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Chapter Twelve
Over the weekend,Chris found a hotel close by. Not that he had wanted to; he wanted to stay with Agatha even if the kitchen would be full of women when he woke up. He knew he shouldn’t have stopped to say goodbye, but he couldn’t help himself. He had just needed to see the woman one more time.
Everything that the women had said to him had been worth it to see Agatha throw a muffin at the blonde. Then sarcastically call the other blonde “mom.” Agatha was great at sarcasm.
After he had left her house, he hadn’t seen her again all weekend, not even a glimpse. Not that he had been looking, he just happened to notice that she wasn’t outside. Not when he had spent three hours trying to fix the railings on the porch. Not when he had decided to remove the paint from the wainscoting in the front room, the one with the big window facing her house. Not even when he had sat on his porch as he ate not only lunch but also his supper. Not one glimpse of her.
He would have thought that she wasn’t even home, except there were lights on in her house when it got dark. More lights than he would have thought needed for a woman who lived alone. Or maybe she had company, except there were no extra cars on the street. Not that he was looking.
Today, he should be cleaning the mess in the dining room or even in the bedroom upstairs. At first, he hadn’t cleaned up because he knew how much work it was going to be, then it was due to the fear that just touching anything would kill him from unknown substances, something that he hadn’t once thought of until Agatha said it. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility.
Instead, he had spent his day going from one half-finished project to another, not doing anything substantial to any of them unless it was to make them worse. That had happened more than a few times.
So far, he hadn’t finished a single project he had started in the house. When he had started each project, he had thought it was going to be easy. Then about an hour into it, he would realize he was in over his head. So, he would stop before he completely destroyed whatever it was. After more research, he realized he was missing a tool, or his project wasn’t exactly like the one in the video, or he had just done something completely wrong. Sometimes all of the above.
He tried to not let it bother him. After all, wasn’t there a learning curve on learning home improvement? So he made a few mistakes—it happened.
Stopping his progress on removing the kitchen floors, he headed for the front of his house. It was just after three in the afternoon. Stepping out onto his porch, he watched and waited.
As if on a timer, Agatha opened her door and slipped outside. What was it about this woman that made his heart skip a beat? Chris left his house wanting to talk to her. He wanted to see her up close again.
Once he had made his way across the street, she noticed him and smiled from her spot on the top of the steps. Her mail was at her side, and she was holding a can of pop, just like every day.
Her orange shirt said “Pin” in gold letters, the letters and the shirt clashing horribly.
“Hi, Agatha. Good news. No asbestos, so I’ll live.” He smiled. He had just gotten the call and thought she would be interested, which was why he had hurried over there.
Grinning back at him, she took a sip of pop. “Good, except the rest of the house is trying to kill you for hurting it so bad.”
“I’m cleaning today and reassessing.” If that meant procrastinating, then he wasn’t lying.
“Hiring professionals?”
“If I didn’t know you were joking, I would start taking your question to heart. Except I know that you believe I can complete my renovations on my own,” he said. Ignoring the disbelief on her face, he continued, “Sorry about your friends thinking we slept together.”
“Sisters,” Agatha corrected and wondered if he remembered any of them from high school. “I don’t think they think so anymore. I told them that you are destroying your house, and I am the only neighbor that lets you stay over when needed.” She grinned, and he realized she was the only neighbor who had taken notice of him.
“They were your sisters? You don’t look alike,” he replied and realized he maybe shouldn’t point that out. It wasn’t like he and his siblings looked all that much alike. Okay, they totally did.
“I know. I’m the black sheep of the family, literally and figuratively.” She grinned at her joke and then turned from him. “But I look like this one, don’t I, Violet?”
“You do, we are sisters,” Violet said and gave Agatha a hug.
“My favorite sister. How was your day today?” Her attention was turned to the little girl.
“Nick J. dumped glitter on me again. He keeps saying I’m sparkly.” Violet didn’t seem happy with the attention from the opposite sex.
“You are sparkly, baby girl. You get that from Mom.” Agatha hugged the little girl to her again.
“Dad calls her bubbly.” The girl didn’t sound convinced but accepted the hug.
“Bubbly, sparkly, it’s the same thing. Don’t let Nick J. take that away from you, Violet. Don’t let anyone take that from you,” Agatha said as she looked over the girl’s head. There was pain in her eyes.
She shook herself and got up to take the little girl into the house as usual. Neither invited him to go with, so he was left on the sidewalk.
He didn’t understand the pain he saw on her face. After the door shut behind the pair, he went back to his house, but he couldn’t get her sad brown eyes out of his mind. Someone had hurt her once, and he hated that person.
