A Regular Joe: A Regular Joe / Mr. Right Under Her Nose

“Pops! For heaven’s sake! Those cards have naked women on them,” she grumbled, offended.

“Sure as hell do,” he said, undaunted. “I asked Herman’s grandson to pick them up for me during his last visit. I plan to give the gang a cheap thrill tonight…and don’t give me that look, Shortcake. Ain’t a man in the Roland Gang who hasn’t seen a naked lady a few times in his life. We’re all World War II veterans. Those island women we came across when we were stationed in the Pacific didn’t wear blouses. And you know what else? A bunch of men in our unit pooled some money to buy them brassieres to preserve their modesty. You know what those women did with the contraptions we gave them?”

“No, what did they do, Pops?” she asked, smiling.

“They used them to haul coconuts two at a time,” he informed her.

Mattie cackled. Her grandfather had always been a source of amusement to her.

Pops tucked the racy cards into the pocket of his trousers, then settled himself more comfortably on the bed. “The point of taking you to see Fred is that his room has only the barest of necessities. The place doesn’t feel like home to him because it doesn’t look like home. There’s nothing on the walls, no memorabilia, no family pictures. Zilch, nada. I had to throw a tantrum to get permission to hang your artwork and the shelves in here. I shouldn’t have had to do that. We’re paying hard-earned money for room, board and medical care. Yet, this chicken coop looks like a halfway house for criminal offenders. This place needs your touch of interior decoration to provide some stimulation and aesthetic beauty. If every patient demanded the right to personalize their living quarters we could get some results. That’s my next crusade.”

Mattie cringed at the thought of another crusade for the Roland Gang. Rebel that Bernard Roland had become, he refused to give up until he’d paved the way for improvements. Yet, Mattie was inclined to agree with her grandfather. The convalescent home looked more like perdition—a dull way station to the hereafter. That definitely wasn’t the effect she would be going for if she lived here.

“Next week I’m taking the petition to the director and demanding some rights,” Pops informed her. “If I can push this project through, the patients want you to decorate their rooms like you decorated mine. And believe me, I’ve had compliments piled on top of compliments, Shortcake. The thing is that we’re talking limited budgets at the old fogies’ home. Can you handle interior decor on a skimpy budget?”

Mattie sat there, stunned. Pops was drumming up business for her, adding to her already hectic schedule? Yet, the intense, determined look on his wrinkled features indicated that the upcoming crusade was vitally important to him. He was fighting to improve the quality of life for the senior citizens who required assisted living. Could she spare the time for a project of this magnitude?

How could she not? Several of the patients here had practically helped raise her while her grandfather worked construction. These elderly folks had fed her, baby-sat her and offered her the love and concern her own parents refused to be bothered with.

Now that Joe Gray had hired on at the store, she could make time to fulfill Pops’s request. True, she would meet herself coming and going, but what else was new?

“Okay, Pops, you’ve got a deal,” she told him.

The old man leaned over to give her a high five. “Thanks, Shortcake. This means a lot to me.”

“I can see that. Fortunately, I received a directive from corporate headquarters this morning, allowing me to hire an assistant. I filled the position immediately. Joe Gray is skilled in woodcrafting and—”

“Joe Gray? Never heard of him,” Pops broke in.

“He’s new in town. I rented the garage apartment to him,” she reported.

Pops’s dark eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Who is this character? Where’s he from? What do you know about him?”

Mattie took a moment to gather her thoughts and realized that she really did know quite a lot about her new assistant, although they had only spent eight hours working together.

“He’s thirty-five, single. He is respectful and has excellent rapport with the customers because he’s knowledgeable about hobbies and crafts. He thoroughly enjoys working with his hands in the workroom, and he isn’t the least bit allergic to hard work. I had to remind him to take a break this morning and this afternoon.”

“Single?” Pops inquired interestedly.

Mattie rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t even think about playing matchmaker. You have too much on your plate already. Besides, Joe and I are business associates, and that is as far as the relationship can possibly go.”

“Baloney,” Pops said, then snorted. “Unless Joe is a serial killer on the loose and hiding out in Fox Hollow, he sounds like your type. Some guys around here feel threatened because you can handle a power tool with the best of them.”

“Thanks to you,” Mattie put in, grinning.

“But if this Joe person shares your common interests and is a decent sort of fellow, I say go for it. Unless there’s something offensive about him. Is there? Ugly as original sin maybe?”

Mattie chuckled. “Just the opposite. My female customers constantly ask for his assistance, just to get a close look at him.”

“He sounds perfect. A Mary Poppins of the male variety.”

“Except that he works for me,” Mattie repeated. “I’d have to fire him if I became interested in him. Either that or I’d have to resign. I can’t do that, not when you’ve just handed me a time-consuming project to perk up your senior citizen friends.”

“Oh yeah, there is that,” Pops mumbled. “But there isn’t a single patient here at the home who wouldn’t tell you to go for it if this Joe character suits you, even if you spend your time with him and the rest of us have to stare at these bare walls an extra month before the interior decorations arrive.”

