SM owns Twilight and its characters. I own this story. 2010.
Thank you to BilliCullen, NEW AUTHOR of Clean Up on Aisle Five, for the always awesome pre-reading. Beta-lady and fic-wife, Scooterstale, has returned to the world of the damned (by that, I mean the world of the working / non-vacationing sort). Thank you for fixing everything and making it better.
Can You Help Me Remember How to Smile
For the remainder of the week, I went about my normal business, ignoring, for the most part, all else. I quickly learned that work, without the assistance of Mrs. Cope, was a nightmare. That woman deserved not only a raise, but elevation to sainthood. After spending two hours on the phone wrangling through yet another delivery debacle – this time, an antique roadster delivered to the wrong fucking state – I was almost to the point of boiling over. By two in the afternoon, I was unsuccessfully fighting the urge to throw things.
In an effort to preserve the condition of my desk and office, as well as my own sanity, I opted to defer the remainder of my calls until later. Potentially, much later, I amended, thinking of the incompetence of my Mid-west supplier. Where Jenks had driven me to curse and spit, this man, I wanted to reach through the phone line and strangle.
For the life of me, I could not understand the number of telephone calls I – or, more so, the business – received each day, how many idiotic solicitations and queries. Again, these were all things that Mrs. Cope dealt with completely behind the scenes and unbeknownst to me. Admittedly, a not small part of me wished I'd taken her up on her offer to find me a temp in her absence. But in the same breath, I knew that handling anyone else would be a disaster, for the temp and for myself.
Dealing with Ms. Swan – or Bella, as she demanded to be called – was taxing enough. I hadn't seen the woman since she'd run out of my kitchen, wearing an expression that still hadn't left me. The lack of contact was both a blessing and an irritation. I wanted nothing to do with her yet I did, and it confused the hell out me. Bella was different, new, a break from the norm, and on top of that, I knew next to nothing about her. She didn't behave as did normal people around me, and I wasn't quite sure how to reconcile that. She was fascinating, a puzzle perhaps. Thus, my brain was unconsciously drawn to her. Considering how my life was nothing but a gray repeat of the same day over and over, it wasn't so surprising that even a small shift in my sphere caught my attention. As such, there was a certain appeal there. No doubt, however, that she'd had her fill of me, and likely I'd not hear from her again until she needed something with the house. And that was just fine; all the better, if I were being honest.
I ventured downstairs and wandered into the kitchen. Not surprisingly, before I even had the refrigerator door open, I heard the rattling buzz of my cell vibrating against the countertop. Exasperated, my palms flew to my face and furiously scrubbed.
"Seriously? Who the fuck?" I ground out between clenched teeth as I grabbed for the offending noise.
E. Cullen.
No.
"Could he have any better timing?" I grumbled, vowing to ignore the call per my usual and let it go to voicemail. Dealing with Emmett's bullshit wasn't anything I was inclined to do today.
But of course, he didn't leave a voicemail. He just called again. And then again until I'd had enough.
"What is it, Emmett?" I finally answered after three consecutive calls.
He replied with his typical jovial banter, though even I could tell that his voice was laced with a tinge of annoyance. "About time, Edward. Nice to speak with you, too."
"Yeah, okay. What's wrong?"
"Can I not just call my brother to see what he's up to?"
I suppressed a sigh, but my fingers involuntarily started drumming a tight, fast rhythm across the counter. "Sure. Fine. How are you, Emmett?"
"Well, since you asked, I'm doing well. Rose and I are actually in town," he said, the smile on his face evident even through the phone.
Shit.
"Why?" I responded stiffly, knowing exactly what was coming.
"We're probably going to buy the old Crowley place across town. Tyler's granddad died a few months ago and they're anxious to get the place off their hands. Needs some updating, but it's a good location - close to the middle of town and all. And it has a big enough yard for whenever the baby gets old enough to need it."
"Right. I suppose I'm happy for you then. Should I say my congratulations now? Or later?" I said, hoping to hide my true feelings on the matter. Since our last conversation, I'd managed to forget, or at least ignore his intention to move back. But now they'd found a house, and as such, that was a hell of a lot more than just an intention. Now I had to face the very real and probable fact that more often than I'd like, I'd have to deal with my family in person rather than via phone.
