Page 45 of Missile Tow
I sat cross-legged on the hardwood floor, pulling Chip to the floor with me. We quietly gazed at the fire until he leaned forward and tossed another piece into the flames, using a metal poker to position the dried wood properly.
After resuming his position next to me, we simultaneously let out an exhausted-sounding breath. And then I began to laugh. Nervously at first until he joined in. We lay back on the area rug, still cracking up, and reaching for each other’s hands. We knew the score. We knew the oddity of our situation.
“The universe didn’t mention this part,” I wisecracked.
“And talk about coincidences,” he mumbled. “This is one hell of a fluke.”
“I know,” I agreed. “Now what are we going to do?”
Chip hummed to himself, perhaps considering my question. I hoped he believed this was indeed a strange coincidence. I don’t believe in coincidences, but I wasn’t sharing my thoughts about messages and such right then. This was all too outlandish.
He suddenly jumped to his feet. “Life goes on, handsome. I have a business to run, and you offered to help.”
He extended his hands and pulled me off the floor. “Can I be inside most of the time?” I asked, faking a shiver. “I’m not used to this kind of cold.”
“Of course, city boy. You can work inside,” he agreed. “You and Bertie can decorate the interior, and I’ll hang the outdoor lights.”
I quickly sat up. “We’re still decorating the mercantile?” I asked.
“Hell yeah, we are!” he exclaimed. “I don’t know about you, but I think those messages you get from the universe are speaking loud and clear,” he began. “And I’m sure as fuck listening now.”
“Let me know what message you get, okay?”
“You’ll know when I know,” Chip answered. “Now get that amazing ass to the mudroom and we’ll get you fitted for snow wear.”
“Aye aye, mister.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN: Chip
Two road plows from the county were busy clearing the main road from the town center that connected to the highway’s on and off ramps. They’d cleared Main Street in front of the mercantile, as well as the main intersection of town, before we arrived to open the store, after three days of being closed.
Bright sunshine lit snow crystals like a billion diamonds exploding all at once. Crisp, dry air signified we were entering another frigid winter in these parts of mountainous Montana. Our small town was blanketed in a thick, insulating layer of snow, and few folks had dared to leave their homes.
The power was back on, and the backup generators I maintained for the store’s refrigeration were finally silent. After Van assisted me with shoveling the gas lanes clear of snow, we moved inside and were warming up before tackling a list of indoor duties.
“So?” Bertie whispered, making sure Van was out of earshot. “Did you shoot your best shot?”
I glanced down the aisle toward the men’s room where Van had gone. “He’s quite a nice guy,” I replied. “Friendly. Good conversationalist. Funny. I like him.”
“I didn’t ask for the entire essay, you idiot. Just give me the Cliff’s Notes. Did you get him into bed?”
I frowned at her, masking a desire to crack up, but ultimately decided on a holier-than-thou approach. “I don’t do stuff like that, Bertie,” I defended, pretending to be insulted.
She shook her head in disappointment. “And that’s why your gay ass is single.”
I grinned mischievously. “But I was sure happy it snowed us in for three days.”
Bertie grinned and clapped her hands. “I knew it!” she exclaimed, clearly excited by my disclosure.
“You don’t know shit, old lady,” I stated.
After making sure the coast was still clear, Bertie inched closer. “Sadie Hatfield is so pissed at me,” she whispered. “And I, for one, could not be happier.”
“You are an evil woman,” I hissed. “Leave Mrs. Hatfield outta this.”
“Nope,” she declared. Bertie motioned toward the restroom. “I happen to knowthatyoung man is the one. Not her city-slicker, wannabe-doctor grandson.”
I laughed in her face. “Thatyoung manisfrom the city,” I reminded her, pointing toward the men’s room.
