Chapter 5
That evening, Rose opted for an evening walk after closing shop. She started down the street, crossing at the nearest intersection, and headed toward the small park in the middle of town. It was a beautiful night, reminiscent of so many she spent out at her grandparents' farm, now Jak's home.
The sunlight lingered on the distant horizon, lavenders and oranges coexisting in ways only nature could accomplish without seeming gaudy. Rose lifted her face to the breeze and made her way to one of the park benches. Across the street, a New Orlean's style restaurant emitted aroma's of cajun spices and seafood. Her parents ate there often, as it was the spot of their first unofficial date. And Rose enjoyed its atmosphere from time to time, though her favorite dine-out was the small mom and pop joint next to the antique's store where the best burgers in town were served.
Rose contemplated between the two restaurants as she relaxed. Eating alone was not an unfamiliar experience for her, and yet, she did not wish to be around other people tonight...strangers, rather. Mr. Shaw loved the seafood crepes across the street...and the smothered hashbrowns at the old diner. Her stomach growled restlessly as it caught the delicious smells in the air, and she sighed.
Hashbrowns will never taste the same...
"Rose?"
Blinking in surprise, she turned to the voice calling her. It was Mr. Fuller. Dang it. Rose sat upright and waited for his fast approach. "Fancy seeing you before tomorrow," he said, smiling down at her.
"I can't imagine that you would stalk me, Mr. Fuller," she said.
He stuffed his hands into his pants pockets. "I happen to be heading to dinner. I hear that place is pretty good." He nudged his head across the street. "You ever eat there?"
"Occasionally," she answered.
"So? Any good?"
"Lots of people like it."
"But not you," he said and made himself comfortable on the bench beside her. She immediately tensed. She didn't think she would ever feel easy about how complaisant it was for him to sit next to her all the time. Scooting over an inch, Rose hoped her action seemed more like a polite invitation, rather than a covert attempt to distance herself.
"Not a big fan of seafood," she said, shrugging as she scooted. "Tuna is about as fishy as I get."
"I'm sure they have more than just fish," he replied, glancing at the increasing gap between their hips.
Rose turned to face him. "Is this civil chitchat really necessary, or are you wishing to torture me?"
He leaned back and rested his arm along the back of the bench. Rose shifted to avoid more contact. No sense giving him the wrong impression, after all. "You're a straightforward kind of woman, aren't you?"
"If you were hoping for a giddy, nonsensical girl or a dramatic femme fatale, then I'm not sorry for disappointing you, Mr. Fuller," she said.
"I am far from disappointed, Miss Kirkland," he said, leaning forward slightly. Rose swallowed to keep her breath from hitching. He had the most alarming grin on his face, and she couldn't imagine what it meant. She couldn't stop staring at his grin, either. Straight, white teeth flashed at her. Unnaturally straight and white. No one was born with teeth like that...were they? Rose, herself, had a healthy smile, but she also had pointy cuspids that she never liked.
Stop staring at his teeth...
So, she looked into his brown eyes instead. Bad idea. How could simple brown eyes be that overpowering? It wasn't fair...
Rose stood up. "If you'll excuse me—"
"Do you have a boyfriend, Rose?" He rose to his feet, as well.
"I'm sorry?" she asked, gawking at him in the dimming light.
"A fiancé, maybe?" he inquired further. "Or a significant other of some sort?"
Rose gave him a severe frown. "I may regret this, but why are you asking?"
"Because I wondered if I might offend someone other than yourself if I asked you to join me for dinner," he answered easily.
"Dinner?" she said in a shamefully squeaky voice.
"Yes, dinner. Usually the last meal of the day, unless you prefer to call it supper...or have you eaten already?" he said, though he did not sound discouraged, and of course, her stomach chose that moment to growl ravenously. Cole smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "Would you like to accompany me to dinner, Rose?"
Warmth flooded in her cheeks. The last time a man asked her to have dinner was... Oh, lord, a year ago? And if her memory was accurate, she recalled declining that invitation. Rose licked her lips. "Mr. Fuller—"
"Ah," he said before she could continue, "I recognize that tone of voice." He put his hands back in his pockets. "You would not be the first, nor the last, beautiful lady to turn me down, so I will wish you a good-night, Rose."
