“What about him, Maple?” another woman says. “He’d fit the part better than Asher Martin ever would have.”
“Oh, no, Filson would never agree,” she says. “We’ll figure something out.”
As we walk to the back of the house, I find myself frowning. “What was that about?” I ask once we’re inside the cozy kitchen.
“Nothing,” Maple says. “You’re already doing enough.” She reaches for a pad of paper on the kitchen table — the very one we sat at as little kids, drinking milk and tea, dunking our cookies and laughing. “This is the list of things I need to have done to the house.”
“Look,” I say, ignoring the list. “I volunteered,” I remind her. “I want to be here.”
She snaps her eyes to mine. “Do you?”
“Of course I do.”
“You couldn’t seem to leave fast enough the other night.”
“My dog needed dinner, Maple.”
“Or the night before,” she presses.
“If I remember correctly, it was you who bolted for the shower, not me.”
“I only did that because you seemed to regret what we shared.”
Her words cut through the kitchen and we’re both left speechless. How does one say everything at once without scaring someone away?
“I don’t regret anything we shared. I only regret pulling back as I did. You deserve better, Maple.”
She studies me for a long moment. “Filson, why did you drop out of high school?”
My eyes widen. “Wasn’t expecting that question.”
“My Granny had her speculations. That your dad was too drunk to go to the construction sites and that you picked up his tool belt to pay the bills.”
I run a hand over my beard. “Sounds about right.”
“But why didn’t you ask for help? Why didn’t you—”
“You really want to do this, Maple? I know I messed up a hundred times. Do you just want to keep driving that point home?”
She isn’t hurt. She’s angry. “I’m not driving anything anywhere, Filson. I’m trying to understand why it’s so hard for you to let anyone in. To let me in.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
“I’ve missed you. For ten years I’ve missed you. You left school and left me behind.”
“We were hardly two peas in a pod, Maple. You had your cheerleading friends and the jocks who wanted to carry your books. I had a rusted-out Chevy and failing grades. You did fine without me.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t get it, do you? I didn’t want any of them, Filson. I just wanted you.”
“I’m not that same boy anymore, Maple.”
She steps toward me, eyes ablaze and full of yearning. “I know. Now you’re a man. So, let me ask you this, Filson Barre, what do you want now?”
“You,” I tell her plainly. Her eyes sparkle with hope and pride blossoms in my chest — I made her feel good and that is the kind of feeling I’d love to bottle up, to keep in a flask in my jacket pocket so I’d always have it on the ready. “But I don’t want it to be like the other night.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”
“I want to give us a real chance, Maple St. Claire. That means we go slow. One date at a time.”
“You’re asking me on a date?” Her cheeks turn pink and she breaks into a smile.
“I am. Tonight, you and me. Let’s try and do this for real.”
“Okay. The sounds really nice.”
“I know you think I’m a grinch but let me try to be a gentleman.”’
She hands me the notepad. “Then I guess we should both get to work.”
“Why are you doing all this work this time of year? It’s not exactly conducive to cleaning out the gutters.”
“I know. Most of everything is indoors.” She points to the list in her hand. Leaky faucet, recaulking a shower, pantry doorknob needs to be replaced.
“This won’t take me long.”
“Good,” she says, exhaling. “The sooner the better.”
“Why are you so intent on fixing the house up? Aren’t the holidays a busy enough time already?”
She just grabs her purse and coat. “I’m not asking you why Asher Martin was at your house and you don’t need to ask me about this, okay?”
“Fine,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. To be honest, I don’t care what her motivation is because it’s giving me an excuse to get close to her. “But you better be here at six for our date.”
“Bossy, are we?” She smirks as she cinches her pink coat across her waist.
“You like bossy?”
She licks her lips. “I like you.”
With that, she turns away and heads out the back door. Leaving my cock twitching and my hope soaring. I might just get the girl.
Maple
When I get back from the soup kitchen, it's after six o'clock. I had a heck of a time with Foodsellers, Inc., promising them I'd send payment as soon as I could, but it was a rough blow to learn that they weren't going to be delivering any more food. That meant me going back to my books and trying to see if I'd have enough cash to get us through the rest of the month.
I promised Foodsellers, Inc., that I'd have their payment come January. I’ll sell the house come hell or high water. Just as soon as Filson checks the boxes off the to-do list. Sounded like it wouldn't take him long and if we could get a buyer and by we, I mean if I could get a buyer, that might mean the house could sell even sooner than I anticipated.
Shame burns in my heart as I walk home, hating the state of my financial affairs, wishing I hadn't taken so much on and had come clean with the bank sooner. Asked for a loan, figured out something.
There are churches in town and organizations that help feed the homeless, but all of the money seems to be going beyond the reaches of Snowy Valley, and the truth is it's not just the homeless population that needs help and a little tender loving care. There are veterans and single parents, victims of domestic violence. and the families who are just a few months behind on rent They all could use extra assistance that the city doesn't offer.
My granny's mission was never to take on all the social justice issues in the town, but she did think if she put in a few long farm tables with a few benches in a low rent building and served soup to those who need it, that maybe, just maybe, someone wouldn't go hungry.
I don't know how Granny did it for so long, except she had a big, generous heart and always gave more than she had. Quite literally. She gave everything to run the soup kitchen and it is her legacy. It’s what propels me now to make the best of the situation.
Still, a little financial guidance could've gone a long way for my granny and for me too, and if I ever am in a position where I'm going to run my own business in the future, I am definitely going to get an accountant.
All of this is weighing heavily on my mind as I walk home. The sky is clear and there is no snow falling but the air is cold and brisk. I walk quickly wanting to get into the warmth of my own home. When I see the house on Jingle Bell Lane, I smile, taking a minute to remember how much I have to be grateful for because even if I'm going to say goodbye to this house at the end of the month, I still have so many memories here. And more memories are being made every day.