“Pops,” she said warningly.

He flung up his hand. “Don’t ‘Pops’ me, kiddo. You aren’t getting any younger, and I want you to have a life like your grandmother and I had together. Now that’s something you shouldn’t pass up.”

Mattie squirmed uncomfortably. They’d had this little talk before—about a thousand times, thank you very much. Pops wanted her married and settled before he passed on. She understood that, but you just couldn’t rush love. It either happened or it didn’t. So far it hadn’t. She’d been infatuated once or twice in her early twenties, but the relationships had fizzled out because Mattie kept long hours and took on the responsibility of caring for Pops. Most men didn’t like to compete with Pops. He was such a lively, energetic character that he tended to steal the show when he was underfoot. Her boyfriends—what few she had—demanded that she choose between them and Pops. It was no contest. This man had taken her in, raised her, provided for her, taught her skills and encouraged her to pursue her artistic gift.

Mattie glanced at her watch when her stomach growled, reminding her that she had skipped lunch in order to decorate Alice Dawson’s living room. “I better go, Pops. I haven’t had supper yet.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d eaten at this cafeteria you wouldn’t feel as if you’d eaten, either,” he muttered. “I’m serious about those snacks. Graham crackers, vanilla wafers, pudding cups. Doesn’t matter to me. Just bring some junk food for me and my cronies.”

Mattie sighed, resigned to becoming an accomplice. “Okay, get a list from your gang and call me at the store tomorrow. I’ll bring the goodies Sunday evening when I come to visit.”

“You’re a doll, Shortcake. Did I ever tell you that?”

“Yes, Pops, immediately after you’d dragged me into another of your schemes.”

“Hey, you know I love ya, kiddo. You were always my very best sidekick. Now I have to settle for these yahoos at the home, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you best of all.”

Mattie rose from the chair to give Pops an affectionate hug and kiss. “Love ya, Pops, even if you are the mastermind of the wildest bunch of codgers in Paradise Valley.”

“And you remember what I said about this Joe Gray person. If he’s worth your interest, then bend a few rules. I’m an advocate of that. You go, girl.”

Shaking her head at Pops’s adolescent jargon, Mattie exited. Pops was, without a doubt, the youngest seventy-eight-year-old in the country. He’d told her once that the only thing he regretted in life was not taking more risks—and he’d taken plenty of them, in her opinion. But when it came to her unwilling, unproductive attraction to Joe Gray, Mattie was hesitant.

No, she wasn’t going to fire Joe because she was interested in him, or because she really wanted to get to know him better. She needed him at the store, now more than ever—thanks to Pops’s latest mission. She’d put her feminine needs on hold years ago, after all. She could control her urges. She and Joe were going to be good buddies, best pals, she told herself sensibly. This was one time she was definitely not going to take Pops’s advice.

And that was all there was to that.

3

JOE WAS AMAZED at the number of customers who poured in and out of Hobby Hut on Saturday. When he commented to Mattie, she informed him that Fox Hollow was the closest community to the lake, and that cabin and cottage owners delighted in redecorating their weekend retreats. In addition, the retirees who lived in the wooded hills enjoyed keeping up with the latest seasonal fads.

Joe had never seen the likes of women, young and old, buying fall arrangements, Halloween and Thanksgiving decorations. When he and J.D. came up with the idea of the craft store that had expanded across the Midwest, they’d never dreamed of being so successful. But now that Joe was here in the trenches, watching these women, with a few reluctant husbands traipsing around the store, he realized why the business boomed. People liked to rearrange their homes by adding personal touches they could appreciate, then replacing decorations several times throughout the year. It was the variety that kept life new and interesting.

Twice during the day, the husbands of female shoppers had looked Joe up and down, then muttered “twinkie” half under their breaths. Joe probably should have been offended that he’d been categorized as effeminate because he actually liked creating knickknacks in the workshop and didn’t mind selling them. Once, however, he’d had to bite his tongue when a grumpy old man scowled and referred to the inventory at Hobby Hut as “sissy stuff no man would be caught dead selling, unless it was a last resort to keep the wolves from the door.”

Joe’s thoughts scattered like a flock of geese going airborne when Mattie scrunched in front of him at the cash register. “Here come the Zimmers for a refund,” she murmured confidentially. “Better let me handle them this first time so you’ll know how to deal with them. Lovable as they are, they get their kicks from trying to pull a fast one every now and then.”

Joe stepped aside, frowning curiously at the harmless-looking elderly couple who hobbled down the center aisle, a quart of paint clamped in each gnarled hand.

“Changed our minds about the accent colors in the bedrooms and living room,” Coreen Zimmer announced as she set the cans on the counter, then produced her receipt. “Just want our money back until we can agree on which colors to put where.”

Sounded reasonable enough to Joe. He couldn’t fathom why Mattie thought she needed to handle this simple transaction. But to his surprise, Mattie grabbed a flathead screwdriver from beneath the counter and opened the paint. To his horror, she dipped her finger into the can to taste the contents.