Instant guilt clenched tightly inside her. "Mr. Fuller, please, let me finish," she said. "I appreciate the offer, but I must admit that I am unsure as to your intention."
He let out a small chuckle. "Are you an avid reader, Rose?"
His frequent changes in subject left her mind reeling, and she made a disgruntled flapping of her hands. "Mr. Fuller, please. What does that have to do with asking me to dinner?"
"Absolutely nothing," he said. "Although it would make our evening's conversation more enjoyable."
"You thrill in unhinging me, don't you?"
"Just a little bit," he admitted. "Just as much as I enjoy the way you unhinge me, Rose."
"Mr. Fuller," she began again, feeling that specific heat in her cheeks. "This is what I mean. Your intention. I have seen too many of your characters to know what you truly want from me."
"My characters?" he inquired.
"Yes, compassion at the funeral," she answered. "Impatience at the store, deception at the piano, and mockery since then."
He arched an eyebrow. "Mockery?"
Rose sighed. "Not so much mocking as...roguish."
And he laughed. "Roguish...your description of my honesty has a more enigmatic sound than just plain flirting."
"Is that your intention? To flirt?"
"Have I been doing it wrong?"
"I cannot say," she admitted.
Now his smile seemed relaxed and amiable. "I think I understand, Rose. But my intention is to eat dinner tonight, and preferably not alone," he replied. "You happen to be the only person I know in this town, Rose, and since I think you are an intelligent, talented woman with a quick wit, I had hoped that you would save me from a lonesome, boring evening."
Promptly subdued, Rose pressed her palms to her stomach with indecision. "Well, Mr. Fuller, I had thought to grab a bite on my way home," she said. "I suppose we could...have dinner together, but only if you promise to not discuss selling the store...or attempt to flirt again."
Cole inclined his head. "It's a deal, Rose. Shall we?" He offered her his arm, and Rose hesitated before accepting it. He guided her toward the restaurant across the street. She drew up just short of the sidewalk.
"Actually, Mr. Fuller," she said softly. "Do you mind going to another place? It's not far from here."
"Within walking distance?"
"A couple of blocks," she said. "Next door to the store."
"A couple more blocks with you on my arm?" he said. "I don't mind at all."
Rose was certain she would have a permanent stain on her cheeks by the end of the night. "Mr. Fuller, please," she begged softly.
"I am sorry, Rose. And I wish you would call me Cole," he said. She decided not to respond to that and turned him in the direction of her favorite diner. A quiet walk in the summer evening should have calmed her fluttering heart, but the man with her had a silentious habit of unsettling her. Men flirted; that's what they did, but this man verbally cavorted in a manner similar to Mr. Shaw. The two were alike in some ways, and yet, Mr. Shaw never had the habit of irritating her so well.
The diner sat in the middle of her block, connecting Shaw's Antiques with other old town shops along the street. Its two, large glass windows flanked the front door, and an ancient bell jingled when they entered. Momma Babs looked up at her newest customers and broke out into a cry.
"Rose! Oh, darling! Come in, come in." Barbara Sims owned and operated the diner with her husband and four children. It had been her parents' restaurant before hers, and a shoe store before that. The regulars called her Momma, even Mr. Shaw, for she was a dear, sweet woman who loved and took care of everyone.
"Hello, Momma," Rose said when the older woman crushed her in a giant hug.
"I didn't expect to see you so soon," Momma Babs said. "You dear, poor child...how are you?"
"I am fine," Rose said by rote. She turned to the man beside her. "This is Cole Fuller, Mr. Shaw's great-nephew."
Momma Babs wiped her eyes, said, "Oh, you poor child! Come here!" and wrapped Mr. Fuller in one of her hugs. Mr. Fuller grunted and his eyes nearly popped out of his head. Rose empathized. He fell back from the embrace with a jolt and laughed.
"It's a pleasure to meet you...Momma, is it?"
