Second Chances: A Small Town Love Story Page 7

  She turned left at the gas station and started to pay attention to the street numbers of the houses. As she neared eighty-eight, she smiled as she saw what Freddie had been talking about.

  Josh’s house didn’t have a white picket fence, it had a, she didn’t know quite what to call it, other than a ski picket fence. Old skis, their tips facing the street lined the property. In any other town it would’ve looked junky, but in Chance Rapids, it was the perfect fence.

  She walked up the pathway to the covered porch. She lifted her hand to knock on the door but then paused to take a deep breath. She could feel the butterflies taking flight in her stomach. She knew that she had a good excuse to be there, but she also knew that Josh had done everything he could to stop her from dropping by his house.

  She wondered why. It was the cutest little bungalow on the street, complete with a wooden porch swing and red front door.

  You can do this. You’re just here on business. She said to herself and steeled her nerves as she raised her hand again to knock.

  But the door opened before she could touch it.

  “Megan.” Josh seemed surprised. He stepped out onto the porch in his sweater and closed the door behind him.

  “Hi,” Megan said, a little more breathless than she would’ve liked.

  “Hi,” Josh replied. “What are you doing here?”

  “I. Um, Freddie told me that Sarah has you working on some tables. I was just wondering if I could take a look at them.”

  Josh didn’t move from his position in front of the door. “The tables. Yeah, they’re not done yet. Still in pieces really. Not much to see.”

  “Oh, okay. Sorry to bother you.”

  Megan turned to walk away and could feel the heat in her cheeks contrasted against the cold afternoon air.

  “Megan, wait.” She turned to face him. He blew on his bare hands to keep them warm. He was wearing a wool sweater and a flat brim baseball hat, and both were covered in sawdust. There he was, an honest to goodness, hard working man, who could literally have stepped on the pages of an Eddie Bauer magazine ad, with his perfectly messy hair and mountain man beard: short enough that he wasn’t Grizzly Adams, but manly and full enough to protect him from the elements. “Come in.”

  She felt a whoosh as blood rushed through her body and she could hear her heart start to beat a touch faster. “I didn’t mean to drop by like this.”

  “It’s okay. I guess I couldn’t keep you away forever.”

  Josh opened the door and allowed Megan to cross the threshold first. She stepped into the warmth of the house and saw that it was courtesy of a crackling fire in a round river rock fireplace. “It’s cold out.”

  “Yep. The snow line has finally reached the valley bottom. Winter is here.”

  “I thought that winter didn’t start until December 21st.”

  “I can take your coat,” Josh held out his hand and helped Megan shrug out of the wet down. “For the locals, winter starts as soon as we have to start plowing the driveways in town.”

  “Well, you should tell your town council that. They’ve already started with the Christmas Carols.”

  Josh laughed, “Yep. That sounds about right. You should be here in July when it’s stampede time. It’s country music twenty-four seven.”

  Megan groaned.

  “I didn’t think that you were the country music type.”

  “Not at all!” Megan laughed.

  “Well, maybe you just haven’t heard the right bands.”

  That’s when Megan noticed that there was country music coming out of the speaker propped on the kitchen counter. She glanced around the room, from the outside of the house you never would’ve been able to tell that the inside was a mere skeleton. She looked down at the floor and it was plywood, the countertop was plywood, the kitchen cupboards open and unfinished. A hot plate and coffee pot sat next to the kitchen sink.

  Josh followed her gaze. “It’s probably not what you’re used to.”

  “It’s just...” Megan’s voice trailed off.

  “Not finished.” Josh finished her sentence. “Have a seat,” he gestured to a picnic table that sat adjacent to the kitchen. Megan walked over and slid onto the bench seat. “Would you like some tea?” Josh asked, pulling a box from one of the open cupboards and rummaging around.

  “You know what Josh. I think that I would just like to see what you’ve done with the benches and tables for the café.”

  Megan could see that Josh was embarrassed by his home. She felt terrible for dropping by unannounced and figured the best thing that she could do was get out of his hair as soon as possible.

