“Trip finished the pool for us,” I told Christy when I finished reading.
“He did it for Wren, I’m sure. Oh, don’t look at me like that. I know you want me to say he did it for me, but even if he did, she probably told him to.”
“It was the last thing he did. He literally added it as a postscript, an afterthought.”
“For real?”
“Mmm hmm. Besides, why do it before he left? I mean, if he did it for Wren, she won’t be able to enjoy it till they get here. On the other hand,” I pointed out, “someone else will be able to enjoy it now.”
“Oh, wow. That was really nice of him.”
“Yep.” I gave her another moment to appreciate it. “All right, let’s unpack and make a list of things we need from the store.”
The bungalows didn’t have proper furniture yet, so we’d be sleeping on an air mattress after all. But Trip had found some apple crates to use as nightstands and dressers. Christy hummed happily to herself as she emptied our large suitcase.
My work clothes took up most of the space. I normally brought a few T-shirts and pairs of shorts, but I didn’t fancy the idea of doing construction or demolition with that much skin exposed.
Slashes and gashes and cuts, oh my!
I chuckled at my own wit and said to Christy, “I’m gonna clean out the pool. Then I’ll start the hose running to fill it.”
“Ooh, we can go for a swim tonight.”
“Um… no, probably not.”
“Why not?”
“The pool won’t be full. It’ll take days.”
“Please don’t tease me like that.”
“No, I’m serious. Gimme a sec and I’ll figure out how long.”
“How?” she asked suspiciously.
“Math. It’s easy. Length times width times depth for the volume. Oh, wait. Yeah, I’ll have to do average depth. The rest is easy, though. Multiply by seven point five gallons per cubic foot. Divide by nine gallons per minute for an average garden hose. Finally, divide by sixty. Then twenty-four. For hours and days. Obviously.”
“Obviously,” she said, unamused. “Do you really just know all those numbers? Seven times sixty, point five into nine…? What was the rest?”
“Of course I know ’em,” I laughed. “I have to. It’s my job.”
“Okay, but can you really do all that math in your head?”
“I can if someone stops asking questions.”
She glared.
“Here, I’ll prove it.” I knew the exact dimensions of the pool, but it was shaped like an L, which complicated things. Still, the math simplified nicely. “Seventy-two hundred. Cubic feet,” I added. “Now, multiply by five-sixths.”
“Hold on. You said seven point five. And divide by nine.”
“Ah, so you were paying attention?”
“I’m always paying attention, Paul, dear. I just don’t know what it means.”
“Well, seven point five divided by nine is five-sixths. It simplifies.”
“Uh-huh. If you say so.”
“Math says so. Anyway, seventy-two divides evenly by six, so the rest is easy. A hundred. Hours.”
“What? How long it’ll take to fill? That’s, like, a week!”
“More like four days and four hours, but yeah.”
“Four days and four hours,” she mocked grumpily. “You’re worse than Brooke.”
“Much worse,” I laughed. “But cheer up. If we start now, we can go swimming on Saturday. Evening. At seven twenty. And thirty seconds.”
“Smarty-pants,” she said under her breath.
* * *
We spent the rest of the afternoon in town. We stopped by the hardware store for chlorine and pool supplies. Much to my surprise, Christy knew most of what we needed, and she charmed old Mr. McMasters in the process. He added several things we’d need for a new pool and threw in a booklet that explained the whole process. Afterward, he told us where to go for lawn and garden furniture. Christy worked her magic there too, and the woman gave us a discount on folding lounge chairs.
“You’re going to have the whole town wrapped around your finger by the end of the summer,” I teased Christy as I loaded the chairs.
“End of the summer? I’m hoping for the end of the day.”
“Well, good luck at the liquor store.”
“I don’t need luck,” she boasted. “Smile and be polite, and the world’s your oyster. That’s what my nana says.”
“She’s right about that.”
The dapper old gentleman at the liquor store wasn’t exactly immune to Christy’s charm, but she delicately cleared her throat and nudged me instead.
“Go on,” she whispered. “Smile. Be polite.”
“Excuse me,” I said. “I’m hoping you can help me. I have a list…?”
We started with the liquor, and he quickly pulled bottles from the shelves. Then we moved to the wine. He even suggested a few that were better and cheaper than the ones on our list. Thirty minutes later, Christy and I left with four cases, plus the man’s promise to order anything special if we wanted it.
“That poor man,” Christy said as we pulled out of the parking lot.
“Poor man? He seemed happy enough to me.”
“I’m sure he’s terribly lonely. Can you imagine what it’s like for him? Here? In South Carolina?”
“Why? What’s the matter with him?”
“Nothing, really. Only, he’s gay.”
“Are you serious?”
“Of course. Couldn’t you tell?”
“I just thought he was polite. And a snappy dresser.” I listened to what I’d just said. “Oh, please, that’s such a cliché.”
“Whatever you say, dear.”
We pulled into the parking lot at our final stop, the Winn-Dixie. Christy surprised me when she took over. I’d been grocery shopping with her before, and she’d never been that serious.
“I’ve moved a dozen times since I was five,” she explained. “I can’t plan a menu or feed a family, but I know the basics, like how to restock a kitchen. And we need even more in this case, ’cause Trip didn’t leave anything. I don’t think he even ate there.”
“Why would he?” I said. “He probably ate with Susan. Besides, the kitchen is Wren’s department.”
“You mean a woman’s department,” Christy accused.
“Maybe in Trip’s mind, but not in mine. Then again, you should probably cut him some slack. You’ve seen Wren in the kitchen. She’s the boss. Can you imagine anyone trying to tell her what to do?”
“I know. You’re right.” Christy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t know why I’m getting upset. Trip’s been fine lately. Yeah, he made that dumb crack on your birthday, but he’s been fine since. He even did the pool for us.”
“For you,” I corrected. “He wouldn’t’ve done it if it were only me.”
“Yeah. So… why’m I picking on him?”
“No clue.” I glanced at her sideways and added, “Maybe we can all start fresh when he and Wren get back from Florida.”
“That’s a good idea.”
“I… um… think they’ll both be pretty happy.”
Christy narrowed her eyes. I didn’t think she could read me that easily, but she must’ve seen something in my bland expression.
“Oh my gosh! Are you serious?”
“What? I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to! Is he really going to do it?”
“Do what?” I said evasively.
“Propose! You have to tell me. Please, please!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Paul Dean Hughes, don’t lie to me.”
“Okay,” I relented. “But you have to swear—”
“Paul!”
“Yeah, all right. If I can’t trust you, I can’t trust anyone.”
“Thank you. But you’re stalling.”
“I don’t know how much there is to tell.”
“Where’d he get the ring? What’s it look like? How’s he going to ask? Where? Oh my gosh! There’s a million details, and they’re all important.”