Momma Babs said, "That's me...I'm Momma to everyone around here, and now to you, too, dear boy. Come...come, I saved your favorite booth, Rose. I won't let anyone use it until you came back to us. Even yesterday. Bingo night, you know. Full to the rafters, we were, but nope, I didn't let anyone sit there. Here you go, darling...coffee?"
As Momma Babs rambled, she led Rose and Mr. Fuller over to the booth and table nearest the front left window, where a small stage was set up with the Bingo basket and propped keyboard for a semi-live band. This had been Mr. Shaw's preferred table...close enough to the front door to see and greet everyone who walked in, and still secluded enough away from the rest of tables to get a semblance of privacy when he wanted it.
"Yes, thank you, Momma," Rose replied to the coffee request. She slid into the seat facing the front, and settled in the middle, allowing no room for Mr. Fuller to join her on that side. He sat across from her and looked around.
"Now this is a true diner," he commented. "Family owned and locally loved, if the art on the walls are anything to go by."
Rose stared up at the prints above their booth. "Yes...local artists. Mostly from the colleges or the high-schoolers. They're all for sale—"
"Except this one," Momma Babs interrupted with a smile. She set a framed sketch down on the table between them. "My little Jennie did this one."
Rose leaned to examine the color-pencil drawing. It was replicated from a photograph taken by Momma Babs last Valentine's Day, of Rose and Mr. Shaw sitting in this very booth, drinking milkshakes from straws. Very Norman Rockwell in style.
"Momma, it's wonderful," Rose said.
"And it goes right here," Momma said, leaning over the length of the table to hang the picture on a nail. Mr. Fuller rose up halfway out of his seat to study the picture. His mouth frowned, but Rose noticed that his eyes scanned every line of the drawing.
"This is amazing," he said, lightly touching the bottom corner of the picture. "It looks so real."
"Yes," Momma breathed out with pride. "Jennie's been drawing since she could hold crayons."
"Jennie is her oldest granddaughter," Rose offered. "She's ten."
Cole's eyes whipped to Rose. "You're kidding."
"I wish I was," Rose said with a laugh. "Jennie is also one of my piano students. She mastered her scales in only a few months."
"Jennie masters everything she accomplishes," Momma said. "Luckily for us, she never gets bored with any of it...yet."
Rose smiled at Momma. "Yet."
Mr. Fuller sat back down in his seat. "You didn't mention that you taught piano," he said to Rose.
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me, Mr. Fuller," she said, keeping her voice level for the sake of Momma, who would get upset if she heard one of her "kids" fussing. But Momma patted Rose on the shoulder.
"Rose, here, is a natural at teaching," she told Mr. Fuller. "She has a waiting list for students. My Jennie would have started lessons a whole year earlier, if Rose had more time slots available. I keep suggesting that she open up her own school, but she would never leave old Mr. Shaw—oh, dear...he's really gone, isn't he?"
Rose stood up and gave the sobbing Momma a hug. "It's okay, Momma," she soothed. "We all knew he'd have to go home at some point."
"I know, sweetie, I know," Momma said, wiping her eyes. "It's still sinking in, you know. That man has been sitting in this booth twice a week since my mom and dad opened up shop. It's going to be strange not seeing him around, not hearing his grumping during Bingo night. It was awful, last night, just awful...every time someone yelled out Bingo, I kept looking over here, expecting to see that sullen pout of his... Just heartbreaking." She took some calming breaths and smiled. "Okay...I'm good now. What can I get you two to eat?"
"I'll have my usual," Rose said and lowered into her seat. Mr. Fuller's eyes stayed on her, studying her with a profoundness that darkened his eyes. "Mr. Fuller?"
He cleared his throat and said, "I'll have the same, whatever it is."
Momma walked back to place their orders, and Rose focused on not meeting the gaze of the man across from her. He leaned his elbows on the table top, moving closer to her, and she pressed back into the cushioned seat. He stared at her...and stared at her, and Rose straightened the sugar packets and rotated the ketchup bottle around so that the label faced forward, and he smiled slowly.
"I like you, Rose," he said out of the blue.
Rose jerked her eyes to his face. "Thank you."
"Do you like me?"
She swallowed quickly and hoped her cheeks weren't too pink. "I'm afraid I don't have any opinion of you, Mr. Fuller."
