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“No,” they both said.
“Martha’s just a pain in my ass, always checking on me.”
“Someone needs to make sure you’re taking care of yourself. You’re not a spring chicken any longer.”
“That spring passed a long time ago,” Joe said.
“Exactly my point, which is why I came to bring you this.” She placed the box on the desk and pulled out a big chunk of what looked like a pink rock. A round wooden pedestal was attached to the bottom where a cord stuck out.
“What in the hell is that?” Joe asked.
“A Himalayan salt lamp.”
“It’s ugly.”
Martha hugged the hunk of salt to her chest as if Joe offended the inanimate object. “It’s natural and beautiful.”
“Why do I need that?” Joe asked.
Martha walked around the desk behind Lucas and plugged it in, resting it on the shelf to the left of the desk. “It’ll purify the air and help with your allergies. It’s that time of year, and we all know how you get. I’m doing the entire town a favor.”
“You have bad allergies, too?” Lucas asked. He lived on allergy meds for half the year.
“Only in the spring and fall.” He turned back to Martha, a look of pure skepticism in his eyes. “How is that chunk of salt going to help with my allergies?”
“It can attract pollutants in the air,” she explained like he should’ve already known.
“Grandpa,” Lucas said. “It’s worth a shot.” It might’ve seemed a bit crazy, but people swore by the powers of natural products, and if it didn’t cause them any harm to try, why not?
“Fine,” Joe spat. “Leave the damn lamp as long as I don’t have to eat it.”
Martha laughed. “I mean if you want to lick it that’s your prerogative. I’m not going to stop you.”
Lucas laughed. Martha was turning out to be a delightful distraction. Joe let out a perturbed breath obviously not feeling the same way.
“I need to get back now,” Martha said. “Lucas it’s been a pleasure. Don’t be a stranger.”
He looked past Joe, who was mumbling under his breath, at Martha. “I’ll stop by. I’d love to check out what you have.”
Joe grumbled behind him some more.
“I heard you have homemade soap made from beer.”
“Now why in the hell would you want to wash yourself with beer when you can drink it? You hippy dippies; I’ll never understand you.”
“Oh you hush,” Martha said. “And yes, Lucas, I do have homemade soap made with beer. It’s made by one of Willow Cove’s own. How did you hear about it?”
Lucas froze before he could reply. He thought this sneaking around with Ella would be easy, but he didn’t realize he’d have to think before speaking. If he admitted Ella told him, he’d be admitting he’d seen her again, and while he would love to just put it out there, it wasn’t his choice to make. He was letting Ella take the reins on that one.
“You aren’t still seeing Vinny’s grand-daughter, are you?” Joe asked, jaw tightening.
“You knock that off,” Martha said. “Ella is a beautiful young lady, and any man would be lucky if she paid him any mind.”
“She’s a Moretti,” Joe said.
“And I’m tired of this conversation. Lucas, as I said, it’s been a pleasure.” Martha turned back to Joe lip curled. “Can’t say as much for you.” She gave Lucas a wave and headed for the door. “I’ll put some of that soap on the side,” she said before floating through the door, leaving behind a cloud of patchouli.
“She seems really nice,” Lucas said after she left. “I like her.”
