Page 24 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“Done. I’ve put it out to the Scuttlebutts. I instructed them to also explain their request if you look a little lost, dear,” Mrs. Carver says. “We’ll get you squared away in no time.”
“Betty,” Mr. Carver complains. “Scuttlebutts is s’posed to be a secret society. This man…” He points to Rafe.
“His name is Rafe, Mr. Carver,” I say. Maybe they need a trigger word too.
“Rafe isn’t a resident, and y’all always go flapping your gums.” Mr. Carver’s pout would make a toddler proud.
“I’m a temporary resident, and your secret is safe with me, but it’s very important to understand that Thane doesn’t require fixing. There’s nothing to get squared away, so to speak, he simply needs accommodations to access the world as others do.” Rafe is a smooth talker, that’s for sure, but he gets his point across effectively. His effortlessly styled blond hair and blue eyes give him a surfer vibe, but the sweater-vest ruins it.
“Secret’s safe like patient confidentiality safe?” Mr. Carver asks in challenge, completely ignoring the most important thing Rafe said. His big white bushy eyebrows pitch low and tangle with his lashes as he waits for an answer.
“Well, you’re not my patient, but yes, I am a vault of information. You can trust me.”
“Mm-hmm.” Mr. Carver is obviously still not on board, but he doesn’t say anything else.
“Thane.” I’ve got to reason with him. I know how quickly this can get out of control. “Have you thought about this?”
“I always think about everything.”
“Lottie has a point,” Rafe says quietly, stepping closer to us. “You still get a little…overwhelmed by too many people. What if you go to the grocery store and six different people start asking you about tone? Will you be able to handle that?”
“Yes.” Thane is so confident in everything he does. “I don’t go to the grocery store. Everything gets delivered to me.”
“Oh, sorry about that,” Mrs. Perez interrupts. “Bobby, he’s our grocer and delivery man, he’s out with a hernia—won’t be back for about two months.”
“I’ll find another?—”
“Not one that’ll come to Sweetbriar,” Mr. Abboud says with a cluck of his tongue. “Even that Zon place makes the postal workers deliver out here. You wouldn’t want your eggs gettin’ tossed on the porch.” He leans in and wraps his hands around his lips as though he’s telling a secret. “Package delivery is done by a part-timer, and Old Cougar doesn’t have the same pride in his job that he used to. Damn shame, that one.”
“It’s hot in here.” Thane says, glancing around my office. “Where’s your central air?”
“This building is old—it doesn’t have central air,” I say. “There’s a window unit over by the back window.”
“That’s archaic.” He’s glaring at my air conditioner as if it’ll respond.
“Tone,” Mrs. Carver says gently.
“Tone,” Mrs. Perez says at the same time.
“Tone.” Mr. Abboud shouts the word, and it makes me wonder if his hearing is going.
“Mr. Abboud, he isn’t deaf, remember?” I whisper.
“Oh, right.” Mr. Abboud’s cheeks darken, and his shoulders rise in an impish shrug.
“I’ve got to get down to the library.” Mrs. Perez stands with Hercules in her arms and crosses the room to Thane. “I am truly sorry,” she says, patting his arm. He watches the point of contact as though it disgusts him, and she removes her hand.
“Do you have peanut oil on your hands?” he asks.
“What?” she gasps. “No, of course not. We all used hand sanitizer before getting out of the car.”
He nods and drops his gaze to Hercules. Mrs. Perez tries to hand the dog to Thane, but he keeps his hands in his pockets, so she simply places the puppy on the floor.
The screaming starts before the paws even hit the tile.
“For fuck’s sake,” Thane grumbles, then leans down and picks up Hercules. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this thing? I can’t carry her around for the rest of my life.”
“Just put her in her crate,” Mrs. Carver says while gathering her purse.
