A Long and Lonely Mile

Chapter 8

By the time the clocktower chimed in the eight o'clock hour, Tavington was as ready for his interview as he would ever be. He was still incredibly fond of Henry's blue flannel and selected a handful of outfits that were similar in style along with a handsome blazer made of dark, thick material for the colder days ahead. The flirtatious young thrift store clerk ensured him that a solid black button down and yet another pair of darkened jeans would be sufficient attire for his impending interview. According to her, he could step into any shop on the street in sweatpants and be hired on the spot. He hardly knew what that meant, but thanked her for her encouragement nevertheless.

He felt confident during his brisk walk to the café, but found that his confidence was deflated tenfold when he met Tess. She was a friendly enough woman. Clothed in a cherry print frock with a pristine hairdo of box-dye black victory rolls, she was certainly an oddity even when placed against everyone Tavington had met in 2017 thus far. Tess seemed delighted to hear that he was courting Marigold (compliments of Giselle's big mouth, of course). But there was something about her, her mannerisms and intonations, the places in her speech where she inserted certain pauses and above all, her terrifyingly familiar eyes that made Tavington feel as though he was speaking to a ghost.

"I must admit, Mr. Thompson, when Giselle told me that you'd be a good candidate for a dishwasher, I thought you'd be a teenybopper. Or at least a college kid! Mare was never one to be a cradle robber. You must be, what? 30-something?" She leaned back in her office chair, chomping on the eraser at the end of a yellow #2 pencil. This unusual tick had become a frequent occurrence throughout their conversation.

"It's Tavington, Ma'am. 37. Does it really matter?"

"Tavington, you say?" The chomping commenced. "Well, that's a misfortune. Did you know that my great, great, great, great..." yet another chomp, "great... whatever... grandpa shish-kebab'd the crap out of a fella named Tavington during the American Revolution? Pretty rad, huh?"

He narrowed his eyes, contemplating which remark to respond to first. He'd silently suffered defeat over and over again after wagering that America had gained its independence after all. Still hearing the name, "American Revolution" struck a personal chord with him. Especially when paired with such a crude recount of his defeat. This had to be some sort of a cruel trial. God's own wicked experiment in which he would test Tavington's devotion to Marigold. He breathed deeply.

"You must be a Martin." A borderline wicked, sideways smirk slipped out. He cursed himself instantly. How could he be so tactless?

To his complete surprise, Tess threw her pencil on the floor and started to clap her hands in amusement and delight. "Well, what a shocker those fellas would have if they could see us now! Engaged in a civilized conversation! You're probably going to think that I'm some sort of a nerd, but you'll find that all of Waterford is obsessed with local history. Henry. Marigold's Henry-"

"Oh, no," Tavington thought to himself, "not another talker..."

"He was a British fella just like you! He was so interested in the area that he relocated, too! You know you look just like him?! Old Tavington, that is. Not Henry. Between you, me, and the hat rack, my kitchen is a cornucopia of pointy objects, so no funny business or history will have to repeat itself." She reclined and, you guessed it, plucked another pencil from her cluttered desk. "Don't give me that vacant expression, Billy! Smile! I'll see you tomorrow at opening. Bright and early!"

He should have been pleased with himself, but so much about Tess had made his blood boil already. He used this opportunity to put to the test another little trick that he'd learned from Marigold- focusing on the good instead of the bad. For one, it made perfect sense that Tess would be friendly with his Marigold. Giselle, too. By all means, the three of them shared a talent for masking just about anything with the nonsensical.