"We were actually hoping to drop by? Maybe even bring some take-out or something and have dinner? Mom said that Mrs. Cope was out on leave."
Goddamnit, no.
"I, that's not a good idea, Emmett. I'm swamped with work. Maybe next time."
The inflection in Emmett's voice changed. I wasn't sure if I'd finally offended him with my curtness or if it was something else. "Look, Edward. We're going to drop by. We're going to say 'hello'. It's what families do. I get that you don't really want to see me, but I'll be damned if you are going to be a dick to Rose. You are going to be an uncle at some point in the near future. We won't stay long or disrupt your precious time and space, but we're going to stop by."
I glanced around the kitchen, looking past the doorway and into the living room. It was a mess; scattered everywhere, there were stacks of wrinkled newspapers, empty containers, and more than a respectable number of empty glass bottles. Again, something I'd taken for granted with Mrs. Cope around. I did not need Emmett and Rosalie, and thus the entire fucking family thinking I needed any more of their intervention or involvement.
"Fucking hell, Emmett. If you're going to be such a persistent ass, how about I just meet you somewhere instead?"
"Really?" he asked, seemingly disbelieving that I'd volunteer to leave the house. "Seriously?"
"Yeah, fine. Just tell me where, and I'll be there or whatever. Will that work?"
"Absolutely." He actually sounded excited, happy even, which made me feel like more of a jackass than ever. I knew that I did everything I possibly could to push them away. So how was it that just agreeing to eat a fucking hotdog or hamburger at a shitty small town restaurant could elicit such a reaction?
"How about the Diner at six-thirty?"
"Six-thirty. Okay, I'll be there," I sighed.
~.~.~
At six-thirty seven, I pulled into the last open space in the graveled lot of the Forks Diner. It was an old place, probably the oldest restaurant on the entire Peninsula. In some form or another, it'd been around almost since the founding of the town. The current incarnation, a small one-storey clap-board with wall-length front windows, dated back to the late nineteen-seventies or early nineteen-eighties. The décor reminded me of my youth, complete with wood paneling and brightly colored Formica counters. Despite appearances, however, even I had to admit, the food was probably the best around. Even out in the parking lot, it smelled good.
Walking in, I shoved my hands in my pockets and glanced up to the sky. Gray had returned; the clouds were heavy and dark, billowing and threatening rain yet again. I predicted that I had maybe an hour at most before I'd be driving home through another downpour.
The jingle of the door announced my presence, and like in any small town, the moment a door opened, all eyes swiveled to appraise the newcomer. As it had been in the grocery store – albeit there, the reactions were better disguised – it was perfectly obvious that I was the last person most of the patrons had expected to see. A brief hush settled over the room, and I tried to not glare at the open-mouthed staring. Inwardly, I just sighed. Considering my rare appearances in town, their ogling was at least partly justified.
Not particularly wanting to be the center of attention, I quickly scanned the room, searching for Emmett. Thankfully, with his large, bulky frame and overly enthusiastic smile, he wasn't hard to find. Mentally, I'd prepared myself for his annoyingly cheerful questioning and chatter. As per his usual, I knew he would spend the next hour doing his damnedest to act like we were best friends and both happy to be there. And I knew that I was expected to be on my best behavior for his new fiancée.
What I wasn't expecting, however, was to see another person in the bench across from them.
This can't be happening! Fuck my life, I groaned as I approached their table. How the fuck?
"Emmett," I greeted shortly. "Rosalie."
Emmett detected none of my irritation. Or he did a superb job in hiding that he did. "Edward! Hey, man. I'm glad you could make it. Do you kno-,"
"Ms. Swan," I interrupted, looking down at the dark haired woman opposite my brother. It threw me for a moment when I noticed that her hair was uncharacteristically down and lightly styled. Even in my fleeting assessment, I could see a dozen shades of chestnut interspersed with lighter caramels and a deep reddish color to which I couldn't put a name. It framed her face… nicely.
