Chapter 7

CHAPTER SEVEN

T ully

“Hello, humiliation. We meet again,” I muttered to myself as I took yet another shower the next morning. I thought I’d gotten all the mud out last night, but my pillow this morning informed me I’d grossly underestimated the clinging power of Blueball mud.

I couldn’t tell you how many times Colson Wolfe had walked me back to Mama’s house during my lifetime. Over a thousand? It didn’t escape my notice that last night had been a trip down memory lane, what with the nakedness, the rolling around, and then the walk back to the house with his hand on my back. I could close my eyes and suddenly I was eighteen again, going through the same motions with that man.

Stepping out of the shower and wrapping a towel around myself, I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to keep the humiliation coursing up my spine from dropping me to my knees. Colson had heard I was fired. Then he saw my forty-two-year-old body naked. And not in candlelight with strategic placing of my thigh and sucking in of my gut. He’d seen me spread eagle in the mud. Talk about humiliating.

Mama knocked on the bathroom door, saving me from yet another replay in my head. “Breakfast, honey!”

“Coming!” I hollered back, quickly drying off and sliding into a pair of skinny jeans and a nice blouse that didn’t say “unemployed and living with her mama.”

I walked through the house, headed for the kitchen. Mama wasn’t there, so I veered into the formal dining room just off the kitchen. The wallpaper had seen better days, but I had a feeling Mama wouldn’t take kindly to me commenting on it. Mama sat at the head of the table with a coffee cup from Crazy Beans and her usual banana nut muffin. In front of the chair next to her was another cup from Crazy Beans and two veggie egg white bites.

“What’s this?” I pointed to our breakfast.

Mama took a bite of her muffin, slowly chewing and purposely drawing out her answer. I had a seat and stared at her. Since I’d been back, she hadn’t left the house once. She’d baked up a storm in the kitchen, but no trips into town that I was aware of.

Mama wiped her mouth with a napkin and placed it in her lap. “Colson brings me breakfast most mornings.”

My core muscles gave out and I flopped back in the wood-backed chair. “He what?”

Mama had a little smile on her face that would normally make me happy to see, but right now, I was feeling a bit like the rug was being pulled out from under me. Again.

“He brings me breakfast. Not every day, of course. Sometimes work gets in the way, but he spoils me.” She flicked a finger my direction. “Spoiling you today too. Guess he knows you’re staying with me?”

I folded my arms across my chest, refusing to touch the breakfast, even if the smell of a sugary mocha wafted over to me. Damn him. He knew that was my favorite. Not that I’d had it in awhile. The camera adds at least ten pounds and that meant mochas had been moved to my “never eat” list long ago.

“How come you didn’t tell me Colson lived in the carriage house?”

Mama’s impish grin only grew. “Because I knew you’d pitch a fit and march right out of here again. Can’t blame me for wanting some time with my own daughter, can you?”

I really couldn’t, but that didn’t mean I was happy Mama had purposely kept this important information from me. It was important, right? “Anything else you’ve been hiding?”

Mama took another bite of her muffin and chewed. My stomach growled loudly in the silence. I reminded myself I no longer had to worry about the camera picking up on extra pounds, so I grabbed the mocha, slurping in a huge sip. My eyes slid shut of their own accord and I had a moment.

Mama’s giggle brought me out of my bliss.

“I knew you’d break eventually. Nothing beats Crazy Beans coffee. Or their baked goods.” Mama wiped her mouth again. “Colson’s been helping me out with things for a bit.”

My moment was clearly over. My stomach lurched and the world as I knew it tilted. “What kind of helping? And define a bit .”

“He’s been coming over to trim trees and things for years, but since he moved back to Blueball six months ago, he’s been helping with even more. In fact, he just painted the house last month, and I think he did a spectacular job.”

I nodded, feeling a bit lightheaded. Mama had never told me about Colson. For all I knew, when we got divorced, she only saw him infrequently or in passing. I knew they’d been close and I knew our divorce had hurt her deeply, but knowing they’d stayed close felt like a betrayal. A line in the sand was drawn during a divorce and sides had to be chosen. Had Mama chosen Colson’s side this whole time and I was too busy to notice?

