Just For A Moment by Kate Carley
Chapter 5
Grace tuggedanother pair of dress slacks from the hanger in her granddad’s closet. She checked the pockets quickly before folding and placing it in the large black trash bag she’d set on the bed. She’d already stuffed four of them with clothing from the dresser, and she wasn’t even halfway done yet. But this afternoon before she met with Beck, she wanted to stop over at the thrift store and make this donation.
While it was bittersweet to go through her granddad’s clothing, it was something that had to go. She couldn’t make use of any of it, and she reminded herself that someone else might find it a treasure.
She’d opted for this easy task today because her earlier attempts at real work had failed miserably. She was designing a website for Miller Orthodontics just east of Grand Rapids, and after making two mistakes—one nearly catastrophic—Grace decided she needed to get her head on straight. And stop thinking about her interaction with Beck yesterday as well as the one coming up in just a few hours.
Would he reach out, extending his hand, and wait for her to grab ahold again today? He’d done it a couple times, and the first time, she’d faltered. For a second, Grace had questioned whether she should touch his hand. She tried to focus on the three reasons she’d initially given: he was rude, what if living in Oak Bend didn’t work out, and… damn.
What was the third reason?
Because the idea of touching Aaron Beckett again seemed mighty inviting. Each time, the feeling of her hand in his had sent a jolt of heat and awareness through her system that she hadn’t experienced since before Jeremy.
Oh. Right. Reason number three: it hadn’t been that long since their breakup.
Now, after meeting the real, less rude Beck, that original list of reasons seemed mighty lame. And three brand new reasons—to touch him at every chance she got—had come to her in a blink: Grace was going to be interacting with him on a regular basis to complete her granddad’s project, he was nicer—more like the Beck that Madalyn had described—and the fire.
Good Lord, the fire!
Grace had reached for Beck’s outstretch hand like a pyromaniac reaching for a book of matches and a can of gasoline. And the resulting sensation did not disappoint. Just like the day before, the air between them had sizzled as she’d held onto his strong hand. Like she’d noted the first time, his fingertips were callused. How would it feel to have them tracing an outline around her belly button? Or what about her nipples?
Grace let out a loud sigh and realized she was holding a pair of folded trousers against her chest and staring off into the half-empty closet. This was why she was on closet clean-out duty and not creating a trendy new website for Dr. Miller at the moment.
An hour later, Grace hefted the last overfilled trash bag down the staircase and into the formal living room off the entryway. Unceremoniously, she dropped the bag of clothing donations onto the growing pile of other bags.
Taking a step back, she admired her work. It was quite the accomplishment. Of course, there was one additional chest of drawers in that room and closets in all the other bedrooms that she hadn’t peeked into yet, but the clothing portion of the master bedroom closet was done. She still had to go through the shoes stacked three layers high all along the length of the closet—who would’ve guessed he’d owned that many pairs?—and the miscellaneous boxes on the top shelf. She anticipated those boxes were filled with keepsakes that would require effort to sift through. Not something she planned to tackle anytime soon.
As she stepped into the kitchen to grab a light lunch, her cell phone chimed with a text. She pulled it from the back pocket of her jeans. Her mom.
Mom: How’s it going?
Grace: Fine. I just packed up the hanging clothes in his closet for donation.
Grace smiled as she hit send, still basking in the satisfaction of hours well-spent.
Mom: I thought you were going to send me pictures in case I wanted something.
Grace stared at her phone. Really? She wanted pictures of his clothes? She breathed out a sigh and came up with three reasons—the same three she used anytime she dealt with her mother. She should be respectful. It was her mother, and she loved her mother even though the woman made her crazy. And Grace had far too much class to be rude.
Grace: I’m not going to send you a picture of each item
Mom: Grace. Please?
Grace: You know how much is here. I don’t have time.
Mom: Just set aside a few items you think I’d like.
Grace: I will.
Grace pulled a bag of lettuce from the refrigerator and began chopping some veggies to add on top when another text came through.
Mom: Thanks. Then get rid of everything else and put the house on the market. I want you back here where you belong.
Setting down the knife, Grace sighed again. This conversation had to happen eventually. The reality was going to need to be shared with her mother. Grace typed the text and reread it to make sure she’d been as gentle as possible.
Grace: I’ve always loved Granddad’s house, so I’m thinking about staying.
She hit send, and the phone rang a second later. Something Grace should’ve guessed would happen.
“You’re thinking about staying?” No greeting just an angry question
“Yeah. I mean, I just got here, and I don’t know what I’ll find. But Granddad gave me his house. It’s old and beautiful. It’s packed to the rim with stuff. If I’m going to move my own things here, well... I’ve got to clear his things out.”
“The people in that small town won’t welcome you back. They haven’t forgotten. And every time you turn around, someone or something is going to remind you of Caroline.”
“I haven’t forgotten her, Mom. If that’s what you think.”
“I know. But mark my words, you’re going to hate that place.”
“But it’s my decision.”
There was a long pause, and Grace couldn’t be sure, but it sounded as if her mom sniffled. Tears and crying were not her mother. Strength amid uncertainty and pain and anything else life tossed her direction? Yeah, that was her mom.
“Yes, it’s your decision. But...”
“Mom, I’ve got this. If things don’t go well, I’ll put the house on the market.”