Life Reconstructed: Chapter Nine

Hunched over her computer screen the next afternoon, Cat’s attention was rudely roused by the sudden, loud ringing of her phone. Frowning, she turned toward the clunky piece of office equipment. She was almost tempted to let it go to voicemail. She had just a few more pieces to review before signing off on the application form before her.

But at the last moment, she felt her hand inch forward, taking the handset off the cradle. “Fireside Credit Union,” she droned, the words slipping almost thoughtlessly out of her mouth. How many phone calls had she started with those very words?

So many that she didn’t bother to switch her attention from the document on her computer screen, her eyes glancing left and right, down to the next line, then left again. “This is Catherine Cryer speaking.”

“Ms. Cryer?”

At the words, Cat started. With a fluster, she dropped her fingers from the keyboard on her desk. Her back straightened just slightly. The voice on the other end of the receiver was masculine. Deep. And it did something funny to her stomach, just hearing it.

She hadn’t actually spoken that many words to the man, but Cat was left in no confusion as to who was on the other end of the line.

“Yes. Hello, Matthew.” Matthew McBoy. Cat was satisfied with the dignified control in her voice. The fact that her fingers shook just the tiniest bit on the top of her desk, she chalked up to surprise.

She hadn’t expected to hear from.

Well, not so soon.

She frowned. Her conversation with him yesterday floated across her consciousness:

            “I’ll price them out and get back to you back tomorrow. Okay?”

Well, whatever.

“I hope I’m not interrupting—?” He paused, just the slightest bit, waiting for her contradict him.

She didn’t disappoint. “No, of course not,” Cat assured him. And, just for effect, she minimized the document glaring out at her across the bluish-white light of her computer. Of course Matt couldn’t see this action, but still… “What can I do for you?”

The moment the question came out of her mouth, Cat knew herself for a fool. She’d tried too hard, in that moment, to appear cool and collected. And, ironically, she’d only come out conspicuously pretentious.

She knew why he was calling.

“Uh…you asked me to cost out the price of a new door?”

“Right. Of course.” Cat laughed, groping wildly for an excuse, something to cover her blunder. “Excuse me. It’s been one of those mornings. Ten o’clock and it’s already been an interminably-long day. I’m afraid I’ve got zombie brain.”

There. She was actually pretty impressed with the sincerity present in that lie.

Matt laughed quietly.

Her stomach clenched. Tightened. Spasmed at the low rumble of sound.

“I thought zombies ate brains?”

“And now you’ve fully grasped how dire the situation is,” Cat mumbled.

Matt chuckled again.

Cat grinned. But, sensing the end of this topic of conversation, she plunged forward. “Now, what have you got for me?”

“All right…”

 

 

 

At five fifteen that afternoon, Cat cringed at the loud door buzzer as she crossed over the slightly greasy threshold of Main Time Liquor Store. A thin, stained carpet of what she supposed had once been light blue stared up at Cat as she veered to the right of the doors. She walked with purpose, but it was only a defense. She had almost no idea what she was doing here.

Well, that wasn’t quite true.

She knew why she was there.

To get beer.

Walking up to the wall of glass display cases—marched one after another and housing every type of beer, from domestics to imports and even a few micro-breweries, she frowned, her fingers pointing as she considered the selection before her. When she’d reached the end of the line, she started back at the beginning, running her eyes of the selections again.

The only problem was, she had no idea what kind of beer she should get…

“Trouble making up your mind?”

At the question, Cat’s head picked up. Turning at the sound of the voice, she felt her eyes widen just the tiniest bit. Standing across from her, her arms loaded down with assorted bottles of wine, was Amelia Kelley.

“Amelia, how are you?”

Cat was treated with one of the largest smiles she’d ever seen. Amelia’s brightly painted lips spread so wide apart that Cat wondered if it didn’t hurt a little.

“I’m great.” A dimple appeared on Amelia’s left cheeks. “Thanks in a large part to you.”

“Oh, no, I didn’t do all that much…”

Amelia shook her head. “Without you, my dreams would still be paper fantasies. You made them a reality. Thank you. Again.”

Cat felt her face heating up. “I only approve of what I believe in. You created that.”

“I got the keys to my studio today,” Amelia said then, the words slipping out with an airy sort of quality. It was as if she were testing the weight and feel of them as they exited her mouth. She gestured toward the copious amount of alcohol in her arms. “That’s actually why I’m here today.”

Cat grinned, tilting her head a little to one side. “Because you decided to become a winery, after all?”

Amelia laughed. “Just for tonight.”

Cat grinned, eyeing up the mass quantity of wine. “That’s a lot of celebrating.”

Amelia grinned. “Especially for one person. But I’m up to the challenge.”

Cat nodded uncertainly. She wasn’t sure what to say to that—

Amelia, however, didn’t seem the least disturbed by her singular status. “I probably won’t drink it all tonight.”

“Probably not.”

“—But I couldn’t figure out what I wanted. So I just nabbed a bit of everything.”

“I can see that.”

Amelia nodded with her chin toward the beer cases. “How about you?”

“Me?”

“Looking for something in particular?”

Cat made a face. “I wish.”

“Huh?”

“No, I mean…” Cat felt her hands open expressively. “I’m not buying the beer for myself.”

“Oh?”

“I’m getting it for a friend. Well, no—he’s not really a friend.”

“No?”

“No.” Cat’s voice was firm. “He’s really more of an acquaintance. And not one who’s entirely pleased with even that slight arrangement.”

Amelia tried to bit back a smile. She failed.

“But he’s doing me this favor and I thought…”

“Bribery?”

Cat sighed. “Yeah.”

“But you don’t know what he drinks,” Amelia considered, her voice conversational.

“It was a stupid idea.”

“No way.” Amelia juggled the bottles in her arms. “What’s he like?”

“Quiet.”

“Okay.”

“He’s a man’s man, you know… a handyman.”

“Okay.”

“Sawdust, flannel shirts, and mumbled replies.”

Amelia considered for a moment. “Hops.”

“Hops?”

“Yeah. The more the better. Get an IPA—maybe a slam.”

“Are we still speaking English?”

“Not a beer fan?”

Cat grinned. “No. Wine and margaritas are pretty much my mainstays.”

“Perfect.”

Cat felt her eyebrows arch just a little bit.

“I’ve thought about it. It would be irresponsible to drink this all alone.” Amelia’s eyes traveled tellingly over the wine in her arms. “Want to join me?”

Cat blinked in surprise. What? “Me?”

“Who else? In fact, the more I think about it the more it makes sense. After all, without you—”

“Without me, another loan manager would have signed off on your application.”

Amelia wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Help a girl out. It’s depressing, getting drunk alone.”

Cat laughed as she was meant to. “Okay. Yeah. I’m in.” She’d never had any intention of saying no. It would have never occurred to her. She’d simply needed a moment to realize the invitation for what it was. Through a buzzing light-headedness, Cat felt smile stretch across her face to reveal that of Amelia. “Though, I still insist that you have nothing to thank me for.”

Amelia inclined her head vaguely. “Meet at my studio? In an hour? Will that give you enough time to drop off the beers to your kind-of guy friend?”

Cat nodded, resolutely ignoring the latter half of her question. “Sounds good.” She didn’t have to ask where Amelia’s studio was. She remembered from the loan application.

“Fab!” Amelia sang. “See you then!” With an ease of grace, she turned around then and headed for the cash register.

Turning back to the stacks of beers ahead of her, Cat knew the feeling fighting its way up her body. Anticipation.