Romeo Fails (12 page)

“Did you return the red paint?” she asked Maggie curiously.

“No, I’m sure I’ll use it for something eventually,” Maggie said. She was an avid arts-and-crafter. “Now, what are you up to this afternoon? Do you want to go shopping with us in Grover? We’re going to the new mall over there.”

Shopping had never interested Dorsey, much to Maggie’s dismay, who considered it a higher calling. She never gave up hope, though, that her friend might magically transform into a fashionista one day.

“No, thanks, Mags, I’m going swimming.”

“Oh, sure, be healthy,” Maggie said, kidding. She sighed. “I know I should exercise more like you two do.”

“You look fine, Maggie.”

Dorsey had been expecting Sarah to say the words but, surprisingly, they came from Goodman. All three of the women turned to look up at him as he made this unexpected contribution to the conversation. Maggie blushed becomingly.

Goodman had flushed a little himself, but stuck to his guns. “Well, I mean it,” he said somewhat defensively. “I think a woman looks good with a little flesh on her bones…I mean, uh…er…” Goodman suddenly seemed to recall an urgent task awaiting him down aisle two (Electrical/Lighting) and walked off without another word.

Maggie looked shocked, but pleased. Sarah, laughing, squeezed her arm and said, “I think someone’s got an admirer, Mags.”

Dorsey thought her older brother must be losing his mind—first, the free sandpaper, now this. She looked over at Shaw behind the register to see what his reaction was, if any. He was on his feet, looking out toward Main through the window. Dorsey turned to see what had caught his eye. Dr. Melba Porter was out there, examining the contents of their display window like an anthropologist studying the relics of a lost tribe of the Amazon. Feeling Dorsey’s gaze on her, she looked up, saw the three of them standing there and seemed to make up her mind to come in.

Dorsey had met the woman, of course, but hadn’t really gotten to know her in the six months or so since she’d come to town. She got what little medical care she needed in Grover because the previous town doctor in Romeo Falls had been a homophobic old asshole who kept trying to cure her of her gayness via pamphlets and various Dire Warnings. Shaw too, got his allergy shots in Grover since the same irascible practitioner had refused to see him anymore after Shaw broke up with his granddaughter in high school.

Dr. Melba was sort of attractive, in a sturdy, intense, humorless kind of way. In her early thirties, she was dark-haired, robust and serious in both her demeanor and attire. Dorsey had seen her ‘power-walking’ along the side of the highway in all kinds of weather, another big-city predilection that only emphasized her outsider status to the natives. Her inability to make small talk (or dislike of its inefficiency) was not winning over her new neighbors, but since she was the only doctor in town, her practice had a more or less captive audience. Dorsey suspected she might just be shy, an unforgivable sin in Romeo Falls. Maggie, who was her patient and who could always be counted on to see the good in people, said she seemed very smart. Dorsey had not always found that to be a given with doctors, but took Maggie’s word for it. Perhaps, she thought, Dr. Melba was one of those people who are so smart that they’re tongue-tied with all the information crowding their brains, forever finding themselves three or four steps ahead of the rest of us and doomed to eternally wait for those who will never catch up.

The bell did its thing as she came in. The good doctor headed straight for Maggie. “How’s your mother, Mary Margaret?” she said peremptorily.

“She’s fine, Doctor. Resting at home. Thank you again for all your help last night,” Maggie told her.

Having settled that, the doctor nodded brusquely and then turned to Dorsey. “How much for the rocking chair?” she asked.

“Oh, um, gosh—I don’t know,” Dorsey said, completely surprised. She had sold so little of the furniture she had given up expecting anyone to take an interest. She didn’t even bother to put price tags on her pieces. Goodman was really just indulging her by letting her put a few things in the window. Besides, he had to stack the smoke detectors on something.

“It’s for sale, isn’t it?” Melba persisted.

“Well, yeah—” Dorsey started, but the doctor interrupted when her answer was too slow in coming.

“What’s the price then?” she said, somewhere on the scale between eager and impatient. “You made it, right?”

“Yeah, but it’s just a hobby,” Dorsey tried to explain.

“Just a hobby?” Dr. Melba was fired up. “Are you kidding me? People in Chicago would go crazy for this stuff. I’ve got a friend who runs a design store there. This is exactly the kind of unique piece she’s always looking for. Do you mind if I send her a picture?” Melba was already whipping out her cell phone.