My gaze trailed down to the rounded collar of her almost-midnight blue blouse. Her skin was flawless and so pale against that particular color, like porcelain. And she wore just a touch of make-up – nothing over-done, just… accentuating. It was odd seeing her there, looking like that. Put together and less casual.
Before I could give myself away, I quickly looked from her to Emmett. With a disinterested wave and disinterested tone, I clarified, "Yes, you could say we know each other. We're neighbors." I really had no inclination to share with my brother that I'd had any interaction with her beyond that of lessor and lessee.
"Edward," Bella answered with a small smile, garnering confused as hell expressions from both Rosalie and Emmett, likely due to her polite usage of my first name. Turning to Rosalie, she expanded with slight shake of her head. "Not exactly neighbors. I rent his white house."
"I wasn't aware that you would be joining us," I replied curtly, managing to ignore the quiet choking sound coming from my brother.
"Oh, God, no. I was just stopping by to grab a bite, and I just happened to see Rose," she laughed.
And then she smirked that goddamned smirk of hers, the one that drove me to the point of pulling my hair out, the one that said, 'There's more here but I'm not saying.'
Of course. Yes. That just makes a fuckload of sense. You would just happen to know my future sister-in-law. Why didn't I guess that?
"Really? I didn't know you knew each other," I hedged, trying to keep the biting sarcasm, as well as the raging curiosity, out of my tenor. Annoyed to no end, I realized that apparently, going a few days without seeing the wretched woman had no influence whatsoever on my nosiness.
Emmett cleared his throat, breaking my inquisition, and said, "Edward, are you going to sit down, or what?"
"Wait, just let me slide out," Bella interjected quickly, already moving to vacate the bench. "I have to run."
Yes, thank you, I wanted to add.
Before she could get up, Rosalie reached across the table, placing her palm across Bella's forearm to halt her. "No, please stay, Bella? Come on, it's no fun eating alone."
Warily, almost as if she were asking permission, Bella looked up to me again, her russet eyes depthless. There was that frailty there again, something just below the surface of her confident façade. It was the same expression I'd observed when she sat in my kitchen days before.
And just as before, the changes in this woman's expressions were purely baffling. One minute, she would be feisty and mocking, and then the next, she'd be demure and almost shy. And that fucking blush was mind-boggling. I still had no idea what to make of it.
From the warning looks Emmett was throwing my way, I knew what was expected of me. Were there not a crowd, one that still seemed to be staring at my rarely-seen self like I was some oddity or circus act, I'd have either left myself or just let her leave as she'd intended.
Noting my surroundings and company, I rationalized that my evening was wrecked anyway. "Yeah, fine. Stay," I huffed, sitting down beside her, effectively blocking her exit.
"If you're sure. I don't want to intrude," she murmured, almost as if for my ears alone.
"Just sit, Bella."
The one positive about the whole experience was that with a third party present, Emmett couldn't grill me on his usual topics. And granted, the stupid part of me took some measure of satisfaction that through Emmett's, and especially Rosalie's, questions and conversation, a few more of my own questions were answered about my enigma of a tenant.
When I asked again how she knew Rosalie, Bella smiled. But before she could answer, Rosalie chimed in, first answering me and then continuing to Bella. "Oh, she's going to be working for us at the college this fall. Although, Bella, I do wish you'd consider the Port Angeles main campus. There's only a handful of courses here in Forks. You'll be bored."
I hadn't known that Rosalie also worked at the college. Or more likely, I recognized, I'd been told but had simply forgotten. When Emmett and Rosalie started dating, I hadn't been at my most coherent. In fact, I barely remembered most of that year.
"We'll see," Bella interjected lightly, picking through the salad she'd ordered. "They haven't called me yet. Who knows, maybe I'll see if the library needs any help."
Turning to me, she explained. "Rose was my host for my interview. I didn't realize until just a few minutes ago you were, or rather will be, related."
"Trust me," Rosalie answered, rolling her eyes. "I work for the Dean. I see all the applicants that come across. You're a shoe-in. They've been looking for months. Do you know how hard it is to get people to move out here? And plus, you have the experience. And the recommendations."
"We'll see," she offered with a shrug.
For the most part, I was able to eat my hamburger and fries and not speak. Only occasionally did I have to answer a random question about how my business was going, if I'd be driving into Seattle for dad's birthday in August, how Mrs. Cope was faring. When I quietly shared that Gerald would be spending the next few weeks in the hospital, a worried crease appeared in Bella's forehead.
"So, Bella," Emmett started after a long pause. "Why in the hell are you living so far out of town? I mean, you don't know anyone here, right? Wouldn't you prefer to live where there are actual people? Or at least people that you could interact with?"
While a part of me took exception to Emmett's slight, I'd wondered the same thing myself more times than I cared to admit. Not wanting to reveal my interest, I focused all my attention on the sandwich in my hands.
In my periphery, I saw Bella's head tilt down. Softly, she answered, "No, I like it out there. It's quiet. Garrett has a yard to run around in, and I don't know, I like older houses."
That wasn't the whole story. I knew that as plainly as if I'd spoken the words myself. Yet what the rest of it was, I didn't know.
"Garrett?" Rosalie asked, puzzled. "You have a son? Is he with a sitter?"
At Rosalie's query, Bella's head lifted and she laughed a full, throaty laugh, one like I'd heard when she'd been talking to Jacob Black. "Christ, no! Garrett's my dog! He's a Lab mix and likes to run."
"Oh," Rosalie replied.
"So, you aren't married? No kids?" Emmett asked. I knew what he was up to and I kicked him hard under the table. He was forever trying to locate distractions for me. Emmett was under the mistaken assumption that if I were to date again, I'd magically be 'all better.'
As quickly as it'd come on, the laughter stopped. Almost in a whisper, she responded, "No, not anymore. I'm actually just recently divorced. James, my ex, is still in Arizona. And no, I don't have any children."
When I looked down, I could see that the color had drained from her face. Her lips were pursed into a forced smile, the same one she'd put on when I'd asked her the same questions. Her eyes were dark and troubled, as if she were remembering something unpleasant. Something had happened to this woman. Everything about her screamed it. And I couldn't help but feel just a slight bit of kinship.
Rosalie, fortunately, noticed the same reaction I did and steered the conversation away to less risky topics. For more than an hour, we sat and… chatted. It'd been a long time since I'd spent that much time in my brother's presence. But as soon as I counted the evening as a success, he had to ruin it.
"Mom wanted me to ask if you'd drive in for the Fourth. I think she's wanting to throw a big party or something. And she'd really like to see you, Ed. She misses you like crazy and it hurt her that she didn't see you at the cemetery."
My brows furrowed, irritated that I couldn't go two hours without being reminded of my failure as a son, brother, and person in general. "No, Emmett. You know I don't do those shindigs of hers. I have no desire to sit there all night and watch mom and dad entertain one hundred of their closest friends. You know I don't put on a good show. You don't want me there."
"Edward, come on. You haven't seen mom or dad in months," he pressed. "Don't be so selfish."
"How many times do I have to say it? No," I answered.
"Jacob!" I heard Bella call out over my shoulder. While I was certainly thankful for the interruption, I was not pleased with the cause. Following her line of sight, I saw the tall, lean form of Jacob Black decorating the doorframe. He was wearing the same cocky grin he always wore, and his eyes were alight with mischief.
"Bella! Hey!" he returned, sauntering over to the table. "Cullen? Emmett. And I don't think I know? Is this Rosalie?"
"Jake, how are you?" Emmett answered jovially, extending his hand out in greeting, completely unaware of my glaring.
Jacob laughed a deep bass. "Aw, man, just fine. Dad's killing me with all the work." He looked over to Bella and continued, "Speaking of work, hey, Bella, when did you want me to come over to finish that upstairs room?"
My head jerked to the right, waiting for her answer. Room? What the hell is he talking about?
"How about tomorrow night? Just whenever you get off work and it's convenient. I'll make you a sandwich. How's that?" she replied excitedly.
"Room?" I asked quietly, unable to prevent the incredulous climb of my brows.
.
.
Chapter title: lyrics from Runaway Train, by Soul Asylum
