Chapter 5
Luke
I shook hands with Mr. Peterson as we stood looking over the table that I just finished piecing back together in his dining room.
“It's a work of art, Luke.” He patted me on the shoulder and handed me a check with his other hand. I took it and looked down at it.
“This isn't what we discussed.”
“Yeah, there’s a little extra. You got it done so quickly, you deserve a bonus,” he said with a genuine smile.
I folded the check and stuffed it in the back pocket of my jeans. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“I would eventually like to have you make a couple of end tables for my trophy room,” he added as we walked out of the house and down the front steps of the porch.
“It will be after the season before I can start a new set. Plus, I may have a contract to produce several pieces for a retailer, so the sooner you can let me know when you’re ready for them, I can make sure you get a spot in my schedule.”
“Good for you, son. I’ll be sure to let you know.”
We said our farewells, and I waved one last time before driving off. He only lived about twenty minutes from me, and the drive went by fairly quickly.
When I got home, I spent a few hours cleaning the shop and found myself looking at the house from time to time wondering what my new neighbor was doing. After cleaning the shop, I pulled out the push mower and started taking care of the grass.
When Ryan bought the house, we made a deal that I would handle the grass, and he would handle any repairs the house needed. While I knew I got the short end of the deal, it was okay.
The difference between the two of us was that I had to work a lot harder to sustain my physique while he was naturally built. I worked twice as hard to keep myself toned. He laughed at me all the time about my six-pack and gloated often about his eight-pack. I honestly think he’s just jealous that I have a good three inches on him and have no trouble growing a beard. He makes fun of my abs, and I give him hell about his goatee. It all works out in the end.
Pushing the mower with a weighted backpack was often an extra workout for me. Though, today it was hot, so I skipped the backpack. I finished the acre around front and was starting the back when I saw Emerson walking out of the woods. She looked at me and just stopped. I released the lever on the handle and the mower went quiet.
“Do you ever wear clothes?” she asked, eyebrows raised.
“I have on clothes.” I looked down at my basketball shorts.
“Let me rephrase. Do you ever wear a shirt?” She looked me over again. I would be a liar if I said I didn't enjoy her eyeballing me.
I smiled indignantly. “I'm working out, and it’s hot.”
“You're mowing the lawn. I would hardly say that's working out.” She started to walk away.
“It’s exercise. That counts,” I called after her.
She shook her head and walked closer to her door. “Keep telling yourself that.”
“You wanna grill some chicken later?” I wasn't sure why I had asked or where it had come from... It just kind of came out. Maybe I missed grilling out with Ryan, and I figured she had to eat something. Plus, I saw the grocery bags she’d brought in, so I knew she didn't have much in the way of groceries other than coffee, a few cans of soup, and a loaf of bread.
“Thanks, but no thanks,” she said before she walked the last few steps to her door and went inside without even looking back.
Shot down. I hadn’t exactly made nice with the new neighbor, it seemed.
I finished mowing then headed inside. After a long shower, I went about getting dinner prepared. I lit the grill and waited for it to heat up before I placed the three chicken breasts on it. I walked back in and put some brown rice on and threw a bag of green beans in the microwave to steam. I had to eat clean, and it sucked, once again jealous that Ryan could eat whatever he wanted. I cracked a light beer and sat in my lawn chair as the chicken cooked. I intended to prove I could be a good neighbor and fix her a plate even if she didn't want to eat it with me. And after I finished eating, that’s exactly what I did.
I carried the plate over and knocked on her door. She pulled it open and looked at me over the glasses resting low in the bridge of her nose. I smiled at the sight of a pencil stuck in the messy bun piled on top of her head.
“Yes?” she said as her eyes met mine.
I hesitated, caught off guard by the lump in my throat. “I brought you this. Peace offering?” I pushed the plate out in front of me.
A smile played over her pink lips. “Thanks.” She took it and let the screen door close behind her. I followed her inside.
“I had extra, and without Ryan here to eat it, it’ll just go to waste,” I tried to explain.
“Thanks again. I was just about to take a food break, so good timing.”
“From?” I asked as I watched her unwrap the plate and grab a plastic fork from a drawer.
She looked over at me as she lifted a forkful of green beans to her mouth then paused. “I'm working on securing a grant to help me study this new fungus that is killing the deciduous trees in the area.” She placed the beans in her mouth and chewed.
“I've heard Ryan’s dad talk about that. Causes root rot or something like that?”
“We aren't exactly sure why, but yeah, it seems to concentrate on the roots. I've seen it on branches before, but mostly it attacks the root ball.”
“Well, I hope you get the grant. I'll see you later.” I turned to leave.
She stopped me and said, “Thanks for this. I'll clean your plate and return it tomorrow.”
“No worries. I know where you live,” I smiled and then let myself out.
I laid in bed that night listening to her music playing quietly through my wall. When Ryan and I had planned this place, I hadn't thought about separating the bedrooms. When Ryan was there, more than once I had slept on the couch because of it. This was different, though. Her soft voice was muffled as she sang along and, to be honest, it was soothing. I closed my eyes and listened as she unknowingly sang me to sleep.