Page 28 of Tinsel & Tools
“Most nights. Easier than mixing anything.”
“No secret stash of gin and vermouth?”
“If I had vermouth, I wouldn’t admit it.”
He smiled, lifting his bottle. “Then I’ll stick to beer.”
“Good plan.”
We drank in silence for a moment, just watching the game. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed him rub at his arm and then glance toward the blanket folded over the back of the couch.
“You want that?” I asked, nodding at it.
“Only if you’re not going to use it.”
“Go ahead. I’ve got more.”
“Thanks.” He pulled it down and draped it across his lap, careful with how he spread it.
“You’ll get spoiled if you stay here. Hot shower, cold beer, blanket by the fire, and no loud honking from city traffic.”
“Sounds like a pretty good deal. I could get used to it.”
“It does take some getting used to, but this is home for me.”
“How do you stay busy in a small town?”
“Small town or not, something always needs fixing. My dad and I take on plenty. But my trade’s electrical. In Boston, I worked on commercial jobs, mostly big buildings and office towers. Whole different pace than here.”
“An electrician? That’s impressive.”
“It’s just work.” I took another drink. “But writing’s impressive. I wouldn’t know where to start.”
“Sometimes I don’t either.” He sighed. “Lately it’s been harder than it used to be.”
“Why’s that?”
He turned the bottle in his hand, his eyes on the label. “I used to hear the characters talking in my head. Now nothing.”
I leaned back, watching him. “That can’t be good.”
“Nope.” He looked at me again and sighed. “Doesn’t help that everyone keeps asking when the next book’s coming out.”
“Deadlines. Expectations. That kind of pressure can screw with anybody’s head.”
He studied me for a moment, then smirked slightly. “You sound like you know that from experience.”
“I had tight schedules in Boston. You either deliver on time or get replaced.”
“And now?”
“Now since I work with my father it’s a different pace. A different kind of pressure.”
His smile turned more genuine. “Sounds better.”
“It is.”
He turned more to face me, tucking his leg under the other. “What made you move back here?”