“Well, okay, sure,” Dorsey said, a bit taken aback by the speed at which the doctor was moving. Melba was aiming her phone and taking shots of both the rocker and the dresser. Dorsey looked over at Maggie blankly. Her best friend was beaming, clearly thrilled by this recognition of Dorsey’s talent which she’d always loyally supported.

Sarah said inquiringly, “Haven’t you sold your stuff before? I mean, it’s wonderful—I would think people would be flocking to buy it.”

Dorsey snorted. “Not in this town.”

“Why not?” Sarah asked.

Dorsey gave her a look that spoke volumes, but just a one-word answer. “Cooties.”

“Oh, come on!” Maggie protested, always ready to defend her beloved hometown.

Over the years, she had seen how the town treated Dorsey with her own eyes, of course, but Maggie always found some excuse, some reason to explain away what Dorsey knew to be homophobia, pure and simple. It was important to Mags to see the good in people—even when it wasn’t always there, Dorsey thought. She loved Maggie with all her heart and cherished their friendship, but that didn’t stop her from sometimes wanting to rip off those rose-colored spectacles her friend was so fond of.

“Remember?” Maggie was saying to her. “You sold that beautiful armoire to the Sizzle Sisters last fall, right?”

“That’s true,” Dorsey admitted. “And a rolltop desk to a couple in a Winnebago passing through from Wichita. And I’ve given Maggie a few pieces over the years.”

“She won’t let me buy any,” Maggie pouted to Sarah.

“And that’s it,” Dorsey said, ignoring Maggie. “It’s not to everyone’s taste, I guess. Especially around here.”

“Well, I like it,” said Sarah firmly. “A lot.”

“So do I,” pronounced the doctor, having finished her photo shoot. Her phone buzzed at her. She checked the screen. “And so does my friend in Chicago! She wants me to get your business card for her.”

Dorsey laughed. “I don’t have a business card, but you’re welcome to give her the hardware store’s number if you like.”

“Don’t laugh,” Melba admonished, brandishing her phone emphatically. “If she likes your stuff enough to buy it, this could be very lucrative for you.”

Dorsey shook her head wonderingly, not believing a word of it. Still, it was nice to hear. Maggie looked like she was about to bust her buttons, like she’d invented Dorsey herself. Even Shaw was sidling over, curious as to what all the commotion was about.

Sarah said, “Cool phone, Dr. Porter—is that the new one?”

The two of them compared technologies for a moment.

Dr. Melba said, “I was worried about the service when I first moved here, but the signal’s very strong here in town. Now if we could just get Wi-Fi!”

The two urbanites laughed a little about that. “And a decent cup of coffee,” Dr. Melba added.

“We’ve got some nice coffee machines in stock, Doctor, if you’re in the market for one of those,” Dorsey said.

“It might come to that,” Dr. Melba replied, “but when it comes to fancy coffee, it’s so nice to have someone else make it for you. You know, somewhere where I could sit down with my laptop, do a little work, check my e-mail and sip my coffee. That’s one thing I miss about Chicago.”

They all thought about that for a moment, Sarah nodding in agreement and Maggie apparently in fierce concentration.

“You know,” Mags said slowly, “it wouldn’t be hard at all to set up Wi-Fi in here.”

“In here? In the hardware store?” Dorsey asked her, in astonishment. “What on earth for?”

“To bring in more customers, of course,” Maggie said with a smile. “I am an MBA, remember?”

“But how would that work?”

“Well, you’ve got this empty space here. You could set up some chairs and tables—I know you’ve got plenty of those, Dorsey,” Maggie said wryly. “If you had a Wi-Fi hub, people could bring in their laptops and take advantage of that. And once you’ve got them in the store, you’ve got a chance to make a sale, right?”

“Well, yeah, I guess,” Dorsey said, still skeptical. “But aside from Dr. Porter here and some of the other tech-savvy young adults, wouldn’t that draw in mostly teenagers?”

“Teenagers with disposable cash,” Maggie said persuasively. “And it won’t be long before the rest of Romeo Falls joins the twenty-first century and has their smart phones and tablets, as well. Trust me—I see it happening with the next generation already. You and Goodman could really get a jump on things if y’all were the first to offer Wi-Fi in town.”

“I don’t know, Mags,” Dorsey said dubiously. “I don’t think Good will want to deal with a bunch of unruly teenagers. I mean, who’s going to keep them in line?”