He laughed. "And that's why I like you," he said.
She didn't know what he meant by that, or really how to reply, so she slowly repeated, "Thank you."
"I guess it's a good thing that I do like you," he went on, "since I'll be in town for a while."
"Will you?"
He nodded. "I went over to my uncle's house today, just looking around, and you know what I saw?"
Rose felt a small smile working across her mouth. "I am certain you will tell me."
"I saw a nice, neat, tidy place—a surprise really, after what I've been told about Uncle Shaw. I believe he was a bit of a hoarder?"
"Yes...in a way," Rose said. "Mr. Shaw saw the value in most things."
"And then I opened the bedrooms."
Rose just barely managed to contain her laugh. "I am sorry, Mr. Fuller. I should have warned you, but I didn't have time to organize anything. It took me an entire day just to clean out the main rooms."
A waitress dropped off their coffee, and Rose dug out four sugars and four creamer packets. Mr. Fuller eyed how she doctored her coffee and sipped from his cup, nothing added. "Got a sweet tooth?" he asked.
She shook the sugar packs before ripping them open. "Mr. Shaw said I made mud in my coffee. He drank his like you...swarthy."
"Swarthy?"
She shrugged. "His word, not mine."
"Swarthy," he repeated, watching her mix her coffee. "I like that. I'm swarthy."
Rose choked on her first sip. He grinned. "Are you okay?" he asked.
"Fine," she croaked out, waving at him and grasping for a napkin to wipe her mouth. "So...Mr. Shaw's house...What will you do with it?"
"I need to get it cleaned out first," he said.
"You're moving in? When?"
"I'm not," he said. "It leans, remember?"
"Yes," she said with a sigh. "It does. If you are not moving in, what are your plans for it?"
"Mr. St. Mary mentioned that one of the universities is interested in the land," he stated. "And I could use the money."
Rose frowned at him. "Yes, money. I think you implied that last night...when you broke into my store."
"Our store," he corrected. "And the door was unlocked."
"The store was not open, Mr. Fuller," she argued. "You came inside without permission."
"I need permission to enter a store I half-own?"
"You do not own any part of it yet," she stated.
He leaned over the table. "Neither do you."
Rose licked her lips. Dang, he had a point. She rotated her coffee mug around so that the handle faced her. And she glanced across the restaurant, so that she did not have to see his smug look.
"Since I think I'll be around for a few months, at least," he said next, "I wonder if you know of any place that might be for lease? Most of the available places around here are rent houses tailored to college students or income-controlled complexes."
Momma Babs dropped off their food order. Rose always got her food quick. She didn't know why, but Momma made sure it was fixed up as fast as possible. "You looking for a place to stay, sweetie?" she asked Mr. Fuller, scooting plates of grilled cheese sandwiches and smothered hashbrowns across the table. "What about that apartment next to yours, Rose? It's still vacant, right?"
Rose's jaw popped open, but she wasn't able to get any sound out. Mr. Fuller turned his brown eyes from Momma Babs to Rose, and his mouth quirked up in the corner. Rose managed to smile at Momma. "Thank you, Momma...this looks great."
Momma Babs patted both their cheeks and walked back to the kitchen. Mr. Fuller said, "An empty apartment near you? Care to expand on that?"
"Not really," Rose said hesitantly. "It is vacant, but..."
"But?" Mr. Fuller asked.
"But...but the wiring and appliances are all so old," she said, quickly getting ideas. "No one has stayed there in over a year, and...and it's a really small apartment, smaller than mine, and mine is practically a shoebox."
"Where is this shoebox?"
Rose sighed. It was pointless. He was going to find out sooner or later. "It's above the store. The second story. There are three apartments up there, actually, but only two are liveable. Mine, and..."
"And the empty one," he said. "Rent?"
"Five hundred a month," she said.
He raised his eyebrows. "If it's such a small apartment, then why so much? This isn't Houston, last time I checked."
"The water, electricity and gas are included in the rent," she explained. "But seriously, Mr. Fuller...it's really small. That's why we—I mean, I haven't been able to keep tenants for very long. Plus with the noise of the downtown area, and the train tracks so close, and..."
