Shadow of Turning

Her bluish hazel eyes twinkled above a mischievous grin. “In that case, thanks for not smashing me flat.”

“You’re welcome.” Nate was rapidly losing his annoyance in the face of this young woman’s upbeat attitude. “So, how much more do you have to load?”

“You don’t want to know.” She made a face. “I’m sure I’ll have to make two trips to the shop to carry it all. They started bunching little items in piles to get rid of everything at the end and I wound up with a lot more than I intended to buy.”

She scanned the roadside. “You know, if we used your pickup truck to carry the excess we’d be done in no time. Where did you park it?”

“I didn’t. I told Ted to take it and go on home.”

“Bummer.” Her forehead wrinkled with obvious thought. “Say, since I’ve already settled my bill with the auctioneer, why don’t we drive over to their house to see if Ted minds if we borrow it? What do you think?”

Nate raised an eyebrow. He had no intention of telling her what he was actually thinking because it was anything but complimentary. He knew that helping a neighbor was customary in these parts but that didn’t mean he was ready to drop everything and come to her aid, even if her smile and dimples were pretty persuasive.

“Aren’t you afraid to go off and leave your stuff unattended?” he asked.

Chancy pulled a face. “I suppose you do have a good point, even in a place like Serenity. But borrowing the truck would be faster than my going back to the shop and unloading enough stuff to make room for the rest in the van.”

“Okay.” Nate saw no graceful way to turn her down without sounding snobbish. He cleared off the van’s passenger seat by gathering up a stack of framed photos and climbed in. “Then let’s go. I’ll just hold these while you drive. We can be back in a jiffy.”

“Right. Thanks!” She got behind the wheel, fired up the motor and cautiously pulled into traffic.

Habit made Nate glance in the rearview mirror on his side. The crowd was breaking up and other vehicles were also trying to join the outflow. Several car lengths back a thin, weary-looking woman wearing a bandanna around her long, dark hair darted into the middle of the street and stopped to stare after them.

Nate saw a car bearing down behind her. His breath caught. As he watched, she apparently came to her senses, whirled and stepped out of the way at the last instant.

“I don’t believe it,” he muttered.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, now. I almost saw an accident. Don’t you people ever look when you cross the street?”

Chancy laughed. “You’re definitely not from around here, are you?”

“How’d you guess?”

“It was easy. Didn’t you visit your grandparents when you were a boy?”

Nate sobered. “As a matter of fact, I lived with them for close to a year when I was finishing high school.”

He saw her brow knit. Then, her eyes widened and she stared over at him. “Nate? You’re Nasty Nathaniel? I don’t believe it!”

He huffed. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been called that. How nice of you to remember.”

“Hey, I’m sorry. It’s just that all the girls my age used to have terrible crushes on you. I think our parents gave you that nickname to scare us, which had the opposite effect, of course. You disappeared when I was in the eighth grade. What happened?”

“I joined the Marines and then went on to college and got my degree in meteorology. That’s—”

“I know. You’re a weatherman.” She laughed softly. “I suppose you thought I’d say you studied meteors. Does that happen often?”

“All the time.”

“Then it’s my pleasure to prove we’re not all country-bumpkins around here, even if we don’t always look both ways before crossing the street.”

TWO

Chancy pulled up the winding, dusty drive and stopped her van in front of the two-story Collins farmhouse. It was a relic of a bygone era with the same kind of charm as the quaint antiques that filled her shop.

Hester had planted tall, colorful hollyhocks along a southwest-facing wall. The pale pink peonies were almost ready to flower and clematis vines had begun to creep up the archway framing the access to the front door. Soon after the peonies were done, an enormous hydrangea bush next to the raised porch would begin to droop under the weight of mop-head flowers in varying shades of pink and lavender. The overall effect was charmingly reminiscent of picture postcards prevalent in the forties and fifties.

Before Nate was fully out of the van his grandmother came dashing off the porch with a screech of delight and gathered him up in an ample welcoming hug. “I’m so proud you’re here!”

Blushing, he nevertheless returned her affectionate embrace. “I’m happy to see you, too.”

“Well, come in, come in.” She smiled at Chancy. “You, too, girl. Get out and come on in. You’re always welcome.”

“Thanks, Miss Hester. But right now I’ve got more stuff to pick up from the auction. Nate said we might be able to borrow your farm truck to haul it, if you don’t mind.”

The old woman’s gray eyebrows arched above the frames of her glasses and her smile widened as she looked from Chancy to Nate and back again. “’Course not. You two just go right ahead and take the truck. I’m glad to hear that some of poor Jewel’s precious things found a good home. Ted didn’t want me to go to the sale and I suppose he was right, I just wish…”

Breaking off, she glanced at the porch where her husband lounged in a white-painted rocking chair with the shaggy, black-and-white dog lying at his feet.

“If there’s anything in the van you fancy I’ll be glad to save it for you,” Chancy offered.

“I know it’s foolishness to value earthly possessions. Still…” Hester stood on tiptoe to peer in at the collection Chancy had amassed. “If I had just one special thing to remember Jewel by, it would do this old heart good.”

Nate spoke up. “We really should be getting back to the auction. Chancy left a big pile of stuff and we don’t want it to walk off while she’s gone.”

“’Course you don’t.” Hester backed away from the van. “You go on, now. I don’t need nothin’.”

Nate had replaced the short stack of framed pictures and photos on the passenger seat when he’d gotten out. Chancy leaned over, gathered them up and passed them to Hester through the open window. “Here. Look through these and keep all you want. I know there are several nice pictures of Pete and Jewel in the pile. I just bought them for the old frames.”

“Bless your sweet little heart,” Hester said with tears in her eyes. “What do I owe you?”

“Not a thing,” Chancy replied. “It’s my pleasure.”

“Then you have to come back for supper tonight. I fixed Nate’s favorite. Pot roast. We’ll eat as soon as y’all are done haulin’ and unloadin’.”

The look she shot her flabbergasted grandson allowed no argument so he immediately swallowed his objections and formally backed her up. “Yes. Please join us. I know you must be too tired to go home and cook.”

“That’s the truth,” Chancy said. “All right. I’ll be happy to come for supper. Thanks for asking.”

As Nate turned and headed for the pickup truck, he was shaking his head. Somehow, his well-thought-out plans for a serious talk with his grandparents had been sidetracked big-time. Well, it couldn’t be helped now. All he could hope for at this point was a peaceful meal and not too much inane conversation.

He snorted in self-deprecation. Anybody who recalled his detested nickname from a good fifteen years ago was probably full of colorful remembrances about his escapades as a wild teen; events he hoped his grandparents had either forgiven or forgotten. Or both.

The first thing he was going to have to do was win over Chancy Boyd and ask her not to make any embarrassing references to his past. The best way to ensure that, he reasoned, was to help her haul her auction purchases in Ted’s truck and then also offer to unload them.

It wasn’t a task Nate particularly relished volunteering for but in his view, some serious PR work was called for.