She also needed guidance.
Too bad Zach wasn’t here so she could pick his brain.
But he had enough problems of his own in Atlanta.
More prayer could help—though her diligent pleas for guidance had yet to produce answers.
So how was she supposed to figure out what to do before her time ran out and Simon showed up on her doorstep again, brandishing a contract that could change her life forever if she signed on the dotted line?
22
He was as nervous as he’d been back in tenth grade on his very first date, with Mary Lou Wheeler.
And the feeling wasn’t fun.
Too jittery to sit still while the gas station attendant filled his tank, Frank slid out from behind the wheel as a silver Thunderbird with a white top pulled in on the opposite side of the pumps.
“Afternoon.” Charley called out the greeting through the open window as he set his brake and killed the engine.
“Afternoon to you too. You aren’t cooking today?”
“Lunch crowd’s thinned.” Charley opened the door, got out, and strolled over while he waited his turn for service. “I think I’ll paint on this beautiful afternoon—although an outdoor pursuit would be a delightful alternative. What’s your plan for the rest of the day?”
Frank transferred his weight from one foot to the other and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m driving up to Shore Acres State Park.”
“Ah. A perfect day for a walk through the gardens.” Charley leaned down and peered into the empty passenger seat. “Are you going alone?”
“No.” He could leave it at that—but the response seemed too abrupt in light of Charley’s affable manner. “I, uh, thought I’d give Zach’s aunt a tour of the place. Her being new in town and all.”
“A gracious gesture. I expect she’ll appreciate the company, especially with Zach gone for a few days.”
“Uh-huh.”
Charley leaned back against the hood of the car. “Pleasant woman, Stephanie.”
“Yes, she is.”
“I imagine she has fascinating stories from her travels.”
“Yeah.” With an effort, Frank called up a smile. “Quite a contrast to a lowly mail carrier like me. My most exciting moments involved dogs nipping at my heels.”
“A different kind of excitement, no question about it.” Charley flashed him a grin. “Were you ever bitten?”
“No.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Most dogs are more bark than bite—though they can be intimidating. People can be too—for a host of reasons that don’t involve barking.”
Frank squinted at him.
Could that be a veiled message about Stephanie’s jet-setting past and executive position?
Maybe.
News could have traveled around town that he and Zach’s aunt had spent last Wednesday painting together—and chatting up a storm while sparks pinged around the room. There’d been a ton of volunteers at Hope House that day.
Or was that remark just one of those random philosophical comments Charley liked to throw out?
“I suppose that’s true.” Best to play this nonchalant.
“Count on it. In the end, most of us want to be liked—and defined—by who we are inside rather than by external trappings and stereotypes.” As two seagulls fluttered in and landed at Charley’s feet, he motioned to them. “Have you met Floyd and Gladys?”
Frank regarded the gulls. “You name the birds?”
“Not all of them. These two are old friends. Actually, I’ve known Floyd the longest. I met him a number of years ago, after he lost his wife. Did you know seagulls mate for life?”
“I don’t recall ever hearing that.”
“It’s a fact. And Floyd was in sad straits, let me tell you. Started moping around the stand. Took to pecking at Tracy’s door—that would be Tracy Hunter, from the cranberry farm—looking for company. He was one lonely bird. Then one day, he showed up at my stand with Gladys, happy as a clam.”
Frank inspected the birds, which were cuddled up next to each other—close to Charley but watching him.
“Nice story.” If only it was that easy for humans to move on.
“It’s more than that.” Charley studied the birds. “Instead of letting fear hold them back, Floyd and Gladys took a leap into the unknown—and now neither is lonesome anymore. I’d call them role models.”
Again, Frank scrutinized the man. The remark appeared to be personal—but he’d never talked about his battle with loneliness. And he’d certainly never told anyone about his stomach-churning turmoil over the conflict between his devotion to Jo Ann and his interest in Stephanie.
“Easier for birds to do than humans, though. They don’t have to deal with logistics . . . or loyalties.” Frank sent a sidelong glance toward the attendant. Why on earth was it taking him so long to finish with the gas?
“Logistics can be worked out if the goal is worth the effort—and while loyalty is a fine trait in general, it can be a negative in the wrong context.”
What was that supposed to mean?
“How can loyalty ever be bad?”
“If someone holds on to it as an excuse not to open a new door, once the need for it is gone.” Charley motioned behind him. “I think you’re good to go.”
The attendant joined them and handed over his credit card and receipt. “All done.”
Finally.
This discussion had become too unsettling—and he was already spooked enough about going on his first date in more than four decades.
“Thanks.” He slid the card back into his wallet.
“What’ll it be, Charley?” The attendant adjusted his cap.
“Fill ’er up. Bessie purrs along best on a full tank—like we all do. It’s tough to run on fumes.” Charley pushed off from the hood and tipped his Ducks cap. “Enjoy the gardens, Frank—and give Stephanie my best.”
“I’ll do that.”
The two birds followed the man back to the other side of the pumps.
Frank retook his seat behind the wheel, twisted the key, and put the car in gear. As he pulled out onto 101, he looked in the rearview mirror.
Charley lifted a hand in farewell, as if he knew he was being watched.
But it would be impossible at that distance to detect someone peering at you through a rearview mirror.
Nevertheless, Frank waved out the window—and pressed on the accelerator.
That had been one weird conversation.
Yet as the station and Charley disappeared from view, as he picked up speed toward Zach’s house, where Stephanie was waiting for him, the man’s comments kept looping through his brain.
Nothing Charley said had been specific to his situation—yet it was all applicable.
Being intimidated by external trappings instead of paying attention to what was in people’s hearts.
A grieving seagull who’d found a new love.
The power of fear to hold a person back.
Loyalty as an excuse to maintain the status quo.
The difficulty of running on fumes—be it gas, or a love that existed only in memory.
Frank passed the town limits and increased his speed again.
How could Charley have communicated so much in those few minutes of casual conversation?