CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JEANIE
“Oh, sweetie, I’m so excited for you,” Maggie’s crowing while we wrap up the Sunday lunch shift. “It’s about time something good happened, what with all you’ve had to deal with from that good-fer-nothin’ Clint. That boy ain’t worth spit in a rainstorm.”
It’s the one night a week we close early, and Mason is coming over for dinner. I’m a bit nervous maybe I pushed it too quickly, but I can’t help but bubble with excitement when Maggie is pepping me up.
“So, what are you gonna feed him?” Maggie asks in a hushed voice as we’re stacking coffee cups on the shelf under the counter.
The doors are already locked, but the Silver Springs’ Ladies Guild is in their usual booth, sipping their post-church coffee for what will likely be, at least, the next forty-five minutes.
“I’m making a roast with all the fixins and cherry pie for dessert,” I tell her.
She’s winking at me. “Cherry pie, huh? Sure that’s all you’re giving him for dessert?”
“Maggie!”
“Oh, pish! You can just wipe that shock right on off yer face, girlie. I’ve seen the looks you two send back and forth. Mhmm, hot enough to fry an egg. So, tell me, is he big?”
She’s wagging her eyebrows and grinning madly. Despite my embarrassment, I can’t help but smile as I shake my head.
“That big, huh?” she laughs.
“I am not having this conversation with you. May I remind you, you’re a married woman, Mrs. Maggie Spencer.”
“That’s right, I’m married, but I still got eyes, don’t I?” She’s pretending to fan herself. “Woooo boy, that man sure is a sight. You take one look at him and you can just tell he knows his way around… dessert. Can’t blame a girl for wonderin’!”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to settle for wondering then,” I conclude, smiling to myself as I remember our afternoon in bed.
He sure does know his way around things.
An hour later I’m finally heading home, nervous excitement jumping under my skin. Other than Clint, who Jerry hated, I’ve never dated anyone, let alone brought them home.
Asleep in the recliner when I walk in the door, Jerry looks thin and pale. He’s deteriorating before my eyes and I don’t know what I’m going to do if the cancer wins.
Jinx jumps from his lap and rubs against my leg, distracting me from the welling moisture at my eyes. I lean down to pet her silky coal black fur then set about cleaning the house up before Mason comes over.
Sometime later, I’m at work rolling out the cold dough for the lattice top of the pie when Jerry comes into the kitchen, thumping along awkwardly with the walker.
“So, when does the guest of honor get here?” he asks, a little gruffly.
I glance at my watch and feel a jolt of panic. “In about a half hour or so.”
“Hmph.”
I look over at him, “Something wrong, Uncle Jerry?”
“No, but I remember the last upstart you brought here,” he says, shaking his head.
“Don’t worry. Mason is nothing like Clint. For one, he’s a grown man, Clint was… is maturity-challenged.”
“That’s another thing. Just how old is he?” He’s shaking his head muttering and I’m starting to get a little nervous.
“Give him a chance, Uncle Jerry, please? For me?” I ask. He grumbles but relents.
“I just want you to be treated well, that’s all, dear.”
I kiss him on the forehead. “I know. Alright, I’m going to pop the pie in the oven, then I’ve got to go get cleaned up.”
“Pie, you say?” he says, looking suddenly less sullen. “Some kind of coconut flour something or other?”
I laugh. “Nope, no alternatives tonight. I figure it’s a special occasion. We all deserve a treat.”
“Well, hallelujah to the country! I might just like this fella after all,” he says, slapping his knee.
I toss the pie into the piping hot oven and race to my room to get changed. Slipping out of my cleaning clothes, I hop in the shower, running soap all over my body.
What would it be like to shower with Mason? I wonder.
The thought gets me hotter than the scalding water. I hurry out, anxious to see him.
I worked two shifts Saturday at the diner and Mason wanted to work late at the shop. I know he has a lot of jobs stacking up, but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed he didn’t want to meet up after I got off work last night.
I’ve put on a strappy, lavender, floral print dress with a ruffle along the bust and run my hands through my hair, twisting and defining the natural curls as they dry. I reapply my basic makeup routine and check myself in the mirror.
I look the same, but I feel somehow sexier, more aware of my body, and I know I have Mason to thank for that.
The doorbell rings and I go running, nearly tripping over Jinx as I stumble to the door and swing it open to find Mason holding a bouquet of wildflowers.
“Hi, these are for you,” he says, flashing his dimpled grin and handing me the flowers.
“Thanks. Come in,” I say and take the bouquet, burying my face in the flowers pretending to smell them so I can get a good look at Mason.
He’s clean-shaven, his hair has none of the wildness it does at the garage, and I’m more than a little shocked by the crisp navy suit and pristine white shirt he’s wearing. He’s a far cry from the ‘grease monkey’ Clint tried to cast him as.
Jinx rubs up against him. I’m more than a little jealous the cat gets to do exactly what I want to.
I swallow, hard.
Is it time for dessert yet?
Uncle Jerry clears his throat from the adjoining living room. I lead Mason out of the entryway to Jerry’s recliner.
“Uncle Jerry, I’d like you to meet Mason.”
Mason extends a hand and leans down. “Mason Beckett, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
But Jerry stands up, a touch shakily, and grips his hand in a firm shake, “Jerry Conry… and we’ll see.”
So much for giving him a chance…
A couple hours and a roast later, things have gotten less awkward, but Jerry’s surprisingly full of questions, and I’m trying to curtail the third degree where I can.
“So, Mason, my Uncle Jerry used to build Indy cars,” I offer.
