Falling into a Second Chance by Alie Garnett
Chapter Six
The plumbing was completely shot.It had gone unnoticed during the inspection and during the last week since Chris had moved into the big old house. The entire kitchen had been flooded this morning when he woke up, and he realized just how bad it was.
It had taken all morning to get the water cleaned up, and now he was without running water to the kitchen until he could figure out how to run new pipes or hire someone to do it. He was starting to think that hiring it out was the better choice when it came to plumbing.
After the water was cleaned up, he went back to scraping the paint off the wainscoting from the woodwork in the downstairs bathroom. Chris figured it would probably take the rest of his natural life.
He was taking a break on his porch when he saw her. She was sitting on her front step, reading her mail. The picture of the perfect mom waiting for her kids to come home. Her dark hair was in a style that framed her face and made her run her fingers through it regularly to keep it out of her eyes. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place where he knew her from. She was wearing blue jeans and a red shirt. As he watched her, he couldn’t stop himself from going to talk to her, to see who she was. Based on what he had seen of the neighborhood this last week, she was probably married with a ton of kids.
He was almost to her house when a kid who looked just like her had bounced down the sidewalk and gave her a hug. But he was already there, so he decided to introduce himself and be a good neighbor anyway. As he drew close enough, he saw her shirt said “Habby B=Dya,” and couldn’t figure out the meaning behind it.
She hadn’t been the friendliest of neighbors, and if it hadn’t been for the kid, she probably would have ignored him completely. Everything from her tone to her posture said he was bothering her. Well, he didn’t need her. He had a house to continue working on, and he didn’t need distractions from that.
Back across the street, he decided against working on the wainscoting and instead focused on watching a video on how to change out light fixtures. The ones that had been in the house for too many decades were atrocious and needed to be gone. Soon.
Settling himself on his porch step like his neighbor had, he scrolled through his phone looking for a good video. After watching six, he knew exactly what he was doing and decided to head to the store to buy what he would need.
Before he got up, Agatha from across the street walked out of her house with the little girl right next to her, carrying a brightly wrapped package.
He didn’t know why he was so drawn to her. There was just something about her that made him want to walk across the street to talk to her again. But based on her coldness toward him earlier, he decided to stay away.
It wasn’t like he was attracted to Agatha; he had never been attracted to women like her. The woman he had been seeing when he had blown out his knee was the type of woman he liked: tall, blonde, and beautiful. Tara had been a model and had been devoted to him. At least until his career had ended. Then she had left him.
He had been in the hospital when she left. She hadn’t even told him it was over; she just found someone else. It hadn’t even bothered him that she had left. From the beginning of their relationship, they had been different. He had been interested in his career, and she had been interested in what his career would do for her.
Looking back, he wished he hadn’t even dated her, except she was exactly the type of women he had always dated: self-centered and beautiful.
He had been drawn to women who wanted something from him, and for years, he had been happy to give it in exchange for others to envy him for who was on his arm. For a time, it had been worth it. Not so much anymore.
Watching Agatha and Violet walk down the street, he could tell the girl was talking as they went. Agatha was silently walking beside her, letting her chatter away.
Chris got into his truck and tried not to watch them in the mirror. He tried not to focus on Agatha’s hips swaying in her blue-jeans but failed.
