Page 7 of Reckless Chances
Chapter 4– Charlie
Even though the springtemperatures had been colder than usual, the hops he had planted were going crazy. Charlie surveyed his plants from his kitchen window, feeling like a proud father. He dropped the curtain, a tea towel from the bar, over the window. He stretched his arms over his head, his fingers grazing the ceiling of the loft in his tiny home, then headed outside.
The morning dew was cool on his bare feet as he made his way through the meadow and into the trees. He had an outdoor shower rigged up at the tiny home but found the morning river dips more rejuvenating. He took a couple of deep breaths and then plunged into the glacier water feet first, proud that he could now do it without screaming. His skin tingled as he toweled himself off along the bank of the river.
This was his home. This was his way of living. It wasn’t for everyone or really anyone, he thought – but it sure worked for him. He got dressed in jeans, his favorite plaid shirt, and his trademark suspenders, and headed into town on his Santa Cruz full-suspension mountain bike. He hadn’t built the laneway to his property yet, and there was no way a regular bicycle could’ve navigated through the ruts and gnarled roots that made up his driveway.
At the brewpub, he often chose hand tools over high-powered drills and saws when he could, but that day he opted for the loud power tools. His grand opening deadline was looming, and he needed to get as much done as fast as possible. He had done most of the construction himself, working from dawn until he had to open up the Last Chance Tavern, and then bartended at the seedy bar until the last drunk, usually one of his friends, was kicked to the curb.
Throughout the day, in between saw cuts and the staccato bursts from the air nailer, he noticed that the project next door was silent. He shrugged and continued to work all day, pausing only to run across the street to the Sugar Peaks Café to grab a croissant and an espresso. As he locked the doors for the evening, he noticed that there was no action at all in the flower shop. That’s odd. He thought to himself, and then threw his leg over his bike and headed to the Last Chance for his shift.
Luckily, the weekday crowd was pretty tame, and Charlie polished the last glass and closed up the tavern at midnight. He had to pass by the construction site on his way home, and as he pedaled by, he noticed that the front door to the flower shop was open.
He continued pedaling, but then hung his head. The neighborly, small-town thing to do would be to check and make sure that everything was okay. He had done his best to avoid talking to the flower shop girl, Emma, hoping that he could figure out who the hell she was before he stuck his foot in his mouth.
He sighed, then performed a quick U-turn and set his bike against one of the iron lampposts that ran along Main Street. He poked his head in the door of the flower shop. “Hello?” his voice echoed in the empty space. Temporary lighting was strung throughout, illuminating their shared exposed brick wall. “Hello?” he repeated a little louder.
He heard what sounded like a struggle, some grunting, and then a loud clatter. He rushed into the building. “Flower girl?” he yelled. From the town chatter, he knew her name was Emma, but they hadn’t been formally introduced. What if someone was robbing her? He looked around, there wasn’t much to steal.
“Can you help me?” a strained voice called out.
Charlie jogged to the backroom to find Emma struggling to hold up a very poorly made wall. “Sheesh,” he stepped behind her and grabbed the top of the structure. “I’ve got it,” he said. “Where do you want this?”
“Over there,” Emma pointed with her work gloved hand.
Charlie easily lifted the piece of wall and set it against the actual wall.
“Thanks.” She was breathless.
“What are you doing? It’s past midnight.” He looked at his watch.
“I have to get this done.” She pointed to the wall, which was now tilted to the left. “It’s not supposed to do that, is it?” she asked.
Her shoulders slumped and Charlie could see the defeat in her blue eyes. “Ah, no. Unless you’re going for, what do they call it, the modern look?”
She smiled meekly. “Not exactly.”
“Didn’t you hire someone to do all this for you?” Just as Charlie gestured to her wall, it heaved and then collapsed to the ground in a heap. The two of them jumped away from the cloud of dust as the board clattered to the floor.
“I did, but he’s not calling me back. This display nook needs to get done before Freddie can come back and finish the wiring, and Freddie needs to finish the wiring so the drywaller can come in, and...” her voice was starting to race.
“I get the gist.” Charlie put up his hand. “By any chance. is it Andrew that you hired to do the framing?”
“How did you know?” Her eyes met his for the first time, and he felt a jolt of energy pass through his body. He had never seen eyes that color before, the icy blue of the glacier crevasses he used to climb. There’s no way he had ever seen eyes like hers before. He would’ve remembered something so beautiful, so sparkly. He breathed a sigh of relief. There was no way, no matter how frat-party drunk he’d been, that’d he slept with this woman. He felt like he could relax a little, now that he’d put the idea that he somehow knew Emma to rest.
“He’s pretty much the only guy in town and he’s away backcountry camping.”
Emma’s entire body seemed to deflate. “For how long?” Those glacier ice eyes were wide, and he thought he saw a slight quiver in her lips.
“I’m not sure.” It wasn’t exactly a lie, but Charlie knew that Andrew liked to disappear into the woods for weeks at a time.
“Dammit.” Emma kicked at the pile of two by fours on the floor.
Charlie pulled his hair back and held it at the back of his neck while he surveyed the disaster. “What were you trying to, um, build?”
Emma walked to the counter, unrolled her plans, and pointed to the paper, “A display nook.”
Charlie followed behind, but not too closely. Something was happening to him, something that he hadn’t felt in years. Not just lust, but a genuine attraction to Emma. She was somehow sweet and determined at the same time. He had heard nothing but good things about her around town, yes, he was an unwilling part of the Chance Rapids rumor mill – he was the main bartender in town. He leaned on his elbow and traced the lines on the drawing with his finger. “That’s it?”