  “Sure. Yeah. Okay, follow me,” Josh said.

  Megan followed Josh past his makeshift kitchen and down a hallway. She glanced into a bedroom and saw a gorgeous log bed, neatly made with a red and blue checkered quilt, a wicker dog basket on the floor beside it.

  He led her to the basement, and to her surprise, Megan walked into a gorgeous workshop. Live edge shelving gleamed and ran the entire length of the basement. Edison light bulbs hung from modern fixtures and there were several tables set up with various tools and saws.

  “The benches are over there.” Josh pointed to a row of what looked liked logs cut in half lengthwise, all resting on thin slats of wood. “And the tables are over there.” He pointed to the other corner where the huge slabs of wood rested across sawhorses, they were the thickest and most beautiful pieces of wood she had ever seen.

  “How did you get them so shiny?” she asked.

  “It’s a little trick of the trade.” He smiled.

  Megan eyed up the craftsmanship, estimating that a table like it would cost at least five grand in the city. “Wait, did you build that bed upstairs in your bedroom?”

  “I sure did.”

  “If you’re so handy, how come...” Megan’s voice trailed off as she realized how rude her question was going to sound.

  “How come my house looks like a broke teenager lives here?” Josh smiled and placed his hand on one of the slabs.

  “I mean, Josh, you don’t even have a kitchen stove.”

  “You know that saying about the cobbler’s kids not having shoes? It’s kind of like that with a carpenter. I spend all day building homes for other people, the last thing I want to do when I get home is work on my own. I gutted this house five years ago and I guess I just stopped seeing how rough it looks.

  “It doesn’t look rough, Josh. I mean, from the outside this place could be on a Christmas card. The inside, I mean, I can see the potential, but it does look – temporary.”

  “I never thought about it that way. I mean, I’m definitely not going anywhere.”

  “So why not make this a home?”

  Megan regretted her question immediately, but even more so when she saw Josh stiffen and purse his lips.

  “That was out of line.” Megan looked down at the tiled floor wishing that she could go back in time and take back her comment.

  “No, I mean, I’m thirty-four years old, my glassware shouldn’t all have come from the Last Chance.”

  “The Last Chance? And wait, you’re thirty-four?”

  “Yep. I’m an old man now. And you mean to tell me you’ve been here for how many years and you’ve never been to the Last Chance?”

  “Um. No...”

  “Wow, you really don’t get out much, do you? That’s gotta be the first stop on our tour. Speaking of which, I have to let this varathane dry, why don’t we start our Chance Rapids guided tour right now?”

  “I really shouldn’t.” Megan protested.

  “What, you’ve got somewhere to go?”

  “Actually, no. And it looks like the crew is done for the day, so, why not. Let’s do it. Go get your cane, old man, and show me the town.” Megan winked at Josh and strode out of the workshop.

  JOSH HOOKED TIMBER up to his leash and the three of them set out toward the downtown strip. The snow hadn’t let up and it was now over the top of Megan’s boots as she walk
ed. As they turned the corner, Josh pointed to the icicles hanging from the barber shop awning, “Watch your head, we call those widow-maker’s here.” As Megan looked up at the giant spear of ice looming over her head, she missed its counterpart, a frozen puddle of ice and even with Charlotte’s fancy winter boots, her foot slipped out from beneath her. “Eeeeeee,” she squealed and flailed her arms, grasping for anything to rescue her tailbone from certain bruising.

  Josh caught her by her elbow and whisked her back to her feet. “I guess I should’ve been more worried about the ice patch than the death spear,” he laughed. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay,” Megan’s heart was pumping. Josh was still gripping her elbow and she swore that she could feel the heat from his hand penetrating her down coat and radiating through to her core.

  “This would be the gentlemanly thing to do, wouldn’t it?” Josh said and crooked his elbow, inviting Megan to weave her arm through his. She smiled and stuck her mittened hand through the crook and gripped his muscular forearm.

  “First stop, the coffee shop.”

  “Wait, I thought Chance Rapids didn’t have a coffee shop.”

  “I should say gas station,” Josh chuckled. “You need to study your competition, don’t you?”

  “I suppose I do,” Megan mused.

  They walked past the pumps and into the gas station, a bell ringing above the door as they entered.

  “Hi, Josh.” The white-haired lady at the cash register smiled. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Muriel, this is Megan.”

  “Well, how do you do?” Muriel asked and leaned on the counter.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Megan smiled and reached out her hand to shake Muriel’s.

  The gas station was surprisingly warm inside, not white and institutional like the stations along the highway. Beams ran along the ceiling and there were stuffed bears and deer placed in each corner. “Are those real?” Megan whispered.

  “Yep,” Josh whispered back and reached his arm around her to guide her to the small eating area adjacent to the convenience store. The smell of fried food and something delicious that Megan couldn’t quite put her finger on, met them as they slid into the Formica seats of the booth.

  Muriel toddled over to the table with a coffee carafe in her hand, “Coffee? Just brewed.”

  “Yes, please,” Josh smiled and held up his white ceramic cup. Muriel’s hand shook as she poured the hot liquid into Josh’s cup.

  “You too, honey?”

  “Yes, please.” Megan slid her cup across the table.

  After Muriel left Josh leaned forward and whispered, “You don’t like to live on the edge, do you?”

  “I prefer to keep my hands un-scalded,” Megan whispered back and unfolded the laminated menu. “What’s the house specialty?”

  “Well, I heard that they’re fresh out of caviar, but the grilled cheese sandwich is a nice option. Or the fish and chips.”

  “Do I dare ask?” Megan pointed to the sign above the cutout for the kitchen. It was a piece of lined paper scrawled with marker stating that beaver tails were on sale.

  “You’ve never had a beaver tail?”

  Megan’s eyes grew wide. “No. I can’t say that I have.”

  “Well, I know what we’re ordering. He reached over and closed her menu and waved Muriel over to the table.”

  “A beaver tail with two forks.”

  “Coming right up,” she jotted the order down on her notepad and tucked it back into her apron.

  “Josh, I’m not even all that hungry,” Megan protested. “I’m fine with the coffee.”

  To illustrate she took a sip and nearly spat out the contents onto the table.

  “Muriel likes to make it thick.” Josh grinned and poured two generous teaspoons of sugar into his coffee.

  “That’s barely drinkable,” Megan whispered.

  “I know, but if you add enough sugar, it’s like jet fuel. Be prepared to get everything from your to-do list checked off.”

  Megan took a look around the gas station coffee shop. There were two tables of old men in work clothes all drinking coffee and playing cards. She could hear the bell ring as people walked into the variety store, clomping the snow off their boots on the rubber mat. “So how is this beavertail prepared?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

  “Oh, it’s deep fried.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me? And what’s the texture like?”

  Josh leaned his elbows on the table and brought his face in close to hers. He smiled mischievously, his eyes never breaking their lock on hers. He took her hand in his and Megan felt her breath hitch. But instead of holding it, he placed it on the table and smoothed it out so that her palm was flat on the cold surface. “Well, you see. When they cut the tail off the beaver, it’s really tough from all that water slapping, so they have to tenderize it.” He made a chopping motion on her wrist. Then he grabbed the salt shaker and started to roll it over her hand. “They take it in the back and drive a truck over top of it. Not a small truck like mine, but a three-quarter ton truck, it’s the only thing that will get them nice and flat.”

  “Oh my god. That’s terrible.” Megan wanted to rip her hand away, to make the disgusting story stop, but she liked the way Josh’s fingers felt as they traced over the top of her hand.

  “Then, once it’s nice and flat they bring it inside and rinse it off. Not too thoroughly though, the dirt texture is part of the delicacy. It’s lightly breaded and then tossed in the fryer.” Josh picked up her hand and rubbed it between both of his so that it got warm with friction.

  Muriel arrived at their table and Megan held her breath as Muriel set down the plate. When she saw what was on it, she ripped her hands from Josh’s and playfully slapped the back of his hand. “It’s a donut you jerk.”

  Josh’s laugh was deep and hearty, “Did you really think you were getting a dirty old run over beaver tail?”

  “Yes, I did,” Megan laughed, trying to keep a straight face, “And I wasn’t looking forward to it. At all.”

  “Well, you’ve gotta try this.”

  Megan leaned in to smell the pastry, “Ah, cinnamon, that’s what I smelled when we walked in here.”

  “The G Spot is known for their beaver tails.”

  Megan took her knife and fork and cut off a side of the warm pastry, she took a bite and then melted as the warmth of the sugar and dough melted on her tongue. “The gas station is called the G Spot?”

  “Well, that’s what we locals call it. The Sugar Peaks crowd don’t have any creativity and just called it the General Store.”

  “And the specialty at the G Spot is the Beaver Tail.”

  “You got it,” Josh grinned and ripped at the pastry with his fingers and took a bite. “It’s easier just to dive right in.” Josh looked at her wryly and ripped off another piece, this time offering it up to Megan. She didn’t know whether he expected her to lean forward and let him feed her, so she played it safe and plucked the dough from his fingers with hers. She took another bite. “I’m going to have to get the recipe for this.”

  Josh sat back on the bench seat. “So, there are two reasons I brought you here. We are all in this together, and by ‘we’, I mean, everyone in Chance Rapids, so we don’t try to compete with each other.”

  “What are you saying, Josh?” Megan peeled the last bite off the plate and ripped it in two, offering half to Josh.

  “I’m saying, the coffee here is shit. People don’t come here for the coffee. They come here for the fish and chips and the beaver tails. So, don’t sell fish and chips and beaver tails at your café.”

  “I don’t think that anyone can tell me what I can and can’t sell at the café.”

  “You’re right about that. But, if you want to make it in the shoulder seasons, when the tourists aren’t here, you’re going to have to appease the locals. Not one person in this town is going to go into your bake shop if you start selling Muriel’s beaver tails.”

  Megan
leaned back in her chair and choked back another sip of the turpentine coffee. “So basically, the whole town is under a non-disclosure, non-compete clause, all sealed with a handshake.”

  “You’re starting to get the picture.”

  “Alright, Mr. Chance Rapids – where to next?” Megan knocked back the last of her coffee and shuddered.

  Josh slid out of the booth and held his hand out for her. “I thought we would do something fun.”

  Megan reluctantly took his hand and let him help her out of the tight booth. “I have the feeling that you and I have different definitions of the word ‘fun,’ Josh.”

  “Well, let’s continue our tour of downtown first then. Coffee to go?” He whispered into her ear and placed his hand on her back.

  Megan giggled, “Hell no,” she whispered under her breath.

  The sun was dipping down over the jagged horizon as they strolled the downtown strip. Quarter sized snowflakes were falling softly from the sky and when the streetlamps clicked on, they seemed to dance in their light. Megan felt like she was walking in a living, breathing snow globe.

  Every person they passed smiled and said hi to Josh.

  “Do you know everyone here?” she asked.

  “Pretty much, until the seasonal crowd rolls in. They look at you like you’ve got two heads if you say hello to them on the street.”

  Megan felt the same way the first time it had happened to her in Chance Rapids. An old man had tipped his hat at her and said good morning as she was walking into the job site. Now, all the hellos and Merry Christmas greetings were giving her the warm and fuzzies.

  They passed a streetlamp with a ladder leaning against it and as they walked by, Freddie hopped off and landed beside them with a thud. “You found him.”

  “I did. He’s just giving me a tour of the town,” Megan smiled.

  “Hard to believe that you’ve had that massive house here for years and you’re just getting around to the town tour now.”

  “I guess I just haven’t spent much time here, that’s all.” Megan breathed out her breath a cloud. She technically wasn’t lying, she hadn’t spent any time at Charlotte’s house at all. How am I going to get out of this lie before it gets away on me? She wondered.