Expecting him to laugh and brush off the silly idea that he’s done something to earn the status of town pariah, I’m surprised when he answers with, “It’s a long story. I’m sure you’ll hear it from someone around town eventually.”
I don’t know him well, but I do know one thing. Henry helped keep my Sarah entertained at the state fair while I was there to support my best friend Rocket, who was competing for the title of Butter Queen. If it weren’t for him making my toddler laugh and buying her fair food and briefly running off to win her a stuffed unicorn — all with my permission — that day would have ended early for us with a major toddler meltdown.
The only thing I regretted about that day was not getting his phone number in the midst of all the drama that unfolded that day. And Sarah did demonstrate that she’d had enough before the end of the pageant; when a toddler needs to leave the premises, she must leave immediately.
So imagine my delight at seeing Henry at the grocery store, albeit arguing with a grocery store manager about whether or not he had the right to post fliers. I’ve seen a lot of odd, cliquey behavior in my short time of residing in this town, so Henry is a sight for sore eyes.
I wince when I see he’s not kidding around about supposed rumors. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up something painful,” I say.
He shakes it off and changes the subject when he sees my job application in the cart, mingling with my small haul of groceries. “Looking for a job?”
I nod my head yes. “There’s not much for me to do here, and I’m hardly qualified to work retail but…” I start to explain, but he cuts me off with a surprise proposition.
“If you want a job at the pumpkin patch, it pays better. It’s seasonal but you can start tomorrow and…uhm…there’s always lots do to year round.”
The pink flush in his cheeks tells me the year-round part is a lie. And also, I doubt a locally-owned pumpkin patch and corn maze would pay better than the grocery store, but something tells me he just doesn’t want me working here. Like maybe he’d be sticking it to that pinched-face manager if I came to work for him instead of the supermarket.
Well, I’m not above showing a little pettiness. So far, I like Henry better than most people I’ve met here. Even if he does have a secret scandal I know nothing about.
I’m also desperate for a job; my savings are almost running out. A job that starts tomorrow is better than slogging through an application and interview process.
Henry’s kind face, honey-colored beard and flannel shirt that hugs his wide shoulders do not deter me from accepting the position under him, either, that’s for sure. As unethical as it might be to date one’s employer, that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy some eye candy while I’m …
“Wait,” I ask. “What will I be doing, exactly?”
He flashes a congenial, laid-back smile and describes all the duties involved. It sounds like a little bit more physical labor than what I was expecting, but I’m up for a challenge.
“I’ll do it,” I say. “I’d love to be under you. Work under you. I mean…yay, I have a job!” And now, I’m blushing harder than Henry.
He’s so happy I’ve accepted, and I’m so happy I have a job, that the two of us clunk our heads together as a result of a spontaneous, ill-advised attempt at a hug.
“Ow,” I say, laughing.
“Oof,” he says, reaching out to touch my head but then stopping short of it. “Are you OK?”
Sarah is laughing at both of us. “I’m fine, and you?”
He smiles down at me. “I’m perfect,” he says.
Henry hands me a flier with the address and phone number, and we agree on a time for me to start my duties in the morning. Sarah grabs the paper and immediately tries to bite it. “Sarah, no-no!” I say, gently retrieving the paper from between her chompers.
My new boss walks me and Sarah to my car, and then loads my groceries in the trunk for me. Then, he simply stands there, looking around, like he’s watching for other people.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” I say.
He nods. “Sure thing. I’m just going to …wait here until you’re safely in your car with the doors locked, if you don’t mind?”
I cock my head. “Is there a serial killer on the loose in this town, or what?”
He shakes his head and chuckles. “No. I just…well…I actually don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s silly, I guess.” He rubs the meat of his palm against his sternum, his face seeming confused at his own actions.
Moments later I’m strapping Sarah into her car seat, both she and I wearing dopey grins on our faces. “No, no,” Sarah says, wagging her finger at me, apropos of nothing.
I sigh heavily as I buckle myself in, lock the doors, start up my beater of a car, and wave goodbye to Henry. I watch him walk away with the gait of a chilled-out man who is in no hurry.
“I know, Sarah. I know. Dating my boss is a no-no,” I whimper.