“Well, I started off building Formula Ones, but when Can-Am collapsed, I moved on to Indys.”
Mason looks interested. “How fascinating. I would imagine the specialized custom vehicles demanded in Indy racing were more interesting to build than the more standardized F1s.”
“Eh, maybe, been a long time,” he waves dismissively and turns a keen eye back on Mason. “So, why don’t you tell us about yourself, Mr. Beckett? What kind of person pours a bunch of money into fixing up a shop in a nowhere town like Silver Springs?”
Mason answers vaguely. “The sort who enjoys clean air, good people, and privacy, I suppose.”
“Hmph. I haven’t known too many mechanics could afford to move for those luxuries. Speaking of luxuries, that’s an awful nice car out front.”
“Thank you,” Mason says politely, but elaborates no further.
I can see Jerry’s eyes narrowing as he is about to double down in his interrogation. For such a frail man, Jerry is a force to reckon with when he sets his mind to it, and Mason seems uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
“Oh look! The pie is ready!” I blurt out, interrupting and hoping to distract Jerry.
My tactic works. Jerry is momentarily stymied. Mason scoffs his pie down quickly and looks at his watch.
“Jeanie, dinner was wonderful, but I should probably get going. It’s full week ahead and I need to get an early start tomorrow,” he says, standing up and then reaching out a hand to Uncle Jerry. “Mr. Conry, so nice to meet you. Thank you so much for your kind hospitality.”
Uncle Jerry looks at him suspiciously, but shakes his hand and nods. “G’night.”
I’m disappointed, but I can’t say I blame him for wanting to escape the interview. I walk Mason to the front porch and pull him into a kiss, but it feels rushed. Before I know it, he’s hopping into his car.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I’m calling after him as he waves.
And just like that, I’m alone with Jerry again.
“Well, he sure got out of here in a hurry,” Jerry says.
I want to be angry with him, but he looks so tired I can’t muster the conviction.
“You could have been easier on him, you know,” I say, helping him into the recliner.
“Hmph. Boy wants to go steady with you, he can take a little heat or he doesn’t deserve you.”
I smile at his old-fashioned terms, but my smile fades as I realize I don’t know what to call what we’re doing, what to call us… or if there even really is an ‘us.’
Jerry sighs. “I’ll give him this, he’s a heck of an improvement over the last one, much more of a gentleman. I just don’t know, Jeanie, there’s something strange going on with him. What sort of people does he come from? He didn’t come to town two to a mule, and I don’t know of any mechanics who are doing much more than just gettin’ by. Why can’t he give a straight answer about anything? I trust your judgement, of course, but I want you to make sure you’re keepin’ those green eyes wide open. You’re one of a kind and you deserve it all.”
My eyes cloud with tears. “Thanks, Uncle Jerry.”
I help him to bed and make my way to my empty room. I’m exhausted, but sleep doesn’t come. I lay in bed, the wildflowers on the table beside me, wondering why I feel so irked.
*
The music is loud in the garage when I get there. Mason is busy at work. People come and go through the storefront. The morning flies by with neither of us saying more than a handful of words to one another.
I don’t like it.
After Jerry voiced his concerns, I can’t stop thinking about all the things I don’t know about him. It occurs to me he is still nearly as much of a mystery as he was when he first came into town.
People at the diner have asked me about him, wanting the gossip. I tell myself I’m vague because I don’t want to add to the chatter, but the truth is I can’t tell them anything because I don’t really know anything.
I have a half hour before I have to head out and we’ve got a lull, so I head into the shop, needing something to quell all these uneasy feelings brewing.
“Mason?” I ask, not seeing him.
“Back here,” I hear him, behind a truck.
Following his voice, I see him texting on a cell phone I don’t recognize. When I turn the corner, he puts it back in his pocket and looks up at me expectantly.
My nerves are on edge now.
“So… last night was awkward,” I say, prompting him as he hefts a part onto the workbench.
“Sorry, I was just… distracted. With work. You know how busy it’s getting here,” he says, glancing at me apologetically as he pulls out some tools and starts taking the object apart.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “Jerry is just really protective.”
He’s nodding but not answering.
“So what’s… your family like? You never talk about them,” I say, leaning against the work bench we christened only days before.
For a fleeting second, I see his muscles tense as he focuses on the part in front of him. “They’re fine.”
“What do they think about you living here? Are they nearby?”
“They’re fine with it, and no.”
I feel my teeth starting to grind as he evades my questions.
“So where do they live then? Are they going to come out and visit, see the shop?”
“They’re spread out and I don’t know right now. Sorry, I really need to focus on this. The customer is going to be back soon.”
It’s like I’ve been slapped. I’m being dismissed. Clearly, I’m not important enough to share literally anything with… and from his demeanor, it seems like he’s okay with keeping it that way.
“I get it,” I say, biting my cheek and fighting to keep my composure, to not blow up on him like I want to. Maybe I just need to step away from the situation and it’ll all make sense.
What about that cell phone?
I might be inexperienced, but I’ve seen enough drama in this small town to know when someone is hiding something. Usually, in a town like this the secret is easy enough to snuff out, but I have no inroads into Mason’s world. I know as much as anyone else, which is nothing.
If I don’t know him, how do I know he’s any better than any other guy? Because his kisses feel like liquid fire and when I look in his eyes it feels like the world dissolves away?
I have a list for a reason, because when you neglect those standards you end up like my mama, or like every one of Clint’s conquests.
Jerry was right. I can’t afford to close my eyes to the reality before me.