He tried not to smile at the vision of her under a sink with a wrench. “Granny was insistent that you help me pick out the carpet. I guess she doesn’t trust my judgment.”
“We’ve looked at samples before, so she knows I have an idea of what she likes.”
“I called and tried to arrange a day for Arnie’s Carpets to come. They weren’t very helpful. Didn’t have anything open until two weeks out. As it is, I’m afraid I’ll be here a week.”
He thought Lindsay grinned, but then she turned toward the car window as she spoke. “I imagine Molly made the appointment. She might be able to work you in sooner if I’m with you today.”
“No favors for outsiders, huh?”
“You know small towns.”
Boy, did he. That was the reason he’d stayed in Boston. “I told Granny I’d rather call someone in Athens, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She’ll only do business here in town. Said Arnie has done her carpet for thirty years.”
“Your Granny is definitely loyal.” She pointed. “There it is. Pull in the parking lot on the left.”
They parked, then walked in the store. A little bell jingled to announce their presence.
“I’ll be right with you,” called the voice he’d heard earlier on the phone.
“Why don’t you let me talk to Molly. She’s in my quilting group,” Lindsay said.
He didn’t want her thinking he was still a helpless nerd. “I can do this on my own, Lindsay.”
She shook her head.
“But thanks, anyway.”
She held her hand out as if offering him the store. “Fine. Do it your way.” She meandered to nearby sample books and started to flip through one.
A moment later, an attractive young woman came from the back. “Hi. Can I help you?”
“My name’s Bill Wellington. I called earlier.”
“The man from over in Windy Hollow?”
“No, I’m from Boston.”
“Boston, Georgia? Is there such a place?”
“No, ma’am. Boston, Massachusetts.”
“Ah,” she said as if solving a mystery. “You didn’t mention that earlier.”
“I’m here to pick out some carpet for my grandmother. We scheduled an appointment for a couple of weeks out, but I was hoping we could get it installed sooner.”
Her face screwed up as if she was confused. “So it’s for your grandmother?”
“Yes. She lives here in Magnolia. On Main Street. Her name is Bea Wellington.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so sooner? Arnie can probably get out there late next week for her.”
“Thank you.” But it grated on him that an outsider could have such a hard time getting service.
She pointed to the showroom. “Take a look and let me know if you have any questions.”
A few minutes later, as he and Lindsay searched the many books, Molly reappeared. “Oh, hi, Lindsay. When did you get here?”
“I came in with Bill. We’re old friends.”
“Hey, I saw you dropping off Hunter and Chase the other morning. They’ve grown so much and look so much like their daddy—all handsome and cute.” She practically twittered.
It appeared she was very interested in Lindsay’s brother.
“Yes, they’re sweet boys. And they’re like my own now.”
Molly’s smile dimmed a bit. He detected some animosity, at least from Lindsay’s side.
“I think I’ve found some carpet that will work nicely.” He pointed to a commercial grade, low-pile carpet in a neutral color. “It’s inexpensive since we’ll be selling Granny’s house.”
Molly gasped. “She’s selling her house? No way.”
“No way is right,” Lindsay said. “She’ll sell someday, of course. But I’d rather her buy something nice for now. Something she can enjoy in her old age.” She glared a final warning at him as she flipped open a sample book and pointed to a plush carpet in a pale shade of green—Granny’s favorite color.
“Fine. We’ll compromise. Molly, we’ll have the plush carpet but in a neutral beige color that will sell well.” He pointed to a color in Lindsay’s book called Wheat.
For a second, he thought he saw tears in Lindsay’s eyes. But it had to have been the lighting, because the next time she glared at him, they were gone.
Molly looked from him, to Lindsay, then back to him. Apparently, she decided he was the decision maker in the situation, because she wrote up the order. He checked to make sure she’d written Wheat instead of Thicket. She had. But she didn’t look comfortable doing it.
“Okay. We have you set for next Thursday for the carpet installation. Someone will be out to measure on Monday.”
“Thank you,” he said.
The clerk looked to Lindsay. “I’m sorry about the green, Lindsay.”
“It’s not your fault, Molly.” She walked out the door of the store.
He found her outside in his rental car. He opened his mouth and nearly said he was sorry, but then forced it shut. He felt awful, though.
He really did need to get over the guilt of leaving Lindsay so long ago. He couldn’t allow it to color his decisions.
No, he wouldn’t apologize. She had no right to keep interfering. Granny was his family, after all.
As he turned the car toward Donna Rae’s house, he remembered Granny’s orders. He sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Granny gave me strict instructions to take you out for lunch.”
“No, thanks. I have leftovers at home.”
“She’ll fuss at me.”
“She would, wouldn’t she?” She laughed. “Well, why don’t we stop and pick up something from Minnie’s to take home for all of us to eat.”
“Minnie’s still in business?” Minnie’s Meat and Three. It had become his favorite restaurant once he hit a growth spurt in eighth grade and couldn’t ever seem to eat enough. The growth spurt continued all the way through high school.
“She’s still open. I’m sure she’d love to see you.”
He hadn’t had Minnie’s fried chicken in fifteen years. And he’d like to see her, too. “Good idea. My mouth’s watering just thinking about the chicken.”
As they walked in the restaurant, there was a perceptible hush, a lull in the conversation.
Lindsay realized that most people, even if they knew who he was, wouldn’t recognize him. Some wouldn’t even remember him.
He was so smart and good-looking. She couldn’t help but wonder why he’d never married. Maybe he’d never found someone to share his passion for physics. He’d loved the subject from the time he was old enough to read—in kindergarten, according to Granny Bea. When he’d moved to town the summer after fourth grade, Lindsay often found him outside, perched in the mimosa tree, reading thick nonfiction books about atomic particles that he’d checked out from the library.
He touched her elbow and guided her to a table, acting as if they weren’t the center of attention. She was afraid