He lets out a soft laugh. “Oh, I know. But maybe you’ll fall in love with the charm around here and decide to stay.”
I make a noise that can only be described as an obnoxious cackle. “Oh, that’ll be the day, Mr. Abernathy. I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
A knock on the door interrupts us. The lawyer says, “That must be the notary.”
We head back downstairs and get settled around the table.
I say, “I’d offer you something to drink, but I have absolutely nothing yet. Do you think one of you can point me toward the nearest grocery store?”
Mr. Abernathy says, “There’s a Five and Dime in town for odd and end things. If you want more options, there’s a Walmart one town over.”
I decide that after we get done doing paperwork, I’ll unpack the car really quick and then go shopping. I’m going to need a few things to make this place livable.
When we are finishing up, Mr. Abernathy says, “I talked to Duke Samson, and he’s expecting your call.”
I can’t help but crack a smile at the handyman’s name. He sounds like a character in a John Wayne movie or something.
Since I’m pretty sure I lost his phone number, Mr. Abernathy gives it to me again. While my two guests pack up their paperwork, I walk into the other room to make the call.
It rings twice before a gruff voice answers. “Hello?”
“Uhm. Hi. Is this Duke?”
“Hi. This is Avery Mathis. I just moved into the Whitmore house.”
“Oh, right. Clyde said you’d be calling.”
“Yeah,” I reply. “Is there a time you can come over, and we can talk about details?”
“I can come whenever.”
Deciding to test my luck, I ask, “Can you stop by later this evening? Maybe around six o’clock?”
“Yep. I’ll be there.”
A man of few words.
Mytireshitthegravel on the driveway leading to the Whitmore house. I look up at the home I’ll be working in for the next couple of months.
Well, hopefully. I guess it depends on how this meeting goes.
I pass this place damn near every day, but I never pay much attention to it. The bones of it are beautiful. It’s a shame that no one has kept up on it over the years. I do love a good project, though. It will be fun bringing it back to life.
I have no idea what I’m walking into—when it comes to the house or my new potential boss. But I guess I’m about to find out.
The front door swings open, and I find myself staring at the woman who walks onto the porch. I assume it’s Avery because I don't recognize her. And I'm sure as shit that I'd remember seeing this woman walk around town.
She’s average height, I’d say. Her long hair is a dark blonde color and wavy.