Chapter 8
And, if she were lucky, there would be no further e-mails from Charlene waiting for her when she got home.
Her standard work uniform was a pair of dark jeans and a denim-colored chambray shirt with her company logo embroidered on the left breast pocket. Her shoulder-length blonde hair fell in all one length; she caught it up in a sloppy ponytail and held it back with a scrunchy she kept on her wrist for those occasions when she wanted it out of her face. She didn’t carry a purse; instead, her wallet went in one back pocket, her cell phone in the other. Her front pockets held Chapstick and her keys, but she only tucked her car key in—the others dangled noisily as she walked.
A pair of heavy-duty Timberland boots completed her look. They were rugged, comfortable shoes, waterproof, the tan leather worn to an almost suede-like texture because she’d had them so long. When she had to work on a job site, there was no better way to protect her feet. And when they got muddy, she simply hosed them off at the end of the day. She used to joke she’d rather wear boots than heels, and Charlene teased her about wearing them to her wedding one day. “They’ll say the bride wore Tims,” she’d said.
“One of the brides wore Tims,” Edie corrected at the time.
Now as she laced up her shoes, she thought, Not ever going to happen. I’m not the marrying type.
To get married, she had to be in a relationship first, and after the shit she went through with Charlene—shit she was still going through, until her ex sobered up long enough to move on—well, let’s say she wasn’t ready to get back into the dating game just yet. Work kept her busy enough; she didn’t need to juggle a girlfriend at the moment, too.
Once she was ready to go, Edie locked the door behind her and headed to her shiny, garnet-red Ford F-150 pickup truck. From its high-riding cab, she felt like a pilot guiding a plane down a runway. She double-checked her portfolio to make sure she had all the documents she needed for the McConnell job, including a copy of her own contract which she’d get the homeowner to sign before any work began on the property, then she adjusted her mirrors, threw a quick glance in the rearview mirror at herself, and pulled out of her driveway.
It was still early, not quite eight o’clock, but she didn’t feel rushed or frazzled or worn down already, the way she had when she worked for someone else. She was on her own boss, and she liked to get her work done early. The McConnells had little kids, she knew, so most likely they were up already themselves, getting the kids ready for school. If everything went as planned, all the papers signed, the first draw down from the loan authorized, Edie expected they might could get started on the renovations as early as the following Monday. With luck, they could have the work completed before the missus even went into labor.
* * * *
The McConnell house wasn’t too far from where Edie lived, which was unusual. Her work took her all over Richmond and its surrounding counties, and it wasn’t unheard of to drive an hour or more to reach some of the more remote locations. At least she didn’t have to get on the interstate and fight the morning commute. The only traffic she had to contend with were Henrico County school buses as they stopped every other block to pick up children. As she waited for a handful of little tykes to climb onboard, she muttered to herself, “They never stopped this much when I was going to school.”
Back in my day,she thought with a grin. When had she gotten old? It must have crept up on her, because her college days seemed like a few years ago, no more. But she remembered seeing an e-mail not too long ago about a high school reunion—it’d been one of the messages that made its way into her trash folder. Quickly she did the math. Had it really been twenty years?
And did it really matter? She felt better than she had in a long time, mentally as well as physically. She had her own business, she had a small savings, she had plans to maybe vacation on the shore somewhere in the next few months. What more could she possibly want?
Someone to share it with,the voice in her mind whispered. Someone to love.
Edie shook that thought away. Romance wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, and she knew thatfirst hand.