Before I could formulate something to say that would attempt to express the jealousy I was feeling, my phone pinged in my pocket. I fished it out, thinking it might be Jocelyn. I could use a lifeline right now. Maybe a job to get me out of Blueball for a little while? Just until I could absorb everything I was left with after life had whacked me down a peg or twenty?

But it wasn’t my agent. It was my cell phone carrier reminding me my bill was due in two days. I shut off the screen and shoved the phone back in my pocket. I swallowed hard and took stock.

My so-called friends from Hollywood had remained silent. Not one had reached out to see if I was okay since the firing. Jocelyn barely had any jobs for me. My own mother spent more time with my ex-husband than she did me, and I had no one to blame for that except myself.

I felt as low as the mud I’d wallowed in last night.

My gaze shifted to the wall and I stared at it absentmindedly, trying to absorb all the feelings pummeling me at once.

“Whatcha thinking, honey?” Mama asked quietly.

I bit my lip and refused to cry. “I left Blueball and Colson because I wanted to make a splash. Wanted to prove I had something to offer this world. And I did. For fifteen years. And now that’s all been taken away in the blink of an eye and I’m wondering what value I have now.”

Mama reached over and patted my hand. I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t look at her and see disappointment on her face. I had enough of that in my own heart at the moment.

“Worth is in the eyes of the beholder, honey. Your problem is that you always had eyes on you. Even in high school you were the belle of the ball. Cheerleader, prom queen. Always busy, always at the center of the party. You forgot whose eyes really matter.”

I looked at her then, wondering what in the hell she meant and why she couldn’t just dispense her wisdom without me needing to use a cereal box decoder to understand her.

She patted my hand again and stood up. “I’ve got to get to my baking, honey. You can join me if you’d like.”

That was one way in which we were alike. Mama got her thinking done while baking pies. I got mine done while tackling a home improvement project.

“Thanks, but I think I’m going to head into town to meet with Colson about the fundraiser and also swing by the hardware store. Do you mind if I make a mess in here but promise it’ll be pretty by the time I’m done?”

Mama collected her trash from the table and said over her shoulder as she headed for the kitchen, “You have free rein to do anything in this house you want.”

That old familiar trickle of excitement blotted out some of the shame and confusion I’d been feeling this morning. Not that they weren’t still there, but at least I had something positive going for me too. I shoved an egg bite in my mouth and took the rest with me as I searched for my work boots.

Nerves tumbled like butterfly wings in my gut as I pulled into the fire station yet again. All that was for nothing though as the place appeared empty, so I headed to the hardware store, figuring I’d start there and circle back to the fire station later. A little bell rang out over the tired-looking glass door of Doyle Hardware. A middle-aged guy with a weathered baseball cap and a decent-sized beer belly came from around a corner to offer a good morning.

“Can I help you with anything?” he asked. Then his face lit up and he snapped his thick fingers. “Hey, aren’t you Tully Starling?”

The smile was automatic, the one I gave strangers in public when someone recognized me. I held out my hand and he shook it, nearly breaking my fingers in his enthusiasm.

“Nice to meet you. Are you Doyle?” I pointed to the sign outside and extricated my right hand from the handshake as quickly as I could.

“Carl Doyle, at your service,” he said with a mock bow. “I’m honored you’ve come into my shop. I bought this place right after you left, so we never got to meet. What can I do you for today?”

I enjoyed his laid-back personality, compared to some of the slick salesmen and developers I was used to in southern California. “I need to remove some wallpaper, buy paint, and choose some millwork. Can you help me with that?”

He lifted up his hat and scratched his balding head before plopping it back down. “Sure can. Got the wallpaper remover tools and the paint. We’ll have to place an order for the millwork though. Don’t stock that here.”

I nodded. “Great. I have to remove the wallpaper and patch up the wall first anyway, so there’s time for the trim to get here.”

Carl got me loaded up on the spray bottles that held a chemical that helped the wallpaper glue dissolve, then we meandered over to the paint section where I perused the available colors. Looking at swatches felt like slipping back into my old skin in a way that felt good. No cameras. Just me and the paint swatches. And Carl, of course.

He scratched his belly and pointed a cigarette-stained finger at the grayish-blue swatch I held in my hands. “That’s a new color we just got in.”

