Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
I never see anyone come to the house to visit him, and he reminds me of my grandpa back in Seattle.
“Hello, Erin,” Jeannie, the manager of the deli, says when I walk in. “I have his favorite today. Beef with barley.”
“Oh, that’ll make his day.” I smile at the other woman as I pull out my credit card, but she shakes her head.
“It’s on me today. It’s Mr. Sherman’s birthday.”
My mouth drops. “It is? Well, shit, I didn’t know that.”
“Of course, you didn’t. How could you?”
“How do you know?”
Jeannie sighs, then shrugs. “I never forget a date, and my parents must have mentioned it at some point. Before he died, my dad and Mr. Sherman were friends.”
“Jeannie, does Roger have any family here? I never see anyone come to see him.”
“No.” Jeannie shakes her head as she adds an extra cookie to the bag. “Roger and Sue never had any kids, and Sue’s been gone, jeez, twenty years now, I guess.”
“That’s so sad. He’s a really nice guy.”
Jeannie looks over at me in surprise and then laughs.
“What? He is.”
“Well, he may be nice to you, but he’s always been kind of a grumpy old man. He’s your typical get off my lawn type of guy, you know?”
I shake my head. “No, I’ve never seen that side of him. That’s so funny. Hey, throw in a chocolate cupcake, and I’ll pay for it.”
“That’s sweet. I even have a candle you can have.”
“That’s awesome. Thank you. Well, I’d better hit up one of the shops for a gift for him on my way home. Thanks, Jeannie.”
“You’re welcome, honey. Go enjoy that weather.”
I nod and, with the hot soup and cookies in one hand, set off across the street to a shop that sells both women’s and men’s clothes, and find Roger a nice scarf. It’s blue and will be handsome on him.
With that finished, and content because they offered to gift wrap it for me, I hurry home and make Roger’s house my first stop, before going into my apartment.
“Hello?” I call out as I open the door. Roger told me a while ago that I didn’t have to knock, since I come over so often. “It’s just me.”
“Oh, hello, dear.”
He says it that way every day, as if it’s a surprise to see me, even though he sees me every day. His eyes light up when he sees the wrapped box in my hand.
“You didn’t tell me that it’s your birthday.” I set the bag of food on the table and hold the wrapped box out to him. “But thankfully, I have my ways of finding things out.”
“It’s just another day,” he begins, but I shake my head.
“No, sir, it’s your birthday. You’ve been incredibly kind to me since I moved here, and you’re one of my closest friends. I celebrate my friends on their birthdays.”
His eyebrows pull together as he stares down at the box, and then he looks up at me with soft brown eyes.
“Thank you,” is all he says.
“You’re welcome.”
“Now, since it is my birthday, I’d like you to stay for dinner. Jeannie always packs enough soup for two.”
“It’s your favorite today,” I inform him. I don’t personally love beef with barley, but for Roger, I’ll choke down a small bowl. “What did you do today?”
“I took my morning walk,” he says as I bustle about his kitchen, pouring our soup and getting us settled at the table. “They changed the sign again.”
“I saw it! I was so excited because I’m one of the new people they added.”
“Too many people moving into our town,” he grumbles as he sits at the table with me. “Now, you, I don’t mind, but we have too many move-ins trying to change our town. Make it bigger and what they think is better. If they want Bitterroot Valley to be like California, they should stay in California.”
“Maybe you should run for mayor. Or city council.”
Roger scoffs as he takes a bite of his soup. “Been there, done that. Many years ago. No one wants to listen to the opinions of an old man.”
“I do. Here, open your present.”
I notice the slight tremor in Roger’s hand as he tears the wrapping paper. I’ve noticed the tremors getting worse for a while now. When I first moved in, he didn’t have any shaking at all, and now his right hand is never still.
If he was my grandfather, I’d ask him if he’d been to the doctor, but he’s not my grandpa. And it’s none of my business.
“Now, what did you do here?”
“It’s just a scarf,” I say with a smile. “I thought you’d look handsome in it on your morning walks. Until summer, anyway.”
He immediately wraps it around his neck and smiles over at me like a kid at the best birthday party ever. “I love it. Thank you.”