“Well, I could,” Maggie said. “I mean, obviously, I’m a high school teacher, so I could. But my point is, it’s a learnable skill, like anything else. Like lion-taming, as we say in the teacher’s lounge!”

They all chuckled at that image.

“And if you could sell some good coffee too,” Dr. Melba said plaintively.

“Whoa!” Dorsey laughed. “We’re getting kind of far afield from hardware here. First Wi-Fi and now mocha lattes!”

“Well, think about it,” Maggie said. She was in her persuasive MBA mode again, her brain clearly calculating all the potential profit to be made. “You could make the coffee free at first to draw them in, then you charge a reasonable price per cup after that. You could use one of the machines you already have in stock. And you could give them a card entitling them to free Wi-Fi for a year if they make a big-ticket purchase—like a single item over three hundred dollars, or five hundred or whatever. That way, the teenagers pester their parents into buying that big-ticket item here, instead of in Grover. You know, most people hate making that drive into GC anyway, especially when it’s raining or snowing. Give them an excuse to buy here and they might just do it.” Maggie looked dreamy-eyed with possibility.

Sarah chimed in, “That sounds pretty brilliant to me, Mags. If I lived here, I’d be wanting my Wi-Fi card and coffee.”

“Me too,” said Dr. Melba firmly. “Sign me up.”

They all turned and looked at Dorsey expectantly, who held up her hands in surrender. “Sounds brilliant to me too, Mags, but I just work here, you know. You should run it past Good, though. You can explain it a lot better than I can.”

Maggie smiled with satisfaction. “I might just do that.”

Dr. Melba said to Dorsey, “Now about that rocking chair—is it an antique, by the way?”

“I guess you could call it that.”

She didn’t want to tell her she’d rescued it from the county dump. They settled on a price that seemed to please Dr. Melba. It certainly pleased Dorsey—it would buy her groceries for the next month.

“I’m on foot here,” the doctor told her. “Can your staff deliver this to my home?”

The “staff,” in the form of Shaw, cheerfully assured her he could. Since her house was only about a quarter of a mile away, just a block off the town square, Shaw left with her a few minutes later, toting the chair upside down on his head. They seemed to be chatting easily as they walked off down Main, although heaven only knew about what.

“Well,” Maggie exclaimed with satisfaction. “Wasn’t that just
great
!” She smiled happily at all of them—Dorsey, Sarah and Good, who had resurfaced to man the register in Shaw’s absence—impartially. They all smiled back. Maggie’s enthusiasm was always infectious. She reached down into the display window to pick up George, who actually started purring as she cuddled him.

“Unbelievable,” Sarah said into Dorsey’s ear. She turned her head to find the city girl mere inches away. They exchanged a long look as Maggie took George over to his owner, saying “Gosh almighty, Goodman, what are you feeding this creature? I think he’s gained more weight this year than I have.” Having Sarah so close to her was both exciting and uncomfortable at the same time. She thought it prudent to put some distance between the two of them, walking as casually as she could over to the counter where she set her backpack down and fiddled with it, so she wouldn’t have to make eye contact with any of them.

“Ready to go, Sarah?” Maggie said.

“Oh, um, actually, is it okay if I use the restroom?”

Good hated it when Dorsey let customers use the tiny employee bathroom, except (maybe) for Maggie who got the “best friend” pass. But his uncharacteristic behavior was still in effect, apparently.

“Of course,” he told Sarah graciously. “Dorsey, do you want to show her where it is?”

So Sarah followed Dorsey behind the counter, through the doorway and down the hall toward the little restroom. Behind them, they heard Maggie telling Goodman about her Wi-Fi idea.

“It’s right here,” Dorsey said to Sarah, indicating the open door of the restroom.

“What’s this? The office?” Sarah said, stopping short at another opening. She peered in with interest.

“Yeah, that’s the office,” Dorsey said, walking back to her side. Whereupon Sarah grabbed her hand, pulled her into the office and pressed her up against the wall for a long, intense, no-holds-barred kiss.

All of Dorsey’s good intentions melted away. It felt so good—so right—kissing Sarah. There was a couch in the small office, covered as always with piles of paperwork. Somehow she found herself on that couch, underneath Sarah, papers slithering and crackling underneath, urgent lips locked together and her hands on Sarah’s back underneath her shirt.