I nodded, even though I knew this color had been around for over a year by now. Took a little while for things to make their way to Blueball. It was one of the reasons I left here years ago, wanting to see the big world out there. Now, however, Blueball just seemed quaint. Carl followed me around the store, giving me one-on-one help. No horns blared outside at all hours. No hustle to get to the next thing and cursing at traffic from stopping me. It was all just kind of, dare I say, nice .

Once I got the order placed for the millwork I’d need to add a chair rail to the dining room walls and create the paneled wainscoting on the bottom half, I waved goodbye to my new friend, Carl, after he loaded the back of my car with my supplies.

A woman was getting out of her truck and walking toward the store, her blonde hair full of sawdust and a smoking electric sander in her hand. She saw me and nodded hello. I pointed to the sander.

“That one blew up on me three times before I gave up and went with a different brand.”

The woman stopped walking and turned toward me, a hesitant smile on her pretty face. “Tully Starling? Of Flip or Fail ?”

I nodded, reverting to my celebrity smile. “That’s right.”

The woman stuck out her hand and we shook. Her palm was scratchy with sawdust and calluses. “I’m Emmerleigh Slaywright. I’m a contractor here in Blueball.”

Now the smile was genuine. “A female contractor? I love it!”

We just stood there smiling at each other, until Emmerleigh blinked and looked around the parking lot. “This is going to sound strange and I swear I’m asking as a fellow neighbor, not in a way to use you, but would you mind coming to look at one of my projects? I mean, I’d pay you, of course. If I can afford you, that is. But I’m having trouble deciding what to do with this one wall.” She snapped her mouth shut and then laughed. “Sorry. That was a lot. I’m sure you have better things to do.”

My hand shot out, touching her arm. “Actually, I’d love to stop by. As a friend, not a paid thing.”

Emmerleigh’s smile was blinding. “Okay.”

Apparently, outside of Hollywood it was just that easy to make a friend. No favors or ulterior motives or angling to get an in with someone higher up the food chain than you. I slid out my phone. “What’s your number?” She gave it to me and I saved it in my phone. “I’ll text you tonight.”

“Great.” She held up the sander. “And thanks for the tip.”

I opened my car door. “Anytime.” I got behind the steering wheel and blew out a big breath as I watched Emmerleigh walk into the hardware store.

I could keep putting it off with projects galore around Mama’s place, but I didn’t want to be that person who blows people off.

I needed to meet up with Colson.

A fire truck zoomed down Main Street as I waited to pull out of the hardware parking lot. I watched it go, wondering if Colson was on the rig right now. I would never admit it out loud, but there was something enticing about knowing Colson was a firefighter. He’d been talking about becoming one at the end of our marriage. He was tired of his job being the lackey for a local contractor. Colson worked hard and provided for us. That was never the problem in our marriage. His attractiveness was also never a problem in our marriage. It was a problem now though, when I didn’t want to find him hot in his firefighting gear.

I turned onto Main Street and followed the almost comically light traffic to the fire station where I parked and got out before I could talk myself out of it. Flashbacks of last night wouldn’t leave my brain. In all the horror of being naked in front of him, I’d forgotten until this morning that he’d also been nearly naked. The man had filled out in the years since we divorced. And all in the right places.

My heart beat so fast I thought I might pass out on the way to the open bay. Colson’s erection had pressed against me and it wasn’t something I could get out of my mind. He still wanted me. Or maybe he always got excited over a naked woman in the woods. Probably that. Pretty sure I’d burned every bridge when I surprised him with the divorce and walked out of Blueball without a backward glance. He couldn’t possibly want me, not when he probably harbored bad feelings toward me. And rightfully so.

“You look a little peaked, Tully.”

My eyes flew open and I saw Joey bending down to look at me with concern. His hand came up and cupped my elbow, tugging me into the bay.

“Let’s get you seated and I’ll call Colson out.”

I resisted the chair Joey was steering me toward and got a firm grip on my brain. There was no time to be thinking about Colson that way. I’d lost all rights to think about his body when I handed him those divorce papers.

“No, it’s okay. Colson and I were supposed to meet to talk about the fundraiser.”

The door to the fire station banged open and Colson appeared in the doorway, frowning at Joey’s hand on my arm.

“Here we go again,” I muttered under my breath.