felt like they were sitting next to each other. And it felt good. He thought of how she said she’d loved a certain corner of the store and he wondered which one. The idea of a teenage Alice reading in a bright spot of sunlight for hours after school made him smile.
A long-haired cat wandered out from another room and he squinted at it. Was that Mrs. Gaskell? He couldn’t keep them all straight. It gave him a short glance and continued toward the desk. The store was so quiet, Paul could hear Alice whisper a few words to the cat. There wasn’t any of the usual beeps, buzzing, and background noise. Somewhere far away a clock ticked. He looked up at the pendant lights, absent of the usual annoying buzz of fluorescent lighting. The cars passed outside in a muted, almost soothing way, like waves gently hitting the shore.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Getting only a few hours of sleep didn’t bother him too much in college, but he wasn’t nineteen any more. He was going to need some coffee before he toured the construction site that afternoon. There was a coffee pot somewhere near, he could smell it. It was a dark Louisiana roast, probably Beau Monde. He should just get up and get himself a cup, just as soon as he relaxed a few more minutes in this amazingly comfortable chair.
Chapter Eighteen
Adding sound to movies would be like putting lipstick on
the Venus De Milo. ― Mary Pickford
Alice tried to read the papers in front of her but all she could think about was the man sitting just across the store. Paul must have some sort of meeting because he was wearing navy slacks, a blue button-up shirt, and nice leather shoes with thick soles. He was freshly shaved and looked well-rested. Nothing like what Alice felt, and what was confirmed when she looked into the mirror across from her desk. She looked old and haggard, with dark circles under her eyes.
She took a sip of coffee and grimaced. Cold. But she didn’t want to get up and rewarm it. Plus, she should have offered Paul some as soon as he came in the store. After they’d invited her over for lunch, she couldn’t even seem to remember to offer him a beverage. She had been so sure he was there because of the papers she’d filed, but he didn’t seem to know yet.
What would he say when he found out? She tried to take a deep breath and almost choked. After a few loud coughs, she managed to get control. She sat lower in her chair. This was torture. She felt as if every movement was magnified, echoing through the small space. What if she sneezed? Or worse? She could feel her face get hot just thinking about it.
Mrs. Gaskell crossed to her desk and wrapped herself around Alice’s feet. “Did you come to keep me company?” she whispered, lifting the kitty to her lap. Van Winkle wasn’t much of a cuddler and Alice appreciated visits from the more affectionate kitties.
Van Winkle didn’t even bat an ear when Mrs. Gaskell stepped off Alice’s lap and onto the desk, where she nosed around the papers. It was fine. Alice wasn’t getting any work done anyway. All she could do was sit here and pray Bix arrived within the next few minutes. As it was, it felt like two warring countries in a ceasefire.
Alice closed her eyes. She had no idea why she thought it was a good idea to flirt, even a little bit, with Paul. She wasn’t the type of girl who could pull off that sort of sassy comment. And he’d turned it right back on her, leaving her red-faced and humiliated. I think I can tell the difference. Not always, but every now and then it’s pretty clear. Well, not humiliated. More like… shyly reliving everything that was wonderful about that moment and hoping there would be another round somewhere in her near future.
Mrs. Gaskell jumped from the desk to the floor with a light thump. Alice wondered what Paul was doing. She hadn’t seen him pick out a book. Maybe he was reading on that machine or checking his phone. She desperately wanted to peer over the little bookshelf and check. He seemed so quiet. She sat back in her chair, considering. It was rare to find a person who could sit in silence. Most people needed their technology. They couldn’t face themselves, alone, and see what might surface. It was a lost art to be at peace in the middle of the hustle and bustle of the day. She had to admire him for that.