He picked up his fork and dug into his hashbrowns, letting her ramble. He ate while she attempted to explain everything wrong with the apartment, from the occasional leak in the roof, to the way the pipe tend to rattle ominously when both apartments run water at the same time, and that the previous tenant was an art student and painted the main wall with a horrific depiction of killer monkeys.
"So...it's empty?" he asked when she finished. "And available?"
Rose stared at him, defeated. "Yes, Mr. Fuller. It is empty and available."
"Can I see it tonight, when we finish dinner?"
"I suppose so." She picked up her sandwich and ate...as slowly as possible, delaying the inevitable. After Mr. Fuller paid their check and Rose left the tip, of which she insisted, they walked next door. Rose went inside through the front door, and Mr. Fuller asked, "Is there an outside entrance to the apartments?"
"At the back of the building," she said. "There's a hallway that leads to the stairs and this store." She showed him the way, locking the front, unlocking the back, locking that, and heading toward another outside door. "There's private parking out there, too." She opened a panel next to the back door and flipped a switch. "The spare apartment stays turned off to save on the electric bill," she explained, and headed up a set of narrow stairs.
There were four doors at the top landing. She pointed at three of them. "That one goes to the roof. That one is the unfinished apartment, and this one is the available one." She fished out her keys again and unlocked that door.
Mr. Fuller paused in the doorway, staring at the fourth door. "Yes, that one is mine," she said, clearly stating with her tone that he wasn't welcome in her home. Rose walked into the small apartment, shaking her head at the snarling monkeys on the wall and turned to face the man behind her. "Well...here it is."
Mr. Fuller came into the main room, put his hands on his hips and studied the mural. He smirked. "Well, I'll be damned...killer monkeys. Must have been a very troubled art student."
Rose clasped her hands behind her back. "She teaches at the high school now."
He whistled. "Poor kids. Do their parents know what kind of teacher they have?"
"It was just a stage. Mrs. Roberts is a wonderful teacher," she said. She swung around. "This is the living room, and the dining room, and the bedroom. The kitchen, if you can call it that, is over there, and the bathroom, too. The windows have a great view of the back parking lot, the alley and the wonderful brick wall of the building beyond."
Mr. Fuller scanned the main room. "It's actually not that bad. Some new paint and a good cleaning...I think it will do nicely. Internet?"
Rose nodded at a spatter of monkey blood near the bottom of the wall. "A cable runs through there. You'll need to have it turned on yourself, and it isn't included in the rent."
He smiled. "When can I move in?"
Defeated, Rose unhooked two keys from her ring. "Whenever you wish, Mr. Fuller."
"I have one," he said, stopping her from handing over the keys. "At least, I think I do." He retrieved a keyring from his pocket. "One of these?"
Rose frowned as she looked at the ring. "Yes, those there. Where did you get them?"
"Mr. St. Mary loaned them to me," he answered. "Until everything is finalized. I'm going back to Houston the day after tomorrow, but I should be back by next weekend. Will that be okay?"
"Do I have a choice?"
He tilted his head to the side as his eyes brushed her face. "Of course, you do," he said softly. "If you don't want me here, Rose... I know you don't like me."
Rose inhaled a slow, even breath. "I don't like change, Mr. Fuller," she replied quietly. "You knew that from the moment we met. But change cannot be avoided. It makes perfect sense for you to move in here. You'll only be here for a few months, right?"
He stood silent for a moment. "Right. A few months." He glanced back at the monkeys. "I don't suppose my landlady can have that painted before I move in?"
Rose, glad that the serious nature of his behavior had disappeared, said, "Sure. White okay?"
"White would be perfect," he said and shuffled to the door. "Thanks for the tour, Rose. I'll see you next weekend."
Then he left, his footsteps echoing down the stairs, and the sound of the back door opening and shutting declared he finally left the building. Rose turned off the lights, locked up the apartment and went into her own. Jeepers greeted her. "Well, baby," Rose said, carefully picking up her cat, "it looks like we're getting a neighbor."
Jeepers meowed and nipped at her hand. Rose sighed and scratched behind her ears. "I know, baby...I know. I don't like it either."