Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 486(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
I take another sip of the tea. “How did that work out for you?”
“I practically broke my back raking leaves for Mrs. Callabero. She lived around the corner from us at this majestic brownstone. It had the biggest trees I’ve ever seen in front of it.”
Enjoying this tale of his quest to get his hands on the special edition of Hildy’s game, I motion for him to continue with a roll of my pointer finger in the air. “How much did you earn doing that?”
“I got a bottle of cold root beer and a chocolate bar. They were both personal favorites of mine at the time.” A raise of his eyebrows accompanies the chuckle that escapes him. “I was very clear that I was looking for money before I agreed to take on the job, but Mrs. Callabero told me to be grateful she gave me anything, so I thanked her.”
“You were a polite kid back then.”
“I’m still just as polite,” he notes. “The moral of this twisted story of my youth is to get every contract in writing with the terms spelled out clearly. I should have known that going in since my parents are both lawyers.”
“They both are?” I ask, mildly surprised to know that.
“It did not make for a fun childhood.” He grins. “I couldn’t get away with any bad shit because they’d be right there spelling out the potential consequences to me. I was eighteen before I realized that the standard punishment for jaywalking isn’t six months in a prison upstate.”
I let out a squeal of laughter as I point an accusatory finger at him. “You didn’t think that until you were eighteen.”
“I let my parents think I believed it until then.” One of his shoulders lifts in a half-shrug. “I realized when I was twelve and pulled that stunt in front of a police car. I was hauled off the street by the collar of my shirt and given a warning. When I begged the cop not to send me to prison, she laughed and told me I wouldn’t have to serve a day.”
I stare at him, trying to imagine what he was like as a kid. I don’t know him well, but something tells me that he’s always been the type of person to smile at a stranger.
“What’s on your mind, Opal?”
He is.
I have a million questions perched on the tip of my tongue, and they’re all related to him, including whether he’s seeing anyone.
A soft knock at the door spares me from asking him any personal questions. It’s probably for the best because we’ve crossed paths a few times now, and he hasn’t asked if I’m single. That speaks volumes to me.
“Hold on a second,” I say, placing my cup on the table next to the game before I walk back to the door.
Before I even open it, I spot Chuck through the door’s window with another delivery of board games. This bundle is courtesy of a collector based in California. I reached out to him after seeing a posting he made on a board game forum asking if anyone wanted a part of his collection that he was ready to let go of.
Every game in the box Chuck is currently holding was manufactured before I was born. I only recognized two of the games, but I’m guessing my future patrons will be excited to try them out once they’re on the shelves.
I dig in the front pocket of my jeans and slide out the five dollar bill I tucked in there earlier in anticipation of this delivery.
Chuck’s smile greets me as soon as I open the door. “Hi, Opal. Hey, William!”
I don’t have to glance over my shoulder to know William is right behind me. I can smell the scent of his cologne.
“Hi, Chuck,” I say. “You can put that on one of the tables.”
“I can take it,” William offers.
I’m not surprised to see a few bills in his hand. Chuck notices it, too, because his gaze sticks to that. Since I can’t compete with that, I discreetly slide my five dollars back into my pocket.
The box and money are exchanged, and before Chuck takes off, he clears his throat. “I was wondering if we could talk privately for a second, William. Maybe out by my truck?”
Intrigued, my gaze volleys between the two men, but neither gives anything away.
“Sure thing.” William nods. “Let me get this box situated for Opal, and I’ll be right out.”
16
William
I approach Chuck, who is standing near the large sliding door of his truck. He’s a few inches shorter than me, but I’d never challenge this guy to an arm wrestle. I give my arms some love at the gym each week, but Chuck has impressive muscle definition. I don’t know if it’s from carrying packages in and out of his truck all day, but whatever he’s doing, it’s working.