When I got to the house, Marc's truck was out front and he was putting up the ladder. He was wearing a flannel shirt, and I was, as embarrassing as this is to admit, a little disappointed not to find him bare-chested again.
"Hey there, granddaughter," he waved.
"Nell," I said.
"Marc." He smiled a dangerously cute smile. "Eleanor at the shop?"
"Yes. I can call over there if you want."
"No." He picked up a heavy load of roofing tiles. "It's just she usually makes me something to eat when I'm working for her. And she's a good cook."
"Sorry. I'd offer, but you don't want my cooking."
He smiled and looked at me. Not stared, exactly, but looked long enough to be studying me. It was a look of confidence, bordering on arrogance. But there was also something sad that betrayed the cool guy persona he was trying so hard to achieve. A bad boy with a touch of wounded puppy.
Suddenly I was self-conscious. "I should get inside," I said.
The spell was broken. He looked away. It seemed like he blushed, but maybe he was just sweaty from the work he'd been doing. In any case, he nodded and turned away.
Barney greeted me with the usual excitement, for which he got two of his favorite doggy cookies. I let him out in the yard and he wandered out of sight, likely down to the river. I sat waiting for him to return, but ten minutes went by and then twenty. No Barney.
A cloud moved over the sun and suddenly it turned the afternoon chilly and gray. I walked in the direction Barney had gone but there was no sight of him, just a few squirrels who scrambled up trees as I came close.
"Barney," I called out. Nothing. "Barney," I said a little more insistently this time. Still nothing.
I veered off the path I usually took to the edge of my grandmother's property and started toward the thicket of trees that we romantically called the "black forest." Although there were only a few dozen trees, they were old and even as they dropped their leaves, they still blocked out most of the darkening sky.
"Barney," I practically screamed.
There were more than five acres of property, but Barney was lazy. He wouldn't have wandered around. He would have done his business and come back to the house, knowing dinner was waiting for him.
"Barney," I finally screamed.
I heard rustling behind me and spun around. I saw nothing.
A storm was now brewing in an ever-darkening sky, and I hadn't brought a flashlight with me. With the tall trees and the encroaching evening, I felt blackness descend around me.
"Barney," I called toward the rustling. I could hear a slight panic in my voice. Even though I knew it had to be the squirrels, a small voice inside me said it didn't sound like squirrels. I was momentarilyfrozen, staring at the spot where I heard the sound. I wasn't sure whether I was scared that something had happened to the dog or was about to happen to me.
"Nothing happens in this town," I told myself. "Good or bad."
With common sense taking the lead, I turned back toward the house. I would give Barney an hour to get hungry and come home, and if he hadn't, I'd come back out with a flashlight.
I took a dozen steps and heard a sound behind me. It was more than just rustling leaves. It was footsteps. I clenched my fist into a pathetic attempt at a weapon and turned.
"Who is that?"
Nothing.
"Who is that?"
"Hey," a male voice came from the other direction.
"Marc?"
"Yeah, you okay?"
I was, I guess. "I thought someone was behind me."
Marc came toward me. "I saw. You were about to do battle with a vicious squirrel. Or maybe a bunny." I turned and saw a squirrel rustling in the leaves before it scampered up a tree. Marc started laughing and I turned every shade of red from light pink to brick.
He smiled. "I heard you calling for Barney." He stepped toward me. "I came to tell you he's in paw-to-paw combat with another squirrel out front. Takes after you, I guess."
He took another step, and I instinctively stepped back, more out of extreme embarrassment than anything.
"Did it scare you that bad?" he asked.
"No." I hated being the silly girl. Maybe it was stupid to punish Marc for my self-consciousness, but I couldn't help myself. We walked for a minute in uncomfortable silence.
"It's an amazing old place, isn't it?" Marc stopped and looked at the house just up ahead.
"Sometimes I love it almost as much as my grandmother does."
"I bet she'd leave it to you, if you asked her," he said as he turned to me, his eyes sparkling.
"Eleanor will be in this house for years," I said, a little offended. "Years and years."
"I suppose. I've always wanted to go through the place, though. You know, see what's hidden in the attic."
"I don't think anything's hidden up there. And you know my grandmother. She wouldn't want someone poking around her house even if the crown jewels were in it."
He smiled and nodded. "I suppose. I guess I just like going where I don't belong." He winked at me, as if I knew what he meant.
I moved ahead and Marc followed. By the time we reached the back door, we were side by side. His arm casually brushed against mine, and something about it made me jump a bit. Barney, looking a little worried, caught sight of us and ran to my side.
"Why didn't you come when I called?" I asked him as he jumped at me so excitedly that I nearly fell over.
"Didn't Eleanor tell you he's losing his hearing?"
"I guess I forgot."
Barney jumped up on me once again. Before I could crouch down to let the dog have his way, Marc pulled him off me roughly. Barney winced at the move.
"Don't do that. You'll hurt him," I yelled.
"Dogs shouldn't jump on people," he said flatly, and released Barney.
"I have to feed him," I said. Leaving Marc at the back door, Barney and I went inside.
Barney had barely begun his meal when the doorbell rang. I opened the front door to no one, but on the porch were a half dozen of my grandmother's flowers banded together with twine. Resting on the twine was a note: "Sorry I scared you. Mr. Squirrel."
In the driveway, Marc had turned on the headlights of his truck. He waved at me. I waved back. "I'm going to clean up here before I leave," he called, gesturing toward the pile of old roof tiles that littered the front lawn.
"Thanks," I said, and held up the flowers. He smiled and I smiled back, then closed the door. I don't know why I'd reacted so strongly to Marc. He hadn't really done anything but remind me that I was easily spooked, and even more easily embarrassed.
I grabbed the flowers and brought them inside. I couldn't put them in a vase. If my grandmother saw that someone was picking through her flowers, she wouldn't be happy about it. But I didn't want to throw them out either. I took them into my bedroom and put them on the nightstand. I lay on the bed and stared at them for a while, then I turned my attention to the ceiling.
Tomorrow was Sunday, and that meant going home. If I took the 4:40 train back tomorrow afternoon, I'd be in Manhattan around 6:30 p.m. and at my apartment no later than seven. I would have survived a whole weekend without talking to Ryan.
But going back meant going to work and either seeing him, or spending the day only a few floors away and not seeing him. Neither option exactly thrilled me.
I had to come up with some kind of game plan for what I would say if I saw him. I had to figure out my response to any messages he might have left on my voice mail. If he left messages on my voice mail.
And it also meant finding a place to live. I couldn't afford the place Ryan and I had planned to move into together, and my apartment had already been re-rented.
It was too much to think about, so I did the only thing I could think of-I went to sleep.