“What she look like?” Charlie angles his head toward me, his gaze narrowed.
“Almost tall as me. Fancy looking. Dark hair. Young. She reminded me of Miss Candice.” Charlie’s fiancé is only a couple years older than me, but I like calling her that. I think she likes it too. We’re friends, me and Candice. She’s nice. Kind. She’s softened my boss up since they got together, and now they’re going to get married.
This Saturday, as a matter of fact. I’ll be there. They’re closing the tree lot early—on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I don’t know how she convinced Charlie to do it—and the wedding is happening here. Right beside the field of trees. I’m sure it’ll be awesome. And I can’t wait to watch, because I’ll be here as a guest.
“Well, shit, that was probably her friend, Amelia,” Charlie says, shaking his head. “I’ll ask Candice if she complained about you.”
I’m a little offended. “Why would she complain about me?”
“Because you ruined her jacket with sap. You’re right about the fancy denim jacket. That thing probably cost a couple hundred dollars. Maybe more,” Charlie says, like it’s no big deal. “Her family owns a jewelry store. They do very well for themselves.”
I’m sure he’s not wrong about the dollar amount, but damn. That’s a ridiculous amount of money for a denim jacket. “I told her how to get the sap out.”
“Always helpful, aren’t you, Jonesie?” Charlie laughs and tosses the last tree on the pile of them that lined the back of the truck. “Maybe you can go deliver her tree to the store. See if she’s still mad at ya.”
“Deliver her tree?” I frown.
“Her parents own Lee Fine Jewelers in downtown Carmel. That’s why she’s here. To pick out a tree for their store,” Charlie explains. “What do you say? You can even offer to buy her a new jacket.”
“But I don’t want to buy her a new one,” I mutter, making my boss laugh.
“Come on, I was kidding. But I do need you to deliver that tree,” Charlie tells me, all traces of laughter gone. “After that, you can go on home.”
“You want me to drive a company truck home?” I do that every so often, but it’s not something Charlie likes to make a habit of.
“Yeah, get out of here.” He waves a hand. “You’ve been on the clock since six.”
It’s past three now, and I never did take a lunch. In fact, I’m starving, and my growling stomach just proved it. “If you say so. I don’t mind sticking around if you need me.”
“It’s all good. We’ve got it from here,” Charlie says.
I gather up my belongings, including the lunch I packed and never ate, and make my way to the truck Charlie said he wants me to drive. There’s a single tree lying in the back of it, a giant, extra full one that’s actually pretty damn beautiful, and I admire it for a bit before I hop in the truck and start the engine.
Traffic’s shit as I make my way to downtown Carmel. I blame the upcoming holiday. Everyone’s out and about. Tourists are here in droves, as usual. I live in one of the most beautiful places in the world, according to my mother. She came here when she was young, right around my age, wanting to make a name for herself. Those were her words, and I’m not sure what she meant by that. Did she have plans on meeting and marrying a rich man so she could live in a fancy mansion on 17 Mile Drive, in a giant house right on the ocean?
That’s not what happened. She met an average dude and they got married, had kids and live a good life in Marina. They’re still together and as happy as they can be. I used to live with them too, up until about a year ago, when I got an apartment with a few buddies in Monterey. Most of my money goes to rent, but there’s nowhere else I’d rather live.
Not right now, at least.
When I finally turn onto Ocean Drive, traffic is backed up for miles. No wonder I don’t come around here too often. It’s overrun with tourists, there are a lot of overpriced shops, and it’s just not my scene. Though I do like the Carmel beach down at the bottom of the road. When I was in high school, my friends and I used to like coming over here and lighting bonfires at night. Drink beers we stole from our parents’ liquor stash and make moves on the cute girls who hung out with us.
That feels like a lifetime ago. Before I had responsibilities and rent and car insurance to pay for.
Sometimes, being an adult sucks balls.
When I’m finally able to turn onto the side street where Charlie told me to deliver the tree, I realize I’m thirty minutes late. I was supposed to be here at four.
Damn it. My next impression with this woman is getting blown all over the place.
I park where Charlie directed and climb out of the truck to go knock on the back door of the jewelry shop. No one answers. I knock again.
Again, no answer.
Craning my head one way, then the other, I decide to walk around the building and enter through the front door like a paying customer. Hope to hell a cop doesn’t ticket the truck while I do this. Parking is tight downtown, and they monitor the meters and parking spots rigorously. An expensive ticket would be yet another expense I definitely don’t need, though Charlie would probably take care of it for me.
The store is located down a narrow pebbled walkway between two buildings, white lights strung crisscrossed above my head, potted plants everywhere, along with comfortable looking wooden benches. I find Lee Fine Jewelers tucked away in the far left corner of the shopping court, and I push open the glass door, striding inside.
There’s a hushed quality to the store. Gentle piano music tinkles in the background, and there are customers inside, but they’re all talking in quiet tones, like we’re in a library. And they’re all dressed impeccably. The women have fancy handbags hanging from their shoulders or wrists, and the men all reek of money.
While I’m standing in the middle of this place in dusty jeans and a faded green sweatshirt with a hole in the front pocket. Glancing down at myself, I see there’s a bright spot of yellow mustard on my sweatshirt too. Must’ve been from the sandwich I inhaled on my way over here.
Great. I’m a real class act.
“Can I help you?”
I turn to find the very woman who ran into me earlier at the farm striding toward me, a concerned expression on her face. The closer she gets, the more fascinated I become. Her skin is smooth. Flawless. Reminds me of a painting. And her eyes are so dark, they appear almost black.
And I see those eyes shift. Widen a little bit. She recognizes me.
Hope she’s not disappointed in my sudden appearance.
“Hey.” I tip my head toward her with a polite smile. “Nice to see you again. I’m here to deliver your tree.”
She scowls. It’s still a good look for her. “You’re a half hour late.”
“Sorry about that,” I say easily. “Traffic.”
“You apologize a lot.”
I frown. “Excuse me?”
“I believe that’s the fourth time you’ve told me you’re sorry since you ran into me.” She crosses her arms.
I swipe my baseball cap off, quickly running a hand over my hair. Probably shouldn’t tell her that she’s the one who ran into me. “If it helps, I meant every single one of them.”