Borrowed. Not for profit. Etc.
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The pumpkin patch out behind the old cottage was thriving, and the man sitting on the porch steps smiled with quiet satisfaction. He had sun-streaked brown hair and crescents of dirt under his nails from recent weeding. Beside him on the porch steps rested an old hat with a rounded crown and broad brim. It did his heart good to see the land being used right; as soon as the corn had finished its yield, he'd put in the pumpkins, and he was looking forward to a fine crop of jack-o-lanterns in a few more weeks.
Movement through the trees caught his eye; there was a car turning in from the road, negotiating its way down through the tree-lined trail to the house. There was something familiar about it...wasn't that the same vehicle he'd seen parked by that new house across the lake? He'd been watching the building of it all summer, between spells of writing and tending his garden. A nice little place, still self-consciously new; he'd first noticed someone was there a couple of weeks ago, but he hadn't attempted to meet them.
Well now, looky here, he thought as the woman emerged from the boxy SUV. That is my kind of woman, yes indeed. Curves where a woman's supposed to have curves, and not bad looking. "Howdy," he said, rising to his feet and retrieving his hat as she approached.
"Hey there! You're Mr. Rainey? We're neighbors, I thought I'd drop by say hey."
A southern girl, he realized with pleasure. Her soft drawl made his smile grow a little broader. "I reckon you have the advantage of me, Missy."
"I'm sorry, I'm Nadine Cooper." She extended her hand, and his calloused fingers explored her smooth palm.
"Nadine Cooper, Nadine Cooper...now, why is that name familiar?"
"We share the same publisher," she reminded him with a smile, "but I don't believe we've ever actually met before. You reviewed one of my books once, I think you liked it better than I did."
"Of course, of course! That one about the Great War, and the influenza epidemic...I liked that one, I thought Adele was real clever about getting her revenge on the fella that sold her the lame horse. Shame about that horse." He'd rescued the book from a stack of review copies and stolen two precious nights to read through it. As soon as he'd finished, he'd sat down and fired off a praise-filled letter to their mutual publisher. Otherwise, it wouldn't've gotten done, and a book like that deserved at least a few friendly words.
"And you still remember it?" She sounded pleased and surprised. Her grey eyes crinkled at the corners. This wasn't some young gal still wet behind the ears, she must be close to his own forty years, but there was a hint of shyness in her smile, in the way she'd meet his eyes for a few seconds and glance away.
"I surely do. And I look forward to being neighborly with you, seeing as there's not a whole lot of folks up at this end of the lake." Trekking to New London for groceries because he wasn't welcome in Tashmore Lake hadn't exactly broadened his circle of friends. He knew what they were saying about him in town -- the sheriff himself had been out to the cabin in July and spelled it out for him -- but either she hadn't heard the comments or was wise enough to make up her own mind.
"Here, let me give you my phone number, that way if one of us is running to the store or whatever, we can help each other out."
She fished a slip of paper from her pocket, and pulled a pen from the bird's nest of her hair. "That's mighty kind of you, Missy," he said, admiring the little golden brown ringlets escaping from her upswept hair. Damn, even her hair had curves! He accepted the number and tucked it into the pocket of his blue work shirt.
"It's been nice meeting you," she said. "I've got groceries thawing in the car, I'd better go put them up." She strolled over to the dusty Subaru, and, holding the driver's door open, looked back at him. "Love the hat!" With a last smile, she departed, and the man stood watching her go with a disquieting mixture of admiration and sorrow. She was very attractive to him, but how long would that warm smile remain on her face once Tashmore Lake's finest got through enlightening her?
As her vehicle pulled out onto the main road, he took out the strip of paper -- it was a grocery receipt totalling $23.98 -- studying her neat printing, and memorized the number. When he went in to wash his hands, he carefully tacked it to the wall beside the phone, and hoped it would stay there.