Page 1 of The Things That Hold Us

Chapter One

teapots and tension

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

“Charlie?” I faintly hear, but it’s muffled.

“Charlie,are you in there?” I hear again.

Blinking, everything starts coming back into focus. I'm in my antique shop, and Mr. Reeves is standing in front of me smiling with a creepy clown in his hand, ringing my front desk bell.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Mr. Reeves.” I quickly apologize. “I must've zoned out.”

He chuckles and hands over the clown with shaky, wrinkly hands.

“I see that, you seem to be doing that a lot lately. Are you ok?”

I pause, reaching for the antique. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” I answer with a smile, and start ringing him up.

I don't bother asking if he found everything he was looking for. Every week he comes in and buys a new creepy clown, and somehow, every week I have new clowns come in. I don't know where they come from to be honest, or why he loves them. I haven't thought to ask.

“Is everything alright?” he asks.

I smile and nod, reassuring him that I am fine.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

I bag up the clown, tell him to have a nice day, and then start making my rounds to close up the shop.

I begin locking up the back room when I hear the door chime, letting me know someone has entered the shop.

Dammit, I forgot to turn the sign over to “closed” again.

“I’m sorry, I’m actually closed for today.” I yell as I make my way back to the front.

“The sign says open.” I hear a deep voice answer, and I roll my eyes at the response.

As I enter the room, my eyes meet a mountain of a man standing in front of the door. I can’t help but to take him in. He’s absolutely huge. His arms look like tree trunks for Christ's sake.

He has dark brown hair that’s pulled back into a messy bun, and he’s wearing what can only be described as lumberjack attire.

“I…” I stutter, realizing I’m staring.

I see a smile tug at the corner of his full lips. Jesus, what is wrong with me? Be professional, Charlie.

“I’m sorry, I actually am closed.” I point to the door, “I just forgot to lock the front door first, and turn the sign over.”

He looks back at the door, and rubs the back of his neck. “Damn, I'm sort of on a time crunch here, and I was told this place has the best selection for unique gifts.” He says, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

I stare at him for a moment. He looks really distraught, and I can’t help but feel bad for the guy. I guess I could stay open for another 10 minutes. It's not like I have a reason to rush home anymore. And to be honest, I could use the distraction.

“As long as you're quick.” I tell him with a smile so he knows I’m not completely serious, and I see that corner of his lips tug up again, revealing dimples that send butterflies to my stomach, and I instinctively shove them back down into the dark hole they live in these days.

“I’ll try not to take too much of your time.” he says, then starts